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Aiding medical research

When Ariel Louwrier speaks about StressMarq Biosciences – the Victoria-based company he founded that specializes in the development and commercialization of high-quality bioreagents – in terms a layperson would understand, he draws an analogy to another era.

“If you think of drug discovery as a gold rush, we make the picks and shovels,” Louwrier said.

Ariel Louwrier, founder of StressMarq Biosciences. (photo from StressMarq)

The company’s start during the 2008 financial crisis may not have been the most opportune time to launch an enterprise. Yet, Louwrier was able to secure a small amount of funding from the United Kingdom, which he used to invest in a variety of licences to make certain tools – at the time, antibodies specific to cancer research.

One of the hurdles he had to confront at the time was a strong Canadian dollar. For a company that exports its product and generally charges customers in US dollars, this posed challenges to the bottom line, until currency rates began to normalize after 2012.

“We were very draconian in terms of our spending, because the company was still very much in start-up mode,” he said. “I didn’t take a salary for the first three or four years, which helped the company. Of course, it didn’t help me.”

Eventually, around 2015, StressMarq considered developing a different type of product. Whereas it had once made antibodies, it decided to start making proteins instead. It moved into the neurodegenerative disease research space, as opposed to cancer, which, Louwrier noted, is a crowded area with companies from the United States, Europe and Asia vying against one another, making for a lot of products in the market.

“The genesis of it was literally a friend of a friend that asked us to try to make something, a very specific product. It’s unusual for people to undertake strange projects for free in this world,” Louwrier said. “I’d always felt that it was an interesting and useful thing to allocate about 10% of our time and money into doing exactly that, because you never know what’s going to come out in the end. We were asked and tasked specifically to make a particular protein aggregate – those are proteins that come together and they form, literally, an aggregate.”

The artificial protein aggregates that StressMarq makes are comparable in many ways – though not always the same – to what forms in the human brain as neurodegenerative diseases progress, whether it’s Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s or ALS. They are all different proteins, but the process is roughly the same.

“For us, the task has always been to try to make something that is as biologically relevant as possible for the researchers because they use that material to create the model,” Louwrier said. “The model is essentially a version of the diseased brain, but in a much more simplistic form. Then, researchers can proceed and do their work on the model. They’ll have drug candidates. They may have different treatment regimes, as well. But they work on an artificial model, and we produce the products for them.”

The timing for StressMarq to move into a different arena was good. Dollars were beginning to pour into research for neurodegenerative diseases, such as Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s, including money from the National Institutes of Health in Washington, DC, the largest public funder of biomedical research in the world.

“We’ve ended up in a position where it makes sense to try to find, not necessarily cures, but treatments that can extend the time period for patients whilst they still have the vast majority of what you think of as typical cognitive abilities,” Louwrier said.

Continuing growth

Beginning in a 150-square-foot office on Douglas Street in Victoria, Louwrier hired his first employee in 2008 and produced a small array of products. These days, StressMarq employs 27 people, in 9,000 square feet allocated through six different suites in a building in Victoria’s Oaklands neighbourhood.

By Louwrier’s account, StressMarq is likely the largest biotechnology company from a laboratory perspective in the city and certainly the largest that is private.

“There’s no government funds, there’s no venture capital funds in here. It’s a completely self-defined and self-financing business,” he said.

StressMarq was not shaken by the pandemic because it was one of the entities governments wanted to keep open, even though it was not involved with COVID-related research.

This year, in a turbulent economic situation, with tariffs often changing, StressMarq has not been impacted for the most part, aside from a couple of minor exceptions. Louwrier said StressMarq’s customers have not been affected by the macroeconomic volatility, or the furloughs that occurred during the US government shutdown.

As the industry space and its technologies become more mainstream, Louwrier envisages a bright future for the firm, and he suspects the company will long outlast him when he decides to retire – whenever that may be.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

Connecting Jews to Judaism

Chabad of Nanaimo’s annual Hanukkah menorah lighting gathering is one of its most publicly visible events. Last year, it was held in Maffeo Sutton Park. (© Norm Wolf)

When Rabbi Bentzi Shemtov and his wife Blumie established Chabad Nanaimo and Central Vancouver Island in 2015, there was no Orthodox organizational presence in Nanaimo. Their arrival ignited a spark of Yiddishkeit that has helped Jews in the area make a deeper connection to their Jewish roots.

Rabbi Shemtov’s path to the Island led him through various places. Growing up in Toledo, Ohio, he attended yeshivah in Detroit, studied in Israel for two years, spent time in Chicago, and then moved back to Detroit. Eventually, he ended up in New York, where he finished his rabbinical studies and married Blumie, who is the sister of Rabbi Meir Kaplan – Kaplan, with his wife Chanie, established Chabad of Vancouver Island in Victoria. Before the Shemtovs settled in Nanaimo, Rabbi Shemtov gained experience running services and teaching classes in places all over the world, including St. Thomas, Colombia, Moscow and Uruguay.

Chabad of Nanaimo and Central Vancouver Island was established with the encouragement of Rabbi Kaplan. Prior to 2015, Kaplan would travel from Victoria to Nanaimo and the Cowichan Valley (Ladysmith, Parksville, Qualicum Beach) on Sukkot with the Sukkah Mobile and for the public lighting of a Hanukkah menorah in Nanaimo. On these journeys, he would speak to Jews residing in these areas, and he saw the need for a Chabad House in the region.

“Rabbi Kaplan called me up and told me that he was visiting Nanaimo for 10 years and he was doing a menorah lighting and the population was growing and he was getting requests for more Yiddishkeit here and asked if I could check it out,” Shemtov told the Independent. So, they came to Victoria for Pesach and spent it with the Kaplans. “And then, after Pesach, we came up here to visit with some of the families and then we decided to move here,” he said.

photo - Rabbi Bentzi Shemtov at Chabad Nanaimo and Central Vancouver Island, which he and his wife Blumie established in 2015 — Rabbi Bentzi Shemtov at Chabad Nanaimo and Central Vancouver Island, which he and his wife Blumie established in 2015. *(photo by David J. Litvak)*

Shemtov said he thought Nanaimo was a beautiful place and, by being there, he and his wife could serve a need in the community, though he admits they didn’t really know how many Jews resided in the area at the time.

“We did a women’s circle a couple of weeks later and there were about 28 women who came, many who may have met before but didn’t realize they had common Jewish ancestry,” he said.

Events and classes have been added over time. Today, Chabad of Nanaimo offers programming both at and away from its physical space. It commemorates all the Jewish holidays, offers weekly Shabbat services, has a Hebrew school that meets twice a month, a teen event that’s held twice a month, a camp in the summer, a Jewish woman’s circle and weekly classes for adults. The best-attended events, according to Shemtov, are holiday-related, including Rosh Hashanah and Passover dinners, the Megillah readings on Purim, Shavuot services, and the Hanukkah gathering. For special events, Jews come from all over Vancouver Island and the surrounding area, including Cormorant, Hornby and Galiano islands.

According to Shemtov, Chabad of Nanaimo is strategically located in northern Nanaimo and not downtown.

“We wanted to be as close as possible to the northern communities of Lantzville, Nanoose Bay, Parksville and Qualicum Beach because a lot of retired Jews live there and north Nanaimo is right in the middle.”

There are a lot of young families, as well, who don’t live in the downtown core, or even the city, he said.

Chabad is not the only Jewish organization in town. The Central Vancouver Island Jewish Community Society preceded them, and they still hold monthly discussions and a yearly Hanukkah party. The society was founded by Dr. Phillip Lipsey, a Montrealer who moved to Parksville, and Arlene Ackerman, a former Torontonian.

“They have been here for a long time and have kept the Jewish community here together … because they wanted to make sure there was a Jewish community for the kids growing up here,” said Shemtov.

While the two groups serve different constituencies, Shemtov said, “There is overlap between our two groups and I have a great relationship with the organizers, and I learn every week with them.”

The presence of Chabad, though, has helped Jews in the region deepen their connection to Judaism, with some community members now lighting Shabbat candles regularly, keeping kosher, attending Shabbat and holiday services, and planning lifecycle events like bar mitzvahs for their children. The synagogue’s first bar mitzvah will take place Dec. 6.

One older member of the community was even inspired to have a brit milah (circumcision) later in life after connecting with Chabad of Nanaimo, said the rabbi. Another member, who attends services infrequently, told Shemtov that Chabad is the only place in the city he feels at home in – he’s “grateful we are here because it gives him a sense of comfort knowing that there’s a Jewish presence in town, especially after Oct. 7,” said Shemtov.

One of the most publicly visible events Chabad of Nanaimo hosts is its annual Hanukkah menorah lighting, which last year was held in Maffeo Sutton Park, drawing more than 200 people. For information about this year’s event on Dec. 14, people can check out Chabad’s website. It is open to Jews and non-Jews alike and provides an opportunity for non-Jews to show their support for the Jewish community of Nanaimo and celebrate shared values, said Shemtov. Usually, local elected officials attend, from all levels of government.

“It was the Rebbe who pioneered the idea of the public menorah lightings, which encountered opposition from Jews initially who were afraid to publicly express their Judaism,” said Shemtov. “Today, everyone does it and they have no reservations about it, and they feel good about publicly expressing their Judaism and are proud to show that they are Jewish.”

Shemtov said Hanukkah is “an exciting time for the Jewish community of Nanaimo and the holiday is all about bringing light to the darkness and acknowledging our right to be good people out in public.

“It also gives a sense of pride for the Jewish community in Nanaimo to celebrate their Judaism in public by lighting a menorah with our non-Jewish friends and supporters” he said. “The message of Hanukkah is that we should always focus on increasing the light, which is the vision of the Rebbe, who loved every Jew and wanted to make sure that no Jew will be left behind, which are values that Chabad represents.”

For more information about Chabad of Nanaimo, visit jewishnanaimo.com.

David J. Litvak is a prairie refugee from the North End of Winnipeg who is a freelance writer and publicist, and a mashgiach at Louis Brier Home and Hospital. His articles have been published in the Forward, Globe and Mail and Seattle Post-Intelligencer. His website is cascadiapublicity.com.

Beacon of light in heart of city

The lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah in the Vancouver Art Gallery Plaza is an annual tradition. This year, the first candle will be lit on Dec. 14. (photo from Lubavitch BC)

The lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah in the Vancouver Art Gallery Plaza is an annual tradition. This year, the first candle will be lit on Dec. 14.

As the first night of Hanukkah approaches, the Vancouver Art Gallery Plaza will once again welcome the annual lighting of the Silber Family Agam Menorah. Rising at the corner of Georgia and Hornby streets, this work of public art has become an enduring symbol of Jewish pride, resilience and unity for more than three decades.

photo - Silber Family Agam Menorah — (photo from Lubavitch BC)

Designed and built in 1991 by internationally renowned Israeli artist and sculptor Yaacov Agam, the menorah was commissioned by Fred Silber and the Silber family for Chabad Lubavitch of British Columbia. More than a sculpture, it was envisioned as a joyful and unapologetic statement of Jewish presence in the centre of downtown Vancouver. Since its debut, the menorah has returned each year with ceremony and celebration, illuminating the city skyline with its vibrancy and timeless message: that even in the darkest seasons, the light of Jewish identity continues to shine.

What began as a family’s dedication has grown into one of the largest annual Jewish gatherings in the province. Each year, hundreds of community members, friends, supporters and neighbours bundle up and fill the plaza for the first lighting of Hanukkah. Children clutch chocolate gelt and jelly donuts, elders share stories of holidays past, and young families, students and professionals gather to feel connected and uplifted.

Distinguished guests from across the civic and political landscape will join the festivities Dec. 14, reflecting the wide recognition the Agam Menorah lighting has earned as a Vancouver tradition. Member of Parliament Wade Grant will attend on behalf of the Canadian government and MP Melissa Lantsman will represent the official opposition. Their presence underscores not only the event’s Jewish significance, but also its role as a valued civic moment celebrating inclusiveness and the strength of community bonds.

“Each candle we kindle is more than a flame – it’s a statement of Jewish pride and a reminder that light, unity and hope will always overcome darkness,” said Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld, director of Chabad Lubavitch BC. “This menorah has become part of Vancouver’s identity, and this celebration brings our entire community together in a beautiful and powerful way.”

The evening will feature traditions that light up the plaza each year: chocolate gelt, donuts, music, dancing, and greetings exchanged among old friends and new faces.

The message of the Silber Family Agam Menorah is as relevant today as it was 30 years ago. In a world often challenged by uncertainty, its light stands as a reminder of the enduring spirit of the Jewish people and the importance of gathering publicly, proudly and joyfully.

As the candles are kindled once more, the entire community is invited to join in this Vancouver tradition. The gathering on Dec. 14 starts at 3:30 p.m. For more about Chabad Lubavitch of British Columbia’s holiday events, lightings and activities, go to lubavitchbc.com.

– Courtesy Lubavitch BC

Drag & Dreidel: A Queer Jewish Hanukkah Celebration

(photo from Queer Jewish Art Society)

The second annual Drag & Dreidel: A Queer Jewish Hanukkah Celebration, hosted by the Queer Jewish Art Society, takes place Dec. 9 in Vancouver. Created by queer Jews for queer Jews and their allies, everyone is welcome. The 19+ evening brings together drag, burlesque, comedy, music and Hanukkah ritual in a joyful, safe and inclusive space. Doors open at 6:45 p.m., and the show starts at 7:30 p.m. For tickets ($18-$54), go to showpass.com/drag-dreidel. Venue details will be sent to ticketholders prior to the event.

– Queer Jewish Art Society

An emotional reunion

Randy Wolfe, left, with Aharon Botzer, co-founder of Livnot U’Lehibanot. (photo from Livnot U’Lehibanot)

Reuven (Randy) Wolfe of Winnipeg recently returned to Tzfat, Israel, to reconnect with the founders of Livnot U’Lehibanot and with the place where his Jewish journey began.

Wolfe first arrived in Tzfat in 1981, as a young participant in Livnot’s third-ever program. Now, 44 years later, he and his wife, Beverly Werbuk, walked once again through the same stone alleyways, into the same historic buildings and back into the same spirit that once transformed Wolfe’s life.

“I remember everything,” he shared. “The formula still works: no show, no pretending, just truth, action, open hearts and good people.”

Since that formative experience, Wolfe has built a full life in Canada – family, community and career – yet the spark that was lit in Tzfat has never faded.

“Coming back to Livnot,” he said, “felt like coming home.”

For more than four decades, Livnot U’Lehibanot, founded by Aharon and Miriam Botzer, has guided thousands of young Jews from around the world to connect with their roots through hands-on volunteering, learning and community, including the rebuilding of homes along Israel’s borders.

“The walls may have changed,” Reuven smiled, “but the spirit – that same spirit – is still alive. It continues to build the Jewish people, in Israel and throughout the diaspora.”

– Courtesy Livnot U’Lehibanot

Post-tumble, lights still shine

I recently celebrated Shabbat morning in a way I don’t recommend. I stepped out of my house for the dog walk, thought, “Oh, slippery!” The next thing I knew, I lost my footing. I fell down several stone steps. I ended up on the sidewalk. I’d let go of the leash. My large dog stood patiently, looking concerned, as I lay on the front walk, assessing the situation.

We’ve had a long and temperate fall here in Winnipeg. The light glaze of ice that covered everything was an unfortunate surprise. I’m very lucky. I was able to get up. I went back up the front stairs with the dog and got help. While I’m bruised and my hands were bloodied, nothing broke. While I would have preferred to go right back to bed, I stayed active enough to manage the rest of the weekend. My kids volunteer at services, so I still had to go there, too. Sometimes, what we want isn’t possible, so we make the best of the situation.

I think about Hanukkah, and the adversity that Jews face, in this way. In the best possible situation, we wouldn’t have to fight physically or verbally to maintain our traditions. We would be able to celebrate in a full-throated way, without hesitation. Yet, that option doesn’t always feel possible, even if we might think that embracing Jewish joy is the best way forward.

The issue arose for me recently when I participated in an accessible “make along.” This event, called Fasten Off, has a period each fall where knitting and crochet designers offer a big discount on their downloadable patterns. It is intended to be as accessible as possible to people with disabilities, as well as those with other challenges. There are multiple categories of challenges: non-gendered, low-vision, sizing for those who are taller or larger than average. For the first time, this year, there was a category on the form that one could tick off that said, “marginalized religious group.” I really didn’t know what to do.

It’s true that my designs include kippot and a hamantashen baby rattle stuffie. I have never hidden my identity. Now, in Canada, Jews are a marginalized group, with documented hate crime numbers and antisemitism rising. However, I wondered what would happen if I checked off this box. Would it mean fewer people would buy my work? More? What benefit would it have? I both ticked off the box and contacted the organizer to mention my concern. I got no response at all, which made me feel even more worried.

My sales stats show what a huge shift the last two years have been. Previously, one of my kippah patterns, as an example, had been a dependable seller. I looked up this design’s sales and found I’d sold only about 16 kippah patterns (all styles) on three sales platforms during two years of the Gaza war. In the previous year, 2022/23, I sold 14 copies of this pattern on only one sales platform. As a result of this drastic sales drop (I have more than 80 designs online), I ended up taking a break from designing. It no longer became cost-effective to sink money into creating new designs when knitters no longer make even these small purchases. It doesn’t mean my business interests changed. The situation has. I’m still marketing my work, offering discounts and trying to attract interest – even while being part of a “marginalized group.”

Our tradition teaches us to pivot when things are challenging. In the Torah parsha (portion) Toldot, Isaac grows successful as a shepherd. (Genesis 26:13 and onwards) However, when he increases his household and flocks, he needs more water. When he digs new wells, he runs into trouble. First, the Philistines fill up his old wells and, then, as he moves onward, digging new ones, other herdsmen object. He pivots, digging new wells in new places until he finds one that works out. Meanwhile, in time, those who objected to him previously seek a reconciliation, seeing Isaac’s divine fortune, and they make peace. (Genesis 26:31)

After hearing this portion chanted in synagogue, a friend reminded me that sometimes being resilient means pivoting or waiting with patience when faced with adversity. Things don’t turn around right away. We both have engaged in a lot of Jewish advocacy and antisemitism education work over the past year together. She is a professional, public figure, while I tend to write and reach out behind the scenes as a volunteer. Sometimes, my efforts net quick responses, and I know what I said mattered. Other times, I have no idea if anyone received my email or if they read it. I keep trying, as I’m invested in this effort to make life better for Canadian Jews for the long haul.

I believe that bringing up issues concerning antisemitism education, equity reviews in schools and school curriculum matters makes a difference. Sometimes my message reaches the right reporter or school official. Sometimes, it doesn’t or it fails. Yet, in every situation, it’s important to pick myself up, dust myself off – and start all over again, even if the setbacks can hurt.

During Hanukkah, we celebrate the triumph of regaining religious freedom and peace. We use candles to illustrate the metaphor of bringing light to dark times. Sometimes that light is sweeter because of the struggle beforehand.

I’m still very sore from tumbling down our icy front steps, but I’m also incredibly grateful. This morning, the dog barked, asking for her walk and, while I may still be hobbling and bruised for a bit, I was able to get outside again.

That opportunity, to keep digging wells, reaching out to others and continuing to try? It matters. Some might see Jews as marginalized, but it’s also possible to take another read. Rather, we’re lucky and resilient, too, a people offering religious freedom and Hanukkah light to other nations.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Visit to cradle of Ashkenaz

Buried next to Maharam of Rothenburg’s grave is Alexander ben Salomon of Wimpfen (known in some sources as Alexander Süsskind Wimpfen) – the man who paid for the release of the rabbi’s remains. (photo by Pat Johnson)

They say that history repeats itself and, if this is true at all, it is perhaps more true for Jewish history. The recent exchange of almost 2,000 imprisoned Palestinian terrorists for the remaining Jewish hostages held in Gaza was an act of moral compromise that has a long lineage.

Throughout Israeli history, the centrality in Jewish values of the sanctity of life and the respectful burial of the dead have been exploited by the country’s enemies. Yahya Sinwar, the mastermind of the 10/7 pogrom, was himself freed in a 2011 prisoner release that saw more than 1,000 Palestinian terrorists set free in exchange for the freedom of Gilad Shalit, an Israeli held in Gaza for more than five years.

The ransoming of Jews goes back much, much further, however – at least to the very beginning of Ashkenaz.

In a recent brief visit to the German city of Worms, southwest of Frankfurt, I learned of Rabbi Meir of Rothenburg, who was the leading Ashkenazi halakhic authority of the 13th century. Also known as the Maharam of Rothenburg (an acronym of “Moreinu ha-rav Rabbi Meir,” meaning “Our teacher, the rabbi, Rabbi Meir”), he was imprisoned after attempting to leave the Holy Roman Empire around 1286. Jews were legally considered imperial property and valued for their tax revenue. His attempted departure was due to rising oppression, repressive taxes and broader political instability.

His arrest was intended both to prevent Jewish emigration and to extract a massive ransom by holding the most prominent rabbi of the era hostage. Although the Jewish communities were prepared to pay for his release, the Maharam refused to permit an excessive ransom, invoking the talmudic principle that captives should not be redeemed at exorbitant cost lest it encourage future kidnappings. He remained imprisoned until his death in 1293. After death, his body was held for 14 years, until a private individual paid for the release. He was ultimately buried in the Jewish cemetery at Worms.

The cemetery is known as Heiliger Sand, or Holy Sand, and the Maharam’s grave is adorned in mountains of memorial stones. Buried next to him, and also remembered with countless stones, is Alexander ben Salomon of Wimpfen (known in some sources as Alexander Süsskind Wimpfen) – the man who paid for the release of the rabbi’s remains. The parallel graves symbolize the duality of moral sacrifice and restorative compassion.

The Maharam aside, the cemetery is one of the most significant burial sites in the Jewish world. It is the oldest remaining Jewish cemetery in Europe, the earliest grave estimated to date from 1058.

Worms was one of the central pillars of medieval Jewish civilization because it stood at the heart of Ashkenazi religious, legal and cultural development during the Middle Ages. Together with Mainz and Speyer, Worms was one of the “ShUM cities,” the most important Jewish centres north of the Alps between roughly the 10th and 13th centuries. The ShUM communities created the foundations of Ashkenazi Judaism as it is still practised today. It was one of the earliest Jewish settlements in Central Europe after Jewish migration from the Mediterranean world. It was a cradle of Ashkenazi civilization and the Maharam its most venerated scholar.

Jewish life in Worms became a template for Ashkenazi Jewish communal life, developing the legal customs (minhagim) around marriage, mourning, tzedakah and education that spread throughout Central and Eastern Europe. Even after the devastation of the Crusades and later expulsions, Worms endured in Jewish consciousness and culture. The last burial in the cemetery was in 1942. Miraculously, unlike many other Jewish cemeteries across Europe, this one survived the Shoah relatively intact.

The symbiosis – if that is the correct word – of Jewish and Christian life in Worms is embodied in the larger dichotomy of European Jewish life. From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral. Worms may be central in Ashkenazi tradition, but it also holds a profound place in Christian history.

photo - From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral — From the cemetery, the main edifice visible outside the grounds is the imposing Worms Cathedral. (photo by Pat Johnson)

Martin Luther, the 15th-century monk who sparked the Protestant Reformation and drove the most significant schism in Christianity, nailed his 95 theses to the cathedral door in Wittenburg, about 400 kilometres from Worms. Luther’s history intersected with Worms when he was tried at the unappetizingly titled Diet of Worms, in 1521, and found guilty by imperial authorities. Refusing to recant, he became one of history’s most consequential heretics – or spiritual pioneer and reformer, depending on one’s perspective.

To Jews, Luther is a despotic figure. After effectively inventing Protestant Christianity, Luther was solicitous to the Jews, hoping that the stiff-necked people who had rejected the doctrine of Jesus as purveyed by the Vatican would jump on board the rebranded Lutheran variety. When they overwhelmingly did not, Luther transformed into a ferocious antisemite, putting quill to papyrus in some of history’s most vile racist tirades.

From the perspective of this history, the cathedral dominating the sightlines of the Holy Sand can be viewed as a place where one of history’s greatest Jew-haters got his comeuppance. Of course, the Catholicism that the building still represents has its own problematic history, to frame it kindly. And, for that matter, Luther landed on his feet, historically speaking.

Visiting the cemetery is a moving experience – with a bizarre and almost laughable twist.

Unsurprisingly, there were two security personnel seated at a table outside the gate. I attempted to gather some information, but our lack of shared language prevented much conversation. They did motion toward a box of what I thought were face masks, but which turned out to be makeshift kippot. In fact, they were peaked paper caps, the sort that short order cooks at Denny’s might wear. It was an odd experience to be walking around an ancient cemetery looking like I just stepped out of Mel’s Diner.

We should use caution in making sweeping parallels across history, but it is striking how the enemies of the Jews across the centuries have recognized and exploited the importance of pidyon shvuyim, the redeeming of captives. How many other traditions, I wonder, have prayers in the liturgy for specifically this eventuality? A visit to the Holy Sand reminds us how deep that tradition of exploitation goes.

Unique, memorable travels

I know what my wife and I will do for at least part of our winter break – go through the latest edition of Robin Esrock’s The Great Canadian Bucket List: One-of-a-Kind Travel Experiences together and make plans. For when? I’m not sure. But plans. Wish lists.

Published by Dundurn Press, and released just last month, this is the third edition of Esrock’s popular book. I interviewed Esrock when the original book came out in 2013, and it has evolved substantially since then. Notably, as he points out in the introduction, this new list “casts an overdue lens on Indigenous tourism,” which he hopes will result in powerful and personal connections this country desperately needs.”

New experiences have been added and some revisions have been made. In tandem with the books, there has always been a website, canadianbucketlist.com, because, as Esrock writes, “Tourism is a constantly evolving industry. Tour operators, restaurants and hotels often change names or ownership, adapt their services or cease operations altogether. Records fall, facts shift and practical information needs to be constantly updated.”

The Great Canadian Bucket List is organized by province, west to east, then up to Yukon, the Northwest Territories and Nunavut. It wraps up with a national section, which has some “Canada’s best” lists, among other things. There are fabulous colour photos throughout. Esrock highlights four to 17 experiences in each chapter, with his home province of British Columbia having the most entries.

You will hear no complaints from me about this! During COVID, I saw more of British Columbia than I had in the previous 28 or so years of living here. What I love about Esrock’s bucket list choices is their range, from, for example, houseboating on Shuswap Lake, which I could see myself doing, to heli-skiing, which is a hard no, to visiting Haida Gwaii, which I hope to do next year, to things that I’ve done, like visit the Malahat Skywalk on Vancouver Island, and things that probably all of us have done, such as take a stroll along the Seawall.

The range is as varied for the rest of Canada: there are places I’ve been, things I’d never do, and things I’d jump at the chance to do.

Years ago, I visited Head-Smashed-in-Buffalo Jump in Alberta and found it fascinating, learning a lot about Indigenous hunting practices. According to Esrock, the “UNESCO World Heritage Site is the most signiﬁcant and best-preserved buffalo jump site on the continent.”

I’m “hometown” proud of Magnetic Hill in Moncton, NB, where I was born. I’ve rolled “up” the hill more than once and still get a kick out of the cheesiness of it all. As Esrock explains, it’s all an optical illusion, but it’s still magic to me.

I’ve had the privilege of wandering, and occasionally buying something, in every one of Esrock’s best urban markets in Canada: Granville Island here, St. Lawrence Market in Toronto, ByWard Market in Ottawa and the Forks in Winnipeg.

I’m not a big risk taker, so won’t be leaning off the top of the CN Tower in Toronto anytime soon, even with all the safety cords in the world, or scaling a frozen waterfall in Mont-Sainte-Anne, Que. And I will never jump off anything much higher than a curb.

That said, there are so many experiences that I would like to have. In the context of Esrock’s book, one of the top ones is cycling the Kettle Valley Railway, especially now that I’ve learned from Esrock that there’s a company that will provide the bikes, accommodation – and carry our bags! I’d like to check out the tunnels in Moose Jaw, Sask., which “were access corridors for steam engineers, then used as a safe haven for Chinese migrants fearing for their lives, and finally by bootleggers and gangsters.”

I would love to get to Churchill, Man., something I never managed to do when I lived in Winnipeg. Visiting L’Anse aux Meadows, in Newfoundland and Labrador, where there are the remains of a Norse settlement from 1000 CE, would be cool. Cruising the Northwest Passage would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience (hopefully). There are hikes and kayaking adventures that call to me….

But, for now, I will flip the pages of The Great Canadian Bucket List, contemplating all the possibilities. I’ll worry about what’s affordable, what’s doable physically and mentally, what’s possible time-wise, etc., later.

Family memoir a work of art

Karen Bermann’s The Art of Being a Stranger: A Family Memoir, published by New Jewish Press, an imprint of University of Toronto Press, is a work of art. It is moving in ways hard to describe. It might not capture every detail of her family’s history – in fact, wide swaths of that history are missing. What’s not missing, what is powerful, are the feelings this book evokes.

Bermann, who lives in Rome, is professor emerita of architecture at Iowa State University. Her father, Fritz, was born into an Orthodox Jewish family in Vienna. At 15 years old, he and his younger sister, Elsa, who was 10, fled Europe, alone, in the late 1930s. They were separated in Haifa, his sister being taken to an orphanage with the other children who were too young to work. Fritz, as lucky as one can be after losing one’s family and home, ended up with a Russian farming family who treated him well. Nonetheless, at 18, he left the farm and headed off to live on a kibbutz.

The way in which Bermann intertwines her father’s words with her own commentary and descriptions is so effective. For example, when Fritz tells her about getting in trouble, at 10 years old, for writing a story about building a bomb to blow up the school, Bermann writes, “‘Oh, Dad, that is really bad.’ Yes, that was a particularly bad one. ‘Were you always so angry?’ I was born angry. And scared. As was my father before me. ‘Even before the Nazis, you were so angry and scared?’ Well, yes. But the Nazis didn’t help.”

This dark sense of humour permeates The Art of Being a Stranger. Bermann doesn’t sentimentalize or sensationalize, she just tells us what her father tells her and sometimes shares her reactions. We also learn – and feel – what she went through as Fritz’s daughter. She writes succinctly, poetically, in both words and images.

From pre-state Israel, Fritz went to New York City, where he worked in building maintenance. After an incident with an antisemitic boss, he found work at a company, where, over 20 years, he rose up the ladder. “Somehow from being a peasant in Palestine I found myself a bigshot in the world of New York building maintenance,” he tells his daughter.

But New York never became, for him, a city of museums and operas, but remained one of crooks and bribes. Just like his Vienna wasn’t the city tourists visited to eat sachertorte and go skating, but rather was “a shtetl of poor religious Jews, a ghetto of ignorant bastards who beat their children for making noise on Shabbos, but who knew in their bones that they were not welcome, who recognized the stench of antisemitism in the street while others were perfuming their noses in the rose gardens.”

Fritz’s trauma, inherited from his ancestors, is passed on to his daughter in full force. Yet, Bermann, as a teenager, would defend her father against her friends’ calling him a Nazi, for instance. He was brutally abusive. She only talks about this in relation to herself, not others in the household. To survive, she built “a parallel structure to the one I live in my father’s house.”

“Fritz was ruthlessly (one of his favorite words) honest about the danger of hope. Hope was more than pointless, it was stupid, and led to suffering,” writes Bermann. “People disappointed by life were stupid people; they made him angry…. He taught us about the strength of character that hopelessness required.”

In addition to sharing some of her childhood experiences, Bermann shares some of her experiences working, at the age of 19, on the rehabilitation of one of the more than 1,000 abandoned buildings on the Lower East Side that she and a group took over from the city: “Ditched by landlords who couldn’t squeeze a profit out of a tenement in need of heat, in need of maintenance, a building that leaked from every weak pore.”

We meet other family members, we find out how Fritz’s story ends. From fragments of a life, we see how complex we humans are, how many contradictions we hold within us, how we can be that which we hate, how we can hurt who we love and how we can love the broken, how beauty exists, sometimes inextricably with the ugly. The stranger of the title is Fritz, it’s Bermann, it’s us. Yet, experiencing The Art of Being a Stranger made me feel more part of humanity, kind of like when we chant Ashamnu together as a congregation: we have abused, we have betrayed, we have been cruel…. None of us is perfect, none of us gets through life unscathed or without hurting others. Yet, we keep getting up in the morning and living. Until we don’t.

A little holiday romance

One of my guilty pleasures is Hallmark-style holiday movies. Fine, they’re Christmas movies mainly. But, whenever there is a Jewish character, plotline or, in rare instances, it’s a Hanukkah movie, I am even more a fan. Comfortable in their predictability, especially the happy ending, my body relaxes just thinking about the break from reality they offer. In the last few years, I’ve also read more than my share of Hallmark-style novels, and this is why I was excited to receive an email from Amelia Doyle, author of Two Weeks in Toronto, which was published last year but was just named a finalist in the romance category of the Canadian Book Club Awards. The winners will be announced in February.

Doyle, a Jewish author based in Dublin, Ireland, has written a few romance novels and has another on the way for next year. Two Weeks in Toronto would make a wonderful holiday movie – and a welcome gift for anyone who’s admitted to you that they like romance novels. There’s no will-they-or-won’t-they-fall-in-love here, just how they will, what obstacles they will have to overcome, what role their best friends or family members will play.

In Two Weeks in Toronto, our protagonists are Ciara and Ethan. They live in Dublin and know each other because Ethan is Ciara’s dentist – and Ciara is terrified of the dentist. Not of Ethan, but of the dentist as a larger concept, its root canals, teeth-cleanings, etc. Ethan does what he can to help Ciara overcome her fears. So, though the two have known each other awhile, it’s been a professional relationship, and they don’t know each other well.

This changes when Ciara’s sister’s wedding requires Ciara to return to her family in Toronto, which she really doesn’t want to do because of a brutally harsh mother and a very difficult sister, and Ethan must go home for the celebration of his parents’ 40th anniversary and of his brother’s engagement, which will be awkward, to say the least, because his brother’s fiancée is Ethan’s former girlfriend.

Ethan suggests to Ciara that he join her in Toronto for the wedding (and Hanukkah) and she join him in Galway over New Year’s – as “boyfriend” and “girlfriend,” so neither will have to face their situations alone. While Ethan is not Jewish, he ends up feeling quite at home with Ciara’s family. Turns out her father, who’s from Ireland, knows Ethan’s parents, and there are connections with other folks in Ciara’s realm. Ciara’s dad also makes sure Ethan knows what’s going on with the candlelightings and what Hanukkah is all about.

I had some trouble believing the sheer horridness of Ciara’s mother and sister, in part because her dad and brother are so friendly and caring, but also because I’m lucky enough not to have such nasty people in my family. I would have been more heavy-handed in the editing process, but, overall, Two Weeks in Toronto is a light, fun read. I’ll keep Doyle in mind when I’m looking for my next escape.