Rosemarie D'Amico

I can’t remember if I had lofty dreams of greatness when I was a kid. I don’t recall lying in the grass, picturing myself as a famous explorer, a tamer of wild animals, or Prime Minister of Canada. I think I was pretty normal. None of my friends told me that they had dreams of greatness at the age of 10. We were too busy with Brownies and playing with Barbies.

My childhood was normal by today’s standards.  No abuse. No neglect. Fair and even parenting. It was as close to white-bread Canada as damn was to swearing. Truth: there was a Wonder Bread factory on the next block from our house in London, Ontario. Aside: I swear that factory is the reason I am addicted to bread and anything with white flour in it; imagine waking up every morning to the smell of baking bread.

Let’s all rise and give thanks to William A. Lawrence, a dairyman, late of New York State.  Lawrence was an American cheese-man who had the foresight and creativity to add some cream to a centuries-old cheese recipe which magically produced the basic ingredient for American-style cheesecake: cream cheese.

I was first introduced to the ambrosia known as cheesecake in 1972 when my father purchased the 12-volume set of Woman’s Day Encyclopedia of Cookery.  Volume 3, with “Cat-Cre” on the spine contained the magic recipe for Secret Harbor Cheesecake.  These cookbooks were purchased at a time in our family life when my mother and father, both of whom were talented cooks, decided to branch out and break from the traditional foods that up until then had adorned our table.

Growing up with a Regimental Sergeant-Major for a father does something for your character. 

You learn handy skills at an early age – like how to starch and iron shirts at seven years of age, polish shoes and brass, and how to make a quarter bounce off the tightly tucked-in sheets on your bunk.

You call your bed your bunk.

She’s sixteen, and the baby she is holding is a newborn. Her teenaged face is a little fuller, less mature than the face I knew. She has a gap between her front teeth, something I only just discovered. Her smile is real. She didn’t smile a lot, but when she did, you knew it was genuine. You could see it in her eyes.

A good resume is a must when we first start out looking for full-time employment. Often though, that first resume is thin in terms of experience – especially relevant experience. On my first resumes I proudly listed under “Previous Experience” jobs such as ‘Organizing Birthday Parties’, ‘Globe & Mail Paper Route’, and ‘Snack Bar Attendant at Cinema.’

The job I had that was hardest to describe on a resume, but the one that made the biggest impact on my life, was a four-year stint as a volunteer. It started with an announcement at high school.  A local organization was looking for volunteers to travel to Smiths Falls, Ontario on Saturdays to the Rideau Regional Hospital School.