SEARCHING FOR MY CANADIAN FATHER  
  I am trying to trace my natural father. The info is extremely sketchy, but I have a photo which I have placed on this page (RIGHT) along with a recent picture of myself (BELOW).

Here is a summary of what I know:

He was/is French Canadian.
He was a Private with the Royal Canadian Army Medical Corps (RCAMC) when he met my mother.
He would (most likely) have been born between 1915 and 1930.
His first name was Andrew, though he might also be known by the French equivalent, Andre (SURNAME UNKNOWN).
I have been told that his uniform identifies him (apart from being in the RCAMC) as wearing the sleeve badge of someone who is a qualified Tradesman, Class II.
He was stationed at one of two bases (Fort St Louis or Fort Chambly) near the towns of Werl and Soest in N. Germany in 1956. My mother met him there in 1956, while working for the WVS. Her name was then Sheila MacAllister
(the photo shows them sitting together in 'The Canteen Club' at Fort Chambly).

Mark Granier [a short bio]



I was born in London in 1957, and brought up in Dublin, Ireland, by my mother and grandparents. I had a happy and secure childhood, and was never made feel acutely conscious of my father's absence. However, as I grow older that absence is becoming more pronounced, a presence in its own right. And the fact that I have one, haunting photograph of him (and that he looks strikingly like me) makes my search seem still more imperative.

If anyone recognises this man or has any information they think might be relevant, please contact me at:  graniermark@yahoo.co.uk

The following is a poem I wrote about the photograph (above):

'THE CANTEEN CLUB' , FORT CHAMBLY, 1956

This black and white flash of the father I've never met.
Uniformed, in a dark beret, he's sitting half-turned
to the camera. Beside him my darkhaired mother is smiling
openly, beautiful in a lightweight dress and cardigan.
His features --- big hand curled on the arm of the chair
with a dangling cigarette, big jaw, neat little ear
and tentative, sleepy half-smile ---
are almost my own; and my age now
in the same room, his glance
retreating, advancing
to meet mine, halfway.

     
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