By the definition of those who hate me, I am a racist, not because I hate, but because I love too much, because I love my native land in whose earth I can trace my line back a thousand years, for which my ancestors fought and in which their bones are buried. To them, I am a racist because I love my people, a race which has done more to benefit mankind and the greater good than almost any other which has walked the earth.Sarah: M of A.
Let them call me racist I will not renounce my love for my land and my people, even if, as a result I must accept the ugly words my enemies throw at me.
My mum was buried in Vancouver, a fact which saddens me. I received a call from my cousin in Surrey, who asked if it would be OK to plant a rose bush in the family plot there in her memory.
I haven't gone to visit the Lindsay's yet, and I want to do so soon, now that the weather shows signs of improvement. I was the first in all my family's history to have been born away from the sacred native soil, and I want to make up for lost time.