From Samohonka to
By Volodymyr Kish
This past weekend I attended the wedding
of the daughter of a good friend of mine, Les Salnick, who also happens to be
the Chairman of the Board of this newspaper.
I would not be exaggerating in stating that this was one of the
snazziest and most enjoyable weddings I have ever been to. Les clearly spared no expense and effort in
making this a truly special day for his clearly beloved one and only daughter,
Leanne.
The reception at the UNF
Toronto Trident Hall was a culinary and sensory delight. From the moment we entered, we were subjected
to a continuous stream of appetizers that covered the broad spectrum from sushi
to barbecued shrimp to wild mushroom pure to rack of lamb. Fine wine and
premium spirits were flowing freely. The first toast was executed with everyone
partaking of Mot & Chandon, one of
As I enjoyed the splendour
of it all, I was reminded of what my late father once said when he experienced
a similar though somewhat more modest celebration late in his life at the
wedding of one of his oldest friend’s daughters – “Dorobylysia” he
stated simply, which roughly translated means “they earned it through their own
hard labour”.
My friend Les is one of the
more successful entrepreneurs and businessmen that I know in the Ukrainian community. Through hard work and effort he has become
fairly well-to-do to the point that he can indulge a little bit in making his
daughter’s wedding day a memorable one. However, like me, the son of poor
Ukrainian immigrants, he has certainly seen and experienced a different and
much more frugal form of life.
Our immigrant forefathers to
Despite their humble state
and lack of education, however, virtually all those immigrants were determined
that their children and grandchildren would never have to live and sacrifice
like they did. They spared no sweat or
toil to ensure that their kids got educated and found good jobs. Their whole purpose for immigrating had been
to build a real and prosperous future for their children and grandchildren, one
which they knew they would probably not see or enjoy in their own lifetimes.
Our kids, now second or
third generation-born Canadians, lead privileged lives. They are well-educated and have been provided
with all the same opportunities and material comforts that their non-Ukrainian
peers have. They have not had to
experience the discrimination and sometimes outright persecution that our
“bohunk” parents and grandparents did. A
wide world of possibilities awaits them.
And that is good. That is what
several generations of Ukrainians in
As Ukrainians in