Two suitcases and a pressure cooker

My parents landed at Pearson in January 1994 with two suitcases and a pressure cooker. My mother had packed the cooker in the middle of her clothes, wrapped in a sari, because she had heard that Canadian rice was different and she did not trust it.

That first winter my father worked nights at a bakery in Rexdale and my mother cleaned offices downtown. They did not have a plan for personal growth. They had a routine: dal on Sunday, calls home on the first of the month, English lessons on Tuesday night no matter how tired they were. The routine got them through. It is still the best plan I know.