Kiss Me I Am Ukrainian. Well At Least I Am Nice Too

ukrainian dance, ukrainians in canada.

ukrainian dance, ukrainians in canada. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There was a time when I had no clue who or what was a Ukrainian.  Seems my mom didn’t either.  As kids living in the beautiful and warm island of St. Vincent and The Grenadines, my brother and I would usually get matching clothes from our mom who lived in beautiful and frigid Winnipeg.  One day we got t-shirts.

My brother’s t-shirt said, ‘Kiss me, I am Ukrainian’ and mine read, ‘I am not Ukrainian but I’m nice too.’  We wore them proudly, like true Ukrainians, without a clue.  Then I came to Canada and met real Ukrainians.  I felt like a fool.  Yes, they were nice.  They made great food too but I didn’t kiss any.  Or did I?

I remembered this some time ago and related it to my wife and then to my mom.  “What were you thinking when you sent us those shirts, mom?”  I asked.  “I don’t know.  I just grabbed them.” Yep, that’s my mom alright.  At least she sent us stuff.

Footnote:  To the people in the Ukraine, I know who you are now.  Praying for you.  

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About Enigma

I am just a normal guy with an abnormal way of thinking. Proud father to three remarkable boys and devoted husband to an angelic wife who knows everything and does everything to perfection. So I am BLESSED!
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