Making a Difference: My First Forty Years as an Immigrant

By John E. Milnes

Blessed is the man who can love all men equally.
St. Maximus the Confessor

In a colorful description of his experiences over the forty years he has lived in Canada after emigrating from his native England, John Milnes takes us on a journey through the many challenges he has faced. Over the decades, he has worked to make his community safer and better prepared. He served as a teacher, a farmer, a motocross promoter and referee, an equestrian show judge in Ontario and northern New York State, a political organizer, and as an occasional columnist for the local newspaper. After retiring from teaching, John got involved in environmental activities on a full-time basis; in acknowledgment of his rich experience, perspective, and skills, he was recruited as a top consultant for an international company.

John has always sought to make a difference in the lives of those with whom he has come in contact. Always aware of social needs in his home community and his travels throughout North America, he lives his life improving the lives of those around him in every possible way.

This is his story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462013104

John E. Milnes

John Milnes worked his way up through the British educational system and graduated from the Leicester University College of Education. He immigrated to Canada in 1970 and taught special-needs students until his retirement in 1989. He lives in Long Sault, Ontario, Canada, with his wife, Jan.

Book preview

We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.

Sir Winston Churchill

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

FOREWORD

Introduction:

{1}

{11}

{111}

{1V}

{V}

{V1}

{V11}

{V111}

{1X}

{X}

{X1}

{X11}

{X111}

{X1V}

{XV}

{XV1}

{XV11}

{XV111}

{X1X}

{XX}

{XX1}

{XX11}

{XX111}

{XX1V}

{XXV}

{XXV1}

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Blessed is the man who can love all men equally.

St Maximus The Confessor

My deepest appreciation goes to my wife, Jan, for she has laboured on this book almost as many hours as I have. She has been my personal editor; she has prompted me whenever I took a wrong turn; she has encouraged me and actually been my memory in so many instances. Thanks, Jan, you have been wonderful.

I also wish to acknowledge Jim Brownell, an ex-colleague and now a Member in the Ontario Legislature. His example of dedication to the public need has been an inspiration for my own behaviours.

My thanks also go to the staff of iUniverse and especially to Stephen Weathers and Shyne Kilat. When, because of production glitches, I was ready to give up on the book Stephen’s managerial skills brought everything back into order. Shyne, as my Publishing Services Associate, then worked fast and diligently to finally get my manuscript to the publishing stage.

FOREWORD

With a long interest in history and heritage, and with an understanding of the need to record the life and times of those who have made a difference in the community, it was with much interest that I heard the news that my friend, John, had put his pen to paper and fingers to the keyboard to write this book.

When John asked me to write the foreword to his book, Making A Difference, I asked him about the subject. I had not known that he had decided to write his Canadian life story, so I had no idea that it would be a book about his life and his contribution through public service. He mentioned to me that it was really a part of that dash, that time between a birth date and death date, so often shown on one’s memorial gravestone. It certainly did not take me long to agree to write this foreword and to support John.

As the past-president of three local historical societies in Stormont, Dundas, and Glengarry, I have often encouraged members of these societies to write about the life and times in which they have lived. With Making A Difference John has done exactly what I have encouraged so many to do.

When I received the transcript of Making A Difference and began to read his words, I could not close the pages. I had to read. Although I thought I had known about John’s life and his contribution to his community, I do know that my knowledge of this community activist became more clear as I read his colourful anecdotes and the details of his story.

In life John has been a champion. He has been a champion for children through his long and distinguished teaching career. He has been a champion for the environment, through his countless hours of volunteerism for the St. Lawrence River Remedial Action Plan, the Public Advisory Committee and his creation of an Institute for River Sciences. John has been a champion for his neighbours and friends, through the many good deeds that he has done for them.

Reading this book is like reaching into John’s heart and discovering what makes this community activist tick. Be prepared to make a dash through John’s busy and rewarding life, whether his many trips through North America, whether the rolling up of his sleeves to labour on many home construction projects, or his advocacy and support for his colleagues in education or in environmental projects.

In his community, whether at his beautiful country home at Gartree Park in Cornwall Township or at his homes in Mexico and California, John has made a difference. Clearly, Making A Difference is part of the life story and the ups and downs of someone who has made a difference.

As you read through Making A Difference, you will understand that a special someone has always stood by John’s side, whether it be to encourage through words or through determination and work ethic. John’s dear wife, Jan, has stood by his side and John is most generous in his words of the tremendous support he has received from his loving wife. Reading Making A Difference is like reading about Jan’s life story, too.

As the Member of Provincial Parliament for the Riding of Stormont-Dundas-South Glengarry, it has been my pleasure to encourage, support, and honour citizens who have made a difference. My friend, John Milnes, is certainly one of those citizens. Through many years, John and I have shared stories, shared careers, and shared a passion for helping people. It has been my pleasure to support and encourage John, through these words in the foreword to his book. I sincerely hope that you will get as much enjoyment from reading Making A Difference, as I have.

In closing, I wish John and Jan the best in good health and happiness as they enjoy life in retirement. You have Made A Difference!

Jim Brownell,

Member of the Ontario Provincial Parliament.

Introduction:

Hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness which the world affords.

Samuel Johnson

In my early days as a teacher, in England, I actually taught in the same classroom in which the famous Samuel Johnson taught. He was a mentor then and continues to be a mentor today. Samuel Johnson is, perhaps, one of the most quoted personages and every time I read one of his quotes I feel invigorated by the strength of his personality.

In his novel ‘Faith’ British mystery writer, Peter James, has one of his characters studying a gravestone and the date written on it [i.e. 1926-1998]. He says to his companion, You know what fascinates me? It’s the dash. That little mark between the dates. I look down at someone’s grave and I think. That dash represents a human being’s entire life. It’s not important when someone was born or when they died, what matters is what they did in between with their lives.

This book I have written represents a part of that dash in my life. It also reflects my philosophy that we are born to be a part of an entire society. In that respect we do have an immense responsibility to show we are an integral part of the whole. Only if we participate in the society we have chosen as our mainstay can we believe we have lived a full life.

At no time does one begin life knowingly dedicating themselves to making a difference. It is when we look over our shoulders and see where we have been that a spotlight is cast over the deeds in which we have participated and actually highlights those deeds. In the shadows will be the many things we might have done but no earthly being can throw down that gauntlet to penetrate on the negative side of our lives.

I gained my education from an open British society that took great care to ensure my intellectual abilities were honed to the maximum. It is from this perspective that I have been honoured to serve the society of which I am a part. My education is a shared entity because it was gained through the public purse. I owe society for the pleasure my education has given to me.

With respect to me personally ‘making a difference’. I have readily joined the vast numbers, around the world, who have, indeed, been making a difference seemingly forever. The difference I have made is a mere drop in the pail compared to what many others have done but it is still a drop added to the pail. If there are many more drops then maybe, just maybe, the pail will be filled to overflowing and we will have a better society in which to enjoy our achievements and memories.

John E. Milnes January, 2011

Making a Difference

My first forty years as an immigrant

John E. Milnes

 {1}

"Our lives begin to end the day we become

silent about things that matter".

Martin Luther King, Jnr

It was July 24th, 1970, and the sun burst over the horizon on the Atlantic Ocean like an animal rushing from the underbrush in the forest. The brilliant, sparkling early morning light engulfed the Alexandre Pushkin, a Soviet Russian cruise ship entering the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The darkness of the night dropped away like a shawl being removed from the shoulders of a beautiful woman; the darkness represented our past and the gleaming daylight was the future we were so looking forward to.

The shadow cast by the ship pointed the way down the mighty St. Lawrence River to Canada, a land of new opportunities for the immigrants on board. Jan and I, both teachers, were among those immigrants, watching the approaching shoreline to a new land of adventure. The beautiful post dawn sky was somewhat bruised with garish clouds yet it appeared to be welcoming the newcomers to a vast and splendid land.

Jan and I had met when, as mature students at Leicester University College of Education, we were in the same Environmental Studies group; we used to joke we had met in a forest ecosystem! We had both been through a failed marriage and our similar likes and goals had quickly cemented our friendship into a firm relationship. We found ourselves teaching in the same school and, three years later, had decided to look for a new beginning in a new country.

At that time we were each legally separated and our divorces were proceeding, albeit slowly. In spite of these legal actions being in place, and before our immigration applications could be finalized, we were required to get our former spouses to give us written permission to emigrate. In Jan’s case she also had to get permission to take her son, then aged fourteen, with her. We got the required pieces of paper but they had cost us dearly. Jan had to forfeit the entire half of her house value, to which she would have, by law, been entitled in her divorce settlement while my former spouse had taken all my accumulated superannuation monies plus my bank accounts. These monies were our assets, meant to be a nest egg in our new country, but were now lost in our bid to start over again.

—

All of this, however, was behind us as we stood watching our magnificent cruise ship ease its way into the St. Lawrence River, a mighty waterway on whose banks, and unbeknown to us at that time, we were to spend much of the remainder of our lives. We knew we were arriving in Canada but we expected to travel much farther west and north of the St. Lawrence River.

Although we had enjoyed ten glorious days at sea, basking in a luxurious way of life which reflected the splendour of travel in days of yesteryear, we were pleased to see the land of our future. We had crossed the Atlantic at a leisurely cruising speed since it was a training opportunity for the ship’s crew, before embarking on a fresh season of North American cruises.

In the here and now, the present, we were looking at the communities emerging, in the dawn of another day, along the Québec shoreline of the St. Lawrence River with the new day’s sunshine glittering off the silver church domes and towers.

The river was a testament to the wonders of nature. The water-scape was awesome, appearing to stretch forever and yet lapping the distant shores of different Provinces of Canada.

It seemed to be endless in its magnificence. These were the fresh waters of the North American continent now feeding and refreshing the salty waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Scattered across the waters of the beautiful river were many small boats with fishermen, creating a picture of quiet solitude and peacefulness. Despite the interesting mosaic of life before us we could only envisage what our future had to offer. In some respects the beauty of the emerging country softened any doubts there may have been.

—

We had no idea there would emerge a series of interesting events that were to colour our lives and seem, I believe, to be worth recording. They were to be events that make a life whole since without them our lives would have been an empty shell. The first of these experiences was to confront us when, later that day, we docked in Montréal.

The arrival, that morning, of the Alexandre Pushkin in Montréal coincided with a strike of the stevedores on the docks. Fortunately, ships from communist countries carried their own stevedore crews so our collection of boxes, containers, packages and baggage was unloaded onto the docks by the ship’s staff. The problem then was what were the passengers to do about loading their heavy immigrant effects on to waiting vehicles?

Some items in our on-board possessions were too heavy to be manhandled by individuals unaccustomed to such manual labor! The docks were clogged with these items, the effects of emigrating people eager to hold on to reminders of the homes they had left behind.

Jan’s son had come to Canada ahead of us and was living with her brother, who had emigrated several years previously and was then living in Ottawa. Her brother had rented a truck and had come to welcome us. I asked a picketing stevedore if he would load our crates for us if I paid him. The picket’s response was brusque and quite to the point, he was not going to be a strike-breaker. He pointed and said, If you want to load those things onto your truck use that forklift, the keys are in it.

—

Now came my first challenge in our new Canadian life. I had never before used a forklift but nor was I afraid to try. Switching on the machine and testing what it did, gingerly pulling and pushing levers, I commenced loading our immigrant’s effects onto the rented truck. My success brought another challenge.

No sooner had I finished than I had a line-up of fellow passengers wanting me to load their goods. A difficult situation confronted me. I did not wish to offend future citizens of my new country but nor did I intend to start out my new life in Canada as a strike-breaker. I politely passed on the picketing stevedore’s message and we drove away to the customs and excise offices.

As it happened, with a strike in progress, no one expected people to bring things through the port of entry and there were no customs officers to confront us. We simply drove straight out of the docks. The first chapter in this edition of our new Canadian life had begun to be written. We had been lucky but luck is really a combination of unrelated factors merging at the same time and in the same place.

—

In the words of our new national anthem, ‘with glowing hearts’, to which was added a feeling of serenity, we drove to the home of Jan’s brother in Ottawa, marveling at the beauty of the countryside. The tremendous openness of the capital city also greatly impressed us as we sweltered in temperatures above ninety degrees [we hit the country as it was suffering through a heat wave]. Our next task, we thought, was to purchase a tractor and flat bed trailer.

We had planned to put our two large crates, yet to be located and containing our other belongings that had preceded us via the Manchester Liner Shipping Company, one on each end of the flat bed trailer. We intended to stretch a tarpaulin between the crates and use the space in between for living accommodation as we traversed the country in search of teaching positions. We had been assured, during interviews in London, England, we could obtain teaching positions in Lesser Slave Lake, Northern Alberta, where the Metis children were in need of teachers. We just needed to get there.

The sun continued to stream down on Ottawa, the capital city, bathing it in a glorious hue. The heat seemed to bounce off the pavement where, as the saying goes, you could have cooked eggs. We had arrived and it was a time to relax because the first part of our journey to the new land had been completed.

I sat reading the Ottawa newspaper, eagerly trying to get a sense of local flavour. In the process I noticed an advertisement seeking a teacher having Special Education qualifications. Although both Jan and I had studied, primarily, environmental sciences, we had also been trained in Special Education techniques and had put these skills to work in English schools. Because of this previous experience in teaching learning disadvantaged students we decided to give consideration to the opportunity offered in the advertisement.

We were, however, somewhat concerned for, prior to leaving England, we had read in the Times Educational Supplement a full page advertisement telling British teachers NOT to apply for jobs in Ontario because there were already too many teachers without jobs. This, obviously, caused us to pause before pursuing any possible employment in the Province; again we did not wish to rock any boats in our emergence as new immigrants.

—

After some thought and discussion we decided to go ahead and make enquiries. Although the advertisement in the newspaper for the vacant position required written applications I telephoned the Stormont, Dundas & Glengarry County Board of Education in Cornwall, Ontario, and spoke to the Superintendent in charge. This was to be the first step on the stairway in our new pattern of becoming Canadians. I asked the superintendent, to whom I spoke, if he was willing to interview two teachers with Special Education qualifications.

The Superintendent promptly reminded me the advertisement required written applications. I told the superintendent I fully understood the content and intent of his advertisement but he would be missing the chance to meet two of the finest Special Education teachers available who could not wait for the mailing process. He agreed to us being interviewed.

An interview, with the principal of the school seeking the Special Education teacher, was set for the following Tuesday in Ingleside, a new town built in the aftermath of the land being flooded for the huge power dam stretching across the St. Lawrence River at Cornwall. The town was in what had become known as the St. Lawrence Seaway Valley.

Once in Ingleside and close to the school we asked a young fellow on a bicycle the ages of the children in the elementary school. The youngster replied they are up to eight. Of course, he was referring to the grade classes. At that time, however, we did not know this and thought he meant age; that the children were very, very young.

I was now on a temporary ride to hell and back because I really preferred to teach older children and this post was for an elementary school position. We were early for our interview and sat in a local restaurant debating the pros and cons of teaching, as we thought, such very young children.

However, I felt a ‘bird in the hand’ was the more realistic approach to commencing life in a new country so it was a matter of upwards and onwards; we had to fulfill the interview and let the chips fall where they may. We had both qualified to teach from kindergarten to university so our skills were soon to be put to the test.

It was on a sweltering hot day, with the sun seemingly trying to melt us, that we had driven to Ingleside in a car belonging to Jan’s brother. It was so hot I began to wonder from where the tales of dreadfully cold winters came. It was most difficult to imagine such extremes of temperature all in one country.

—

The interview was certainly different. I was dressed as a typical Englishman, in tweeds and a properly knotted tie—the principal, who had come in from the nearby beach, was dressed very casually in cut-off shorts and tee shirt. Hello! We had arrived in Canada, a new land with new ways! This was most refreshing, although rather off-putting, because we expected more formality in a hiring situation.

The principal could not determine which one of us he ought to engage. He would, he told us, like to take us both but had only one vacant position. Declining to make the decision he asked us to go into the School Board offices in the City of Cornwall to meet the Superintendent who might, more easily, determine which one of us would be best for