My grandfather on my Dad’s side died when I was 12. My middle name was named for him. My Grandmother and his wife died a number of years later. They grew up in the farming community in the province of Manitoba, Canada. The breadbasket of Canada.
I remember getting my first tool set just a couple years before he passed. He had an old shed he worked out of just like my dad would for most of his life.
He fixed things that were broken. He repaired trucks, cars and items in and out of the house. He lived a simple life. He was grateful for what he had and to live in a country where you could carve your own path based on hard work.
My grandfather is Ukrainian. My Dad is Ukrainian
Two of the biggest communities of Ukrainians are in Manitoba and Edmonton, Alberta where I grew up.
In 1997 and one of the biggest floods since 1950 in Winnipeg, my dad traveled to help his brother to build a fortress of sandbags around and save his house. The community worked together to defend their lively hood.
Ukrainians are gritty, prideful and don’t give up.
Defending Democracy and Defeating Autocracy.
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