The value of my life, I always claim, depends on the memories accumulated to this very moment, as I breathe and write these words. Someone perhaps wiser will tell you to forget the past and live in the present, and I’ll not argue, if you happen to be young, really young. ‘Le Football’ is a personal story that reminds me of a pivotal time in my life, the early years in Canada and how poignantly the lesson was forcibly learned that not a single soul ought ever be uprooted from place of birth, no matter what, not for political reasons (even if compelling at the time) and most certainly not for economic considerations. Indeed one can grow a reasonable facsimile of a banana tree in an indoor pot and even produce fruit, but they’ll be puny and lackluster in taste in comparison to the tropical tree. Parents have a moral obligation to nurture and raise their children on their own native soil, period. A harsh judgment but one I stand by.
‘Le Football’ by Jean-Michel Papirchuk
A very touching ‘souvenir’ of youthful ardor and imagination.
As always you are generous in your praise. I remember the event in great detail as it was a most unhappy dénouement to an episode of heedless selfishness. I hasten to say I learned from that bitter experience to be more judicial in my future desires and expectations.