When Father’s Day comes, I get invited out an awful lot
– Don Wall
For me, it all started in 1980, before I even knew what volunteering with newcomers really meant. A friend from church was helping Vietnamese refugees and asked if I could lend a hand. I said, “Let me know when you need help.” That simple offer changed my life.
The first family I supported didn’t speak English. I was apprehensive, unsure how to connect. But with help from another Vietnamese family in the building, we found a way. I bought ESL books and tapes, and we learned together. Word spread, and soon I was helping ten people at once—teaching math and physics, hosting study groups, buying textbooks. I was still working full-time, but every evening and weekend was spent with newcomers.
Why do I do it?
Because I get so much joy out of helping people. That’s the truth. I’ve never married or had children, but I’ve gained dozens of families. One young man from El Salvador, who barely spoke English when we met, invited me to his 60th birthday. I was at his wedding and his two daughters’ weddings. Their children call me “Grandpa Don.”
Another time, I helped a refugee claimant from Peru who had fled the Shining Path. He arrived in Canada by accident—Aeroflot had a layover in Gander, and he got off the plane, saw Mounties, and asked for help. I helped him file his refugee claim, write a 20-page personal information form, and eventually help him reunite with his wife and children. When his daughter was about to get married, the mother introduced me as “my father in Canada.” I didn’t know what to say. I still get emotional thinking about it.
I’ve hosted Christmas dinners for up to 70 people, cooked for weddings with 160 guests, and done 750 tax returns for people in a single season – on paper and calculator.
I’ve received awards, yes—but the real reward is the relationships. When Father’s Day comes, I get invited out an awful lot.
I never planned any of this. I just said yes when someone asked for help.
And I kept saying yes.
Because once you see the impact—once someone calls you “Dad” or “Grandpa” or “family”—you realize that helping isn’t just something you do. It becomes who you are.