Sometimes one does the right thing. In the right place with the right people, at the right time. For the right reasons.

Be confident that I will not be making any world-changing statements or thinking deeply into the current situation in the Middle East. I leave that to much more intelligent minds who spend much more time reviewing the past, analyzing the present and predicting the future.

I went to high school in St. Catharines in the 1960s, enjoying six wonderful years at Sir Winston Churchill Secondary School. The bricks and mortar didn’t make the school a sitcom. The students were special, so diverse in so many ways.

We had such divergent interests and goals. Incredibly, of about 800 students, only Terry Martin was a person of colour.

Religion was not discussed, to the best of my knowledge, and people were just people. Was your family name Smith or Oblinski or Rubin? Or Feldman or Robinson? Nobody seemed to notice or care.

I love my parents for many reasons, including the fact that the differences between gentile and Catholic and Jewish were never discussed. I went to a Christian camp as a camper and a cook, and I taught Sunday School at Mountainview United Church.

I still don’t know all the differences between Muslim and Hindu and Hebrew and Catholic.

To my mom and dad, people were people. Most were good and, sadly, a few were bad.

And even now, I don’t want to understand organized religions. To the best of my knowledge, my son and daughter don’t care either. They are 27 and 24 now, world travelers and making their way in an increasingly complicated world.

They haven’t allowed organized religion to cloud their thinking. Daughter Carrie studied world religions, but seems to treat everyone fairly.

They understand the Golden Rule and try to be kind.

A few weeks ago I read in the St. Catharines Standard that the Congregation B’nai Israel of St. Catharines was going to celebrate its 100th anniversary at the Performing Arts Centre.

I thought about it for about three seconds and decided that I had to attend. This must-do was immediately entered into my planning calendar.

A chance to see many high school chums and to chat with many friends of my mom and dad from the 1960s and 1970s.

Some of my high school pals were named Bernstein and Rubin and Newman and Slepkov and Tomarin and Tick. My parents absolutely loved Dolly and Bernie Cooperman, playing bridge with them almost every week, and enjoying theatre trips to Toronto.

As vice-president of purchasing for Atlas Steels in Welland, my dad did a pile of business every month with scrap dealers named Adelstein and Newman and Goldblatt.

They loved him and he loved them. It was just the natural thing to do. Unconditionally. You treat me right and I’ll treat you right.

A verbal deal was a deal, over the phone. No written contracts were needed.

So imagine my shock when I read the president’s message in the 100th anniversary program at the Performing Arts Centre. I had never realized that antisemitism pervaded my childhood Garden City.

Dr. Howard Slepkov, the chair of the board of the St. Catharines Synagogue, wrote: “Now, I find myself thinking back to the world when the founding (Jewish) families banded together and determined to build a synagogue.”

“Jacob Cooperman had to ask a non-Jewish friend to buy the property for us because the owner would not sell to a Jew. At that time, our people were not welcomed at the St. Catharines Tennis Club or the Port Dalhousie Yacht Club or the St. Catharines Golf Club. Those barriers did not start to drop until the mid 1960s.”

“No one today would even think twice about our becoming members anywhere and there are laws to protect us against such virulent antisemitism. Now, instead, we have to consider our personal security when we attend the synagogue, or as we plan for the gala concert and reception at the Performing Arts Centre in downtown St. Catharines.”

Not that long ago.

At the gala concert, several friends from NOTL were surprised and happy to see me. Frankly and happily, I had not realized they were Jewish. Thanks again to my parents.

Sitting at the PAC that day, several times I sensed my mom and dad looking down from heaven and saying, “Thanks, Ross, for being there in our stead. Give our love to our friends.”

I was in the right place that afternoon, surrounded by love and kindness.

God bless you all.