August 1, 2005. East Way from Toronto to Montreal. Kinston, Oshawa (Ford Manufacturing Company), Pickering (Ontatio Nuclear Atomic Energy Plant), Cornwal and many others are passing by. The names of the streets are repeating the Toronto’s streets: Bloor, Prince Edward, Anne, Jane, John, James and so on. 

August 1, 2005 at 7-30 p.m. Arrived in Montreal. Stayed in the “Thrifty Lodge” by the address: 3270 Barclay Str., Apt. 7-b Cote de Neige District, Montreal.

August 2, 2005, Montreal. Spent the whole day downtown, taking in the beauty of the Cathedrals: St. James, Notre dame de Montreal’s, St. Margarette’s with its Gottic style, the beauty of interiors and exteriors. I felt in Montreal at that moment as if I were back in St. Petersburg, Russia. Along the St. Lawrence river embankment many interesting things are going on. I attracted to the clown’s tricks performing on the street, small cobble stone street showing its three and a half century origin. Janko’s fluent French was helping everywhere. He was in his element. He was my tour guide and generously shared his knowledge of old city history. We walked and walked, and talked.

In the afternoon we took a ride by Montreal Metro (before there were only two lines, now three) to a cute small suburban town Longelle to visit Janko’s Mom at the nursing home “Trinity Manor”, room 211. Her name: Suzanne Anne Heinz Holly, a tiny, well-groomed nice woman, lying in bed. “I cannot walk”, she warned-“Already for 5 years. Before I used a walker.”

“I am your son Jim.” said Janko.

“Okay.” she answered and smiled. It was hot on that day everywhere: outside and inside, and I noticed Suzanne’s face was wet with sweat. I took a face cloth, rushed to the tap water, squeezed it and returned to Janko’s Mom. I refreshed her face with water, and she smiled even more, now at me. She said “Belle femme”. I helped her with the plums we brought with, handed a bucket of red roses and poster with verses. She was so pleased with our attention to her that her eyes were lit up with joy. I remembered Robert Burns’ poem “A Red, Red Rose” which I recited for her:

“O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O mu Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass…”

The visit to Janko’s Mom was wonderful!

Listen, please:

(to be continued)

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