Another blog post from the past for #MondayBlogs, this time from Nov. 17, 2011.
My mother raised me to be an honest person. Like a good writer, she did this by showing me through example rather than telling me how I should act. I remember accompanying her to the grocery store along Queen St. and watching in amazement while she gave back an overpayment of change the clerk had handed to her. It wasn’t much money, but enough that the clerk was taken aback. I guess no other customer had been so honest as to to call out a mistake made in their favour. That lesson really stuck with me, mainly because it happened more than once.
Both my parents were honest people. They were never rich, but Dad earned a decent living, enough to look after our family. We were lucky, I guess, that Grandma had become the financier she did when she first came to Canada from Belgium, building up a small…
View original post 1,089 more words