coronavirus – Page 2

Beth Israel hails Dr. Henry

Dr. Bonnie Henry will be honoured at Beth Israel’s gala event May 30. (photo from BI)

Dr. Bonnie Henry will be honoured at the 2021 Congregation Beth Israel gala May 30. The provincial health officer for British Columbia will be given the Keter Ha’bri’ut Award at the virtual celebration.

The term keter ha’bri’ut translates to Crown of Health, and the award has been created “to honour those in the community who have worked diligently, relentlessly and with humility for the betterment of their fellow citizens.”

“The truth is that we couldn’t think of anyone better than Bonnie Henry because, the fact is that she’s literally been a keter ha’bri’ut, a crown of health, for our province in helping to keep us healthy,” said Rabbi Jonathan Infeld, senior rabbi at Beth Israel. “She embodies one of the single most important concepts of Jewish tradition, spreading the word of chesed, of kindness. It’s not only that she cares about the physical health of our province, but I think one of the reasons that she has become famous across the country and the world is because she cares about the humanity of our province as well.”

When the synagogue’s gala committee asked Henry if she would be willing to be honoured by the gala and receive an award, about nine months ago, organizers hoped that the event might be in person or, at least, a hybrid event with some people present and others tuning in virtually.

Instead, the main portion of the event will feature words from Henry, Infeld and others, all virtually, with musical entertainment by Maya Rae. At certain ticket levels, food delivery is included and, for major donors, a pre-event will feature a mixology session, with cocktail kits delivered to the homes of virtual attendees. Henry will share a favourite cocktail recipe of her own.

Henry’s commitment to inclusion and her respect for Jewish traditions impressed Infeld from the moment Henry held her first group conference call with clergy from around the province, about the time the pandemic began.

“One of the things that really touched me,” he said, “was in her very first address to the clergy of British Columbia – I’m not talking about the rabbis, but for the clergy of British Columbia – many, many months ago, as we were entering into the COVID era, she said, we are going to have to have fewer faces and bigger spaces and one of the things that that means is we won’t be able to do in-person shivas for awhile.”

Infeld believes that Henry’s time as associate medical officer of health for Toronto Public Health during H1N1 and SARS outbreaks in that metropolis put her in close contact with the Jewish community there.

Henry’s work is serious, as is the award she will receive from Beth Israel, said the rabbi, but parts of the evening’s program will be lighthearted.

The gala is to be emceed by Dr. Isaac Elias, a young member of the synagogue and a medical doctor who helped guide the synagogue’s response to COVID from the beginning.

The event will be relatively short – about an hour – and partial proceeds will be donated to the B.C. Centre for Disease Control.

Infeld said, “It’s an opportunity for us as a community to say thank you to someone who has done so much for the province and for the residents of the province and embodies some of the most important messages of Jewish thought, being that of the importance of saving lives and of the importance of being kind to others.”

While the virtual gala will be an unusual event, Infeld stresses that the shul is no stranger to Zooming. Since the week the pandemic began, he said, the decision was made “to ramp up our programming, not ramp down.”

“We actually have more programming than we have ever had before,” he said. “In the early days of COVID, when everyone was literally shut in, we had teams of volunteers calling and assisting our seniors, we engaged all of our young adults and they were helping deliver food to seniors, helping them with whatever needs they had, technological, food and beyond.

“We also increased our programming. We never had a daily learning [before COVID]. Now, we have a daily mussar class. What used to be a monthly Lunch & Learn became the weekly Zoom & Learn and now is becoming the weekly evening program known as Prime Time BI. A Zoom Scholars series was funded in part by Harley Rothstein and Eleanor Boyle. One of the things that we’ve seen is participation rates in our services online and our online programs are up anywhere from 30 to 100%, and we’ve been able to maintain that.”

Presenting sponsor for the gala event is the Shay (Shy) Keil Group.

“I am thrilled to be the presenting sponsor for this event, both in support of the Beth Israel Congregation and also Dr. Bonnie Henry,” said Keil. “It is an honour to present this award to Dr. Henry for all that she has done during the pandemic, making extraordinarily difficult protocol decisions and becoming the public face of this pandemic. It is a thankless task that she has assumed since March 2020 and I am so happy that Beth Israel has decided to recognize her.”

For tickets to the event, visit bethisrael.ca.

Louis Brier campaign starts

(photo from thelouisbrierfoundation.com)

This spring saw the launch of the This Year Like No Other, This Year More Than Ever 2021-2022 Louis Brier Jewish Aged Foundation campaign, which is raising funds to enhance care and innovate the program and service offerings for residents of the Louis Brier Home and Hospital.

Early in 2020, the foundation stepped up to assist the Louis Brier leadership in its exemplary response to the COVID-19 pandemic. By doubling the home’s funding, the foundation was able to support the home in keeping its seniors safe and engaged during one of the most challenging years of their life.

The biennial campaign, which started April 19, will run to May 28. With the community’s help, the goal is to raise $2.4 million. Campaign chairs are Harry Lipetz (board president) and Lee Simpson (immediate past president).

The $2.4 million amount is needed to keep up with the home and hospital’s funding needs, which doubled with the onset of COVID-19. While the foundation is well aware of the many challenges of the present time, we believe this year, like no other, and more than ever, we must collectively come together to care for, and give a well-deserved kavod, to the people who built our community for us in the first place. To contribute and create impact where it’s most needed after the extraordinary challenges of the year 2020. To be part of ensuring that the physical, mental and spiritual needs of the home’s Jewish seniors are met.

Louis Brier’s background

In 1945, 14 friends known as the Hebrew Men’s Cultural Club shared a vision to create a home for Jewish seniors in Vancouver. That home, initially built to accommodate 13 residents, was established in 1946. Over time, that modest facility grew, changed locations and expanded its services, eventually becoming the Louis Brier Home and Hospital, which has progressed in step with Vancouver’s Jewish community.

Today, Louis Brier is part of a continuum of care known as the Snider Campus, which also includes the Weinberg Residence, a boutique assisted living and multi-level care residence adjacent to Louis Brier.

The Louis Brier Jewish Aged Foundation provides and distributes funds to the Snider Campus towards maintaining and fostering the well-being of the Jewish aged of British Columbia, while supporting the enhancement of their quality of life based on Jewish traditions.

Some quick facts

The Louis Brier is a 215-bed long-term residential care home serving Vancouver’s Jewish community.
The home and hospital provide three levels of residency (intermediate care, extended care and special care).
Thirty-five residents of the current population at Louis Brier are Holocaust survivors.
Eighty percent of Louis Brier Home and Hospital’s residents are diagnosed with varying levels of dementia.
The Louis Brier has 436 employees – 195 full-time, 101 part-time and 140 casual.
The home and hospital residents range in age from 50 to 103, with the average age being 84.
The Louis Brier is an accredited institution with exemplary standing (2018). The Accreditation Canada survey team spent four days at the facility and reviewed a total of 19 required organizational practices (ROPs), 216 high priority criteria and 295 other criteria, for a total of 551 criteria. The surveyors determined that Louis Brier successfully met 100% of the 551 criteria evaluated.
The Louis Brier was awarded the 2020 Canadian Non-profit Employer of Choice Award.
The Louis Brier is the only facility in British Columbia with a companion program and has the largest recreation team in Western Canada.
The Louis Brier had a single COVID case among residents.

To donate to the campaign, click here. For more information, call 604-261-5550.

– Courtesy Louis Brier Jewish Aged Foundation

Peer service reinvented

To say that COVID-19 has wreaked havoc on British Columbians would be an understatement. The virus has disrupted anything that we would call the normal activities of daily life. Most of us have had to make major compromises: where we go, what we do and how we can avoid getting the terrible virus. These adjustments have had a major impact on Jewish Seniors Alliance clients, who are already compromised by loneliness and isolation.

How we serve our clients and how we support our volunteers has undergone major changes – let’s give it the label “reinventing peer services.” In order to better understand what has taken place, I interviewed Charles Leibovitch, JSA senior peer support services coordinator, and Grace Hann, JSA trainer of volunteers of senior support services.

In the beginning

By mid-March 2020, the first sign of COVID-19 began to show its ugly head. The lockdown left clients and volunteers absolutely unprepared. Persons who were already isolated and lonely found themselves even more isolated and lonelier. As time progressed, clients were cut off from family members who might have supported their relatives through personal contact and social events. This was especially devastating for persons without family.

In many situations, volunteers were their primary contact; their lifeline! Being alone undermines one’s mental health. Being alone exaggerates one’s fear of COVID-19. Most of the clients were cut off from community programs, like adult day care. Spouses who usually spent time with their spouse in a long-term care facility were also cut off. Simple activities like going for a walk and sitting on a bench were curtailed. Elders had depended on having that human connection – having that human touch makes us feel needed and whole.

Volunteers meet challenge

The changing scene called for quick action, initiated by Grace and Charles. Instead of personal visits, the telephone would become the prime instrument of contact between volunteers and their clients. It was necessary to contact the volunteers quickly. Support for the volunteers would be provided by Zoom. This necessitated a steep learning curve for volunteer and client. After all, making and keeping the connection was critical. The three services – peer support, friendly visits and friendly phone calls – had to be reassessed in terms of the neediest clients. Each of the three services’ volunteers had different levels of training by Grace.

In some situations, a certified peer support volunteer was assigned to a person who ordinarily would have had contact with a friendly visitor or a friendly phone caller. Moving from in-person contact to impersonal contact was a major transition – almost like reinventing how support was to be provided. The JSA volunteers made the transition like veterans, with the extraordinary help of Grace and Charles. There was an increase in the contacts between volunteers and clients and an increase in Zoom online meetings to support the very special work being carried out by the volunteers.

Supporting the volunteers

Grace and Charles organized many activities, including outdoor picnics, weekly webinar seminars, a Chanukah party with a singalong and group support meetings every three weeks. The spirit and esprit de corps by the volunteers has been amazing. Volunteers will send cards to their clients as an additional way to keep in contact. Who doesn’t like to receive mail?

Next steps

Challenging times require challenging solutions. Charles and Grace rose to the challenge and proved that, with dedication, imagination and determination, obstacles can be overcome. When the COVID-19 vaccine has been fully distributed, we will establish a “new normal.” This will present JSA, Grace, Charles and the volunteers with a new set of issues and situations. And, as the song goes, “we shall overcome” – they will face these challenges with creativity, empathy and caring.

Ken Levitt is a past president of Jewish Seniors Alliance, former chief executive officer of Louis Brier Home and Hospital, and a past chair of Camp Miriam. In 1985, he co-edited The Challenge of Child Welfare, the first textbook on child welfare in Canada. A version of this article originally appeared in the March 2021 issue of Senior Line.

Making a film during COVID

Kamil Whaley-Kalaora stars as the title character in Malka Martz-Oberlander’s David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah. (screenshot)

It was a rainy day near the beginning of the pandemic. Sourdough was in the oven, Zoom was new and fun and spirits were higher. That’s when I found out I’d won the Earl Parker Award and I’d get to make my film for the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival. Little did I know I would have to go through months of hurdles, Plan B ideas and cast my entire family to get my film made.

A few months prior, my mom had passed me the Jewish Independent and showed me the notice for a film award at the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival. At the time, I was co-directing a musical, directing a film and finishing my applications for universities, so I didn’t think much of it. But, I am very glad I eventually picked up that notice and applied to the competition because it changed the course of my path.

image - The Community Calendar announcement in the Jewish Independent about the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival’s Earl Parker Award — The Community Calendar announcement in the Jewish Independent about the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival’s Earl Parker Award.

Last year was tough in a thousand ways. The pandemic hit everyone differently and, no doubt, we will all have lifelong effects because of it. When I originally pitched my film, David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah, in 2020, I had a vision that could only have been actualized pre-pandemic. I adapted it and changed things to meet the constraints of the circumstances and I truly did my best to pull it off in a safe way for the entire cast and crew. One of the changes I had to make was to cast solely from within my bubble and community, which was not what I had originally planned to do.

screenshot - Malka Martz-Oberlander — Malka Martz-Oberlander *(screenshot)*

I normally cast my films through Vancouver Actor’s Guide, UBC ACTRA and Facebook film & TV pages, but, instead, I ended up casting my parents as two of the main characters. As much as they are incredibly charismatic and intelligent people, they’re both doctors, not actors the stature of a Leonardo DiCaprio. So, performing was a big challenge for them and, vice versa, for me directing them. That being said, it was a fantastic experience for me to learn how to produce a film under circumstances that many filmmakers haven’t had to face.

In the early stages, I had a few moments when I felt selfish and embarrassed to want to make films during a literal plague. How could I have the chutzpah to be making dumb little comedy films while millions of people have died and more are dying? Why should I worry if my lenses are going to work for a scene while people are saying goodbye to their loved ones on iPads?

But then it dawned on me just how much we rely on art and story for our own sanity. We tell our children stories from the moment they are born, and we offer and receive stories to our last day on earth. We humans are, at our core, storytelling creatures. In moments of darkness we turn, time and time again, to art to save us. We are drawn to an astonishing multitude of fictions – on pages, on stages and on screens; stories of murder, love, war, conspiracies; stories fictional and true.

We are obsessed with story, but our obsession runs deeper than we think. We can walk away from our books and our screens, but story is like gravity: an inescapable force field that influences everything, but is so omnipresent that we hardly notice it. We’re social creatures and, with the added challenge of isolation, art has become a tool for staying connected with one another.

I’m now finishing up my first year at film school, in Capilano University’s Motion Picture Arts Program, where I have been learning invaluable skills and refining my knowledge and abilities in writing, directing and producing. With the vaccination rollout well underway and more knowledge and experience of how to safely work together in-person, I am ready to see what’s next for film and storytelling. I hope you are, too.

My film David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah screened at the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival on May 2 and I will be speaking on a panel of past Earl Parker Award winners on May 9, 11 a.m., on Zoom (meeting ID 846 7697 0846). To view the film, visit jewishedmonton.org/festival-news; after the festival, it will be publicly available on Vimeo.

Malka Martz-Oberlander is a 19-year-old screenwriter, film and theatre director and actress, currently “squatting” at her parents’ house in Vancouver, the unceded territories of the Squamish, Tsleil-Waututh and Musqueam peoples. Her website is malkamo.wixsite.com/film. She thanks the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival and the Earl Parker Award for their kindness and generosity in making David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah possible during such an unpredictable time for artists.

The magic behind kaytana

While Camp Miriam won’t be able to offer overnight camping sessions, it will once again be offering day camp experiences this summer. (photo from Camp Miriam)

I will never forget waking up in a puddle in the middle of the night, feeling water slowly dripping into my sleeping bag as I shivered and clenched my muscles, trying to maintain the tiniest shred of heat.

It was 2011, I was 14, and my kvutza (cabin group) was on a three-day hike that would take us through steep inclines and 30 kilometres of terrain. It poured every day and night, leaving us without a dry item of clothing by the first morning. We were wet, cold, blistered and exhausted. It was a miserable trip.

And we loved it.

On the final day, we emerged from the forest chanting a marching song and smiling with glee at what we had accomplished. To this day, I reminisce about this trip with that same giddy excitement.

And yet, I’ve always wondered, what allowed us to not only persevere, but to create a lifelong positive memory. Anyone who has spent time at Machaneh Miriam – the overnight Jewish summer camp on Gabriola Island – can attest to the magic each new summer conjures. The thing about magic is that we may not know how it works, but we know what it does. It’s what drove us forward, step by step through the mud with smiles and songs that summer. Everywhere you go at Miriam, you can feel the magic – from the building walls decorated with generations of camper art and poetry, to the dining hall filled with chanting and singing voices every lunch.

It’s the same magic that, last summer, propelled Miriam’s youth leadership to accomplish the seemingly impossible.

When the pandemic hit, these young leaders were several months into planning a six-week overnight summer camp on Gabriola. Not only did the pandemic erase months of hard work and preparation, it also posed a serious question: could camp’s magic exist outside of the island?

To most campers and staff, Miriam and Gabriola are inseparable. As the rosh (camp director), Marina Levy, said, “At Camp Miriam, we are connected to our community, to Gabriola and to our traditions.”

Envisioning a summer away from Gabriola was a daunting task. But, the tzevet (staff) rose to the occasion, creating not one, but three kaytanot (day camps) – one each in Vancouver, Victoria and Portland. By summer’s end, more than 200 campers, 60 staff and a whole bunch of parents resoundingly affirmed that camp’s magic can exist off of Gabriola.

To understand the importance of the kaytana, it is necessary to consider the context. At a time when campers had been confined to their homes and separated from their friends for months, the news that overnight camp was not happening came as a severe blow.

The immediate effect of the pandemic on kids’ mental health was profound. Research by SickKids hospital in Toronto showed that, in just the first three months of the lockdown, a majority of children showed a serious deterioration in their mental health.

According to Camp Miriam parents, the kaytana helped their kids overcome some of that stress. One parent said, “Last June, our daughter was really struggling with the impact of COVID on her life, it was significant. Camp Miriam’s summer camp in Vancouver brought her back to herself again. A combination of the social component, the programming and empowerment she felt, and the sense of purpose in her life helped her rediscover herself and revive herself.”

Another parent observed a change in her son after just one day. “I almost cried hearing him talk about it,” she said. “I think it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say it was a transformative experience.”

Counselor Rakeea Gordis said that, during the weekly Shabbat tradition where campers sit together and reflect on their week, “At least one, but usually up to five kids would say that they were devastated that today, Friday, was the last day of the kaytana for the week.”

So, how did the staff manifest the magic of overnight camp in day camps far from the quiet comfort of Gabriola? A huge amount of credit goes to the youth leadership who worked long days and then late into the night throughout the summer creating kishutim (decorations) for special days, planning peulot (educational activities) and even burying items for a treasure hunt the following day.

Financially, none of this would have been possible without the support of the camp’s community and the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, who stepped up at a time of extreme need, as well as the Grinspoon Foundation and the Heller Memorial Fund, who provided matching grants. It cost nearly three times as much to run the kaytana as to run the overnight camp.

So, perhaps, camp’s magic is not a complete mystery after all. As technical director Inbar Avrahami Saraf said, “[The kaytana] was an experiment, a proof of concept of the magic of machaneh, and how the magic is not in the physical space but in the chanichm [campers] and the tzevet and just the community that makes it so incredible.”

So, credit must be given to the force of will that the youth leaders and the wider Jewish community bring – the relentless push to build and dream; to create community and unforgettable experiences, whether they be on Gabriola Island, on a three-day hike in the pouring rain or in the midst of a pandemic.

“The magic of machaneh doesn’t just exist far away on an island, it exists where we choose to create it,” said Levy.

Unfortunately, once again Camp Miriam has had to cancel its overnight camp due to COVID-19, but, once again, the young staff are ready to create amazing kaytana experiences. To register for Miriam’s 2021 summer programs or to support the camp as it faces another challenging season, go to campmiriam.org.

Sasa Popovich is a writer and former Camp Miriam camper, counselor and technical director.

Holy jab a moving experience

We’re celebrating at our house. I’ve gotten my first AstraZeneca vaccination “jab.” I’ve got a sore arm and felt droopy afterwards, but I’m thrilled to have finally gotten access.

As a pragmatic, 40-something Gen X-er, I had to wait my turn. Then I rushed to get an appointment. In the Manitoba social media world, we heard others complain that the system was difficult to navigate. The deadpan reply from our cohort was something like, “Guess you’ve never had to get up early to try to register your kids for swim lessons.” In a place where resources like, say, vaccination or indoor pool swim lesson spots, are very limited, we’ve learned to negotiate systems that were not designed for our needs or to be welcoming.

This big event for 40-somethings in several Canadian provinces happened to coincide with the Torah portion of Acharei Mot-Kedoshim, Leviticus 16:1-20:27. This big double parashah (portion) covers a lot, including what it means to be holy. In some cases, it might mean “to be prepared.”

It’s also the portion that encourages us to “Love your neighbour as yourself” and Leviticus 19:34 reads, “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I the Lord am your God.”

The Torah is, sort of, a holiness how-to guide of its time, and some of the issues may no longer be everyday things for many. However, the pandemic forces us to be prepared for simple things like wearing a mask during a shopping outing. Add in more complex things, like obtaining access to that coveted vaccination, too. It’s interesting that the weekly parashah topics like preparation, holiness, loving neighbours and caring for strangers all came up at once.

The nurse who gave me my jab had worked in the COVID wards. She exuded calm as she went through her vaccine script. She made the moment feel monumental and holy while preparing me. When I thanked her, she said how great it was to be part of this effort to keep so many others healthy and safe after experiencing the suffering in the hospitals.

As I sat in the doctor’s waiting room for my 15 minutes after the jab, I thought about this. Masking up, getting vaccinated and social distancing are all ways that we show love for one another right now. Those actions are so powerful that I’m affronted and sad whenever someone demonstrates as an anti-masker, doesn’t wear a mask or even spits in public. Indeed, that means he doesn’t love his neighbour enough.

While I waited, it was a quiet. Yo-Yo Ma wasn’t serenading others on his cello in the clinic or anything like that. Instead, I turned and congratulated a stranger, a man who had also just gotten his shot. It was an oddly affirming moment. He had a spouse with an immune condition. Like me, he had kids learning at home. At first glance, I might have felt apprehensive chatting – he was heavily inked with tattoos and intimidating. Still, the love we both felt towards the universe for this opportunity and to those who also cared so much that we’d rushed to get vaccinated, was tender and transformative.

While I’d been able to get my shot, alas, Manitoba, and other parts of Canada seem to be quickly losing their battle to outrun the third wave. Vaccines can’t get into arms fast enough. Yet, as I read the news, there are also multiple reports of moments where people are taking care of strangers. In North Dakota, there’s now a pop-up Moderna vaccination site at a rest stop. They managed to vaccinate 62 truck drivers from Manitoba the first day. This was such a gift to our province, which hasn’t chosen to prioritize these essential workers.

In Montana, the Blackfeet Nation has invited Albertans to cross the border (with permission) to get vaccinated on their reservation. They were able to use up expiring vaccines on both strangers and Indigenous relatives who lived across the international border.

Many Jewish people have reported on social media that they recited the Shehecheyanu or the slightly more complicated “bathroom prayer,” which thanks G-d for the miraculous workings of our bodies. I uttered a silent prayer of my own, too.

It was also a chance to appreciate the kindness of strangers who looked after me. The doctor stuck his head in to ask if I had any questions. The nurse and I had a deep conversation – about illness, death, birth and our struggles as parents – in our few minutes together before and after the vaccine. Like so many who’ve been mostly social distancing and staying at home, these nurturing interactions have been few and far between this year.

I must admit, when we stream services on Shabbat at home, I’m not standing up much. I’m not on my tiptoes as we would in synagogue when we sing the Kedusha – the part where we say, “Holy, Holy,” and try to ease ourselves up closer to heaven and to the angels. Preparing oneself and trying to be holy is, for all of us, a process, but I felt just a little more prepared after what I experienced this week.

If you’re anxious about needles, don’t worry. My kids looked at my arm and I don’t have a “hole” there!

I feel like my vaccination experience captured a snapshot of how we can all strive to be more prepared. It’s an opportunity to love our neighbours, care for the stranger and, maybe, in the process, become a bit closer to heaven and more holy.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba 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.

Where I’ve been this year

After listening to Dr. Betsy Stone during a community workshop called A Year of Upheaval: What has Trauma Done to our Bodies and our Brains?, I decided to take her advice and tell my story. According to Stone, “Healing requires storytelling … we tell our stories so we’ll understand our experience differently.”

The past 15 months have been a journey for all of us. Some more than others, but no one has not “traveled” during the pandemic. And, by travel, I mean change. Whether we’re brave enough (honest enough?) to admit it or not, we have all been transformed. Call it trauma, call it what you like. It’s all a matter of semantics. Not everyone is as vocal as I am, or as filled with anxiety about COVID, but no one comes out of this horrible shindig unscathed.

Whether your resilience lies in emotional strength or a feeling of invincibility, or whether you’re firmly entrenched in that big river in Egypt (denial), we all cope in our own ways. There is no one right way through this. You can’t go over it, you can’t go under it – you can only go through it. Putting our experience into words brings new life to it, new insights. Speaking it makes it even more real and, maybe, just maybe, easier to cope with.

So, where have I been this year? I wish I could answer that with geographic precision. What comes to mind is: home. And, occasionally, the pharmacy and grocery store, as well as walks close to home. While I hate to say that the pandemic has been my world, it’s hard to escape the reality of that pronouncement. I fully admit my obsession with the pandemic, my fear and my single-minded focus on how to stay healthy. I won’t apologize for it, or feel less-than. It is what it is.

That doesn’t mean to say that my fear has prevented me from seeing silver linings during this unparalleled time. There has definitely been more than one “there-must-be-a-pony” moment. The most important one being that my nephew and his wife had a baby boy near the start of the pandemic. It doesn’t get any better than that. In random order after that, I have thrown myself into the deep end of the pool with Torah classes and other religious learning. Next on my list is that I started on a life-changing medical treatment that makes my life much easier. I have made new friends and acquaintances through the numerous Zoom classes I attend nearly every day. I am exercising 100% more than I did pre-pandemic. I might sleep less, but my brain has expanded. In the good way. And that’s just the beginning.

All this is by way of saying that, while I wouldn’t award COVID first place in a popularity contest, it has had its bright spots. It has impacted my perspective on all things, in a way that nothing else has, to that degree. When I think about what’s important now, my pre-COVID list is almost laughable. I, like many others, have embraced the basics: health and safety, family, faith and trust.

When I think of the trajectory of this past 15 months, it’s hard to articulate. Or, more to the point, what our reactions have been. Have I learned to be more trusting, or more suspicious? Have I expanded my capacity for compassion, or have I become more selfish? Have I anchored my experiences in religious belief, or have I trusted in science? Have I given in to my fears, or have I conquered them? While I’ve always tended to lean towards the black and white, there really are no absolutes right now. There are, however, firm yeses and hard no’s. I am reconsidering everything I once was certain about. The $64,000 question is whether I will be able to integrate what I’ve learned and turn it into something positive when all this is over. Or, better yet, before all this is over. The jury is still out. But I’m hopeful.

I have become exponentially more grateful for the simple things: my devoted husband who is my perfect companion in life; that I have a loving and lovely family; that I have never had to worry about where my next meal will come from; that I live in a part of the world that has great doctors, easy access to medical care and all the outdoor green spaces you could ever ask for; and that I have mentors and friends. I could go on ad infinitum.

Too often, I see the clouds instead of the blue sky that’s right behind it. I see impediments where there don’t have to be any. Positivity is a steep learning curve for me. It’s funny that I used to consider myself an optimist. Since the pandemic, I’ve come to see how maybe-not-true that is. Not that I’m proud of it, it’s just the current reality. But I’m trying pointedly to turn that around. There are days where I see hope staring me in the face everywhere. Literally everywhere. Other days, it’s just fog and darkness. I know I’m hardly unique in this.

So, in truth, I have been lots of places this year. Mostly in my head. But some real places, too. Like a certain street in Shaughnessy that’s filled with huge trees, beautiful homes and no people walking about. A place where it’s safe for me to take off my face mask for a block or two. Until I see someone. I have also been to a place of sheer, unnamable joy, seeing my tiny great-nephew on WhatsApp video. I have discovered flowers I never knew existed, in areas I’d never walked before (despite being a native Vancouverite). I have traveled via Zoom to other countries, for learning and sometimes for pleasure. But pleasures that don’t involve a beach or a buffet. And I travel constantly in my dreams.

Every day of this pandemic, I have learned something. About myself, about others, about faith. That’s got to count for something, right? When we all heal from what Stone calls this “trauma,” we’re definitely going to come out of it changed. Whether that change is positive or negative, or a combination of both, is up to us entirely. My commitment to myself is that I’m going to try and lay the groundwork for an improved Shelley. A less anxious, more trusting, deliberately positive Shelley.

I guarantee you’ll still recognize me, though. I’ll be the one still wearing a facemask a year from now. Or maybe not.

Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

COVID and other challenges

Dr. Judith Moskowitz (photo from Judith Moskowitz)

Anxiety and stress can be debilitating even in the most normal of times, but, with COVID-19 and all that it encompasses, we have all been presented with a whole other level of challenges.

In this context, the Jewish Independent connected with Dr. Judith Moskowitz, a professor of medical social sciences at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, in Chicago. She is also the director of research for Northwestern’s Osher Centre for Integrative Medicine. Trained as a social psychologist, with expertise in stress and coping with emotions, Moskowitz started her career in the early 1990s, helping men caring for their partners suffering from AIDS.

“Before there were more effective treatments available, it was essentially a terminal illness,” she said. “Caring for a loved one with AIDS was really one of the most stressful events a human could experience.”

Initially, she said, “We’d ask them, ‘What is stressful about this?’ Then, we’d help them cope with it, really focusing in on the negative part the whole experience and, shortly after the start of the study, the participants started saying, ‘You’re not asking us about the good things in our lives’ … which surprised us, because we’re coming at it from a very much stress and coping way.

“So, we listened to them and started then asking, ‘OK, tell us something positive that happened in the last week.’ And, almost in every single interview, even if their partner had just died, they could talk about something positive … often something small … having to do with something else going on in their lives not necessarily directly related to their care-giving.”

This new perspective helped direct Moskowitz onto a path looking at the positive things within stressful life events, allowing positive emotions to be expressed along with the negative.

“This isn’t about pretending things aren’t happening,” she stressed. “Rather, it’s about knowing that, even when times are really dark and you may be experiencing a lot of negative emotions and a lot of stress – maybe even depression or anxiety – you also have the ability to experience positive emotions as well. So, if you can experience the positive alongside those negative emotions, you’ll be able to cope better.”

Moskowitz and her team put together a program that includes eight to 10 skills, depending on the target group, toward helping participants increase their daily experience of positive emotions – stopping to notice, savour and capitalize on those good aspects.

“When things are stressful, it can be hard to see the positive things going on,” said Moskowitz. “We help people realize there’s usually something positive happening … you just have to be able to notice it.

“Things might be really horrific, but your dog is sitting next to you, really loves you, and it’s very sweet. So, just taking a moment and petting your dog, and then maybe telling someone about it – that would be noticing something positive in your life and savouring or capitalizing on it,” she explained. “We’ve been able to show that people who learn these skills and then practise them have better emotional well-being. They’re less likely to be depressed. In some samples, we were seeing some physical health effects. So, through clinical trials, we showed that the program seems to be helpful.”

When COVID first hit, Moskowitz was inundated with questions about how to cope better with stresses associated with the pandemic. The bottom line is that these skills transcend any particular stressor and can help no matter what the situation.

“For COVID, my advice is the same as it is for coping with breast cancer, diabetes, depression, or being a high school student,” said Moskowitz. “Learn these skills, try them out, see which work for you and, then, keep doing them. It’s like a physical activity, something you need to keep on doing. You can’t just do it once … similar to gratitude, noticing the good things, being thankful … it doesn’t work for you to just be grateful once and then be done with it. You need to take it up as a habit, and that can help you cope with COVID-19 or adapt with whatever kind of life stress you’re facing.”

Moskowitz also teaches the importance of doing acts of kindness. The idea is that, when you do something nice for someone else, it helps you feel better, too. Such an act can be as simple as paying for the coffee of the person in line behind you. Or looking someone in the eye and thanking them, making them feel appreciated and seen. And there are many types of acts that can be done without the receiver knowing the kindness came from you, if you’d rather remain anonymous.

“Doing these acts helps you feel better in a situation where you might think, I’m suffering here, I’m having a really hard time … but, knowing you can do something to help someone else can help your own well-being,” said Moskowitz.

Another skill she pointed to is “positive reappraisal.” When something stressful happens, take a moment to reframe it or think about it in a way that makes it seem not so bad or even like it’s positive thing – find the good in it.

“Sometimes, it takes the form of actually learning something about yourself – like you find that you are stronger than you’d thought you were,” said Moskowitz. “My favourite positive reappraisal is, ‘Well, that could have been worse! It’s bad, but it could have been worse.’

“An extreme example of this happened when we were doing some work with a gun-violence prevention group here in Chicago, teaching them these skills. They work with young men who are at high risk of either being victims or perpetrators of gun violence. The people they work with often are involved in a shooting. [The group members] will talk about it and will say, ‘One of our clients was shot and is in the hospital, but he’s alive.’ Having one of your clients shot is pretty bad and very stressful, but they’re able to say, ‘You know what? It could have been worse. He could have died, but he’s still alive.’ So, that’s a very vivid example of positive reappraisal.”

Moskowitz stressed that there is no one technique that works better than all others. She said, with regard to various anxiety- and stress-reducing methods, it is very much a matter of what fits best for each individual in a particular circumstance.

For more information visit moskowitzlab.com.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

חופשות מקומיות

הביקור בטופינו התפרש על פני לילה אחד

בפעמיים האחרונות כתבתי ארוכות על הטיול הטוב שעשיתי לוויקטוריה הבירה של מחוז בריטיש קולומביה. זאת בעידן הקוביד כאשר אי אפשר לטוס יותר לאירופה שאני אוהב אלה “רק” לטייל במחוז היפה שלנו.

לאחרונה הספקתי לבקר בשני מקומות בבריטיש קולומביה לראשונה מאז עברתי לקנדה לפני למעלה משש עשרה שנה. הראשון שלא היה מעניין במיוחד – היה לעיירה טופינו בקצה הרחוק (המערבי) של האי ונקובר והשני שהיה מאוד מעניין – היה העיר קולונה בעמק אוקנגן.

לטופינו טסתי במטוס הים שנוחת במים כך שפגשתי מעט נוסעים בטרמינלים הקטנים של ונקובר ושל טופינו. הטיסה לטופינו נמשכה שישים וחמש דקות ובמטוס הקטן מלבד הטייס היו עוד שתי נוסעות. הנוף מהמטוס שטס בגובה נמוך מרשים ביותר. תחילה רואים את פארק סנטלי ולאחר מכן את מי האוקיאנוס השקט השקטים בדרך לאי ונקובר. גם חציית האי מהצד המזרחי למערבי כדי להגיע לטופינו יפה ביותר.

טופינו היא עיירה קטנה שמונה בסך הכול כאלפיים תושבים. מרבית התיירים באים אליה כדי לגלוש בגלים הגבוהים של האוקיאנוס או לעשות ספורט אתגרי אחר. וכן לטייל ביערות הגשם ובסביבה.

בגלל מגפת הקוביד האיים של האינדיאנים שסמוכים לטופינו היו סגורים למטיילים ולכן נאצלתי להסתפק בטופינו הקטנה בלבד. בתור תייר שמחפש תרבות לא מצאתי הרבה לעצמי בטופינו. לאחר הנחיתה הלכתי ברגל בערך כרבע שעה למלון מאק הממוקם ברחוב הראשון בסמוך למים. המלון היה נחמד ונקי אך בגלל המגפה הקפטריה שלו הייתה סגורה ולכן אכלתי במסעדות בחוץ.

הביקור בטופינו התפרש על פני לילה אחד בלבד וטוב שכך מבחינתי כי לא מצאתי עניין בעיירה הקטנה והנידחת הזו. ירדתי לחוף הים הפראי וטיילתי להנאתי. לאחר מכן הסתובבתי במרכז העיירה הקטן ומצאתי קפה נחמד לאחר הצהריים. בחיפושי הנואשים אחר תרבות מצאתי את הגלריה של רועי הנרי ויקרס. מדובר באמן אינדיאני (בן שבעים וחמש כיום) שזכה להכרה ברחבי העולם ואף קיבל פרסים רבים. רכשתי ספר שמכיל את היצירות שלו אותו הבאתי כמתנה לבת זוגתי בוונקובר. לאחר הביקור בגלריה המעניינת חיפשתי מקום לארוחת ערב. מתברר שבערב בטופינו ישנן ארבע מסעדות פתוחות וחוץ מזה כל העיירה סגורה. לאחר הארוחה הסתובבתי קצת באזור ומצאתי שתושבי העיירה הולכים לישון מוקדם מאוד. אחרי שמונה בערב הכול חשוך וסגור.

למחרת בשעות הצהריים המוקדמות הייתי אמור לטוס בחזרה לוונקובר במטוס הימי אך בגלל הערפל הכבד הטיסה בוטלה לצערי. כיוון שבקו טופינו ונקובר יש רק טיסה יומית אחת של המטוס הימי הבנתי שלא אוכל באותו יום לעשות את הדרך חזרה עמו כאמור בגלל הערפל. בנוסף הייתה טיסה אחת בלבד של מטוס רגיל (מופעל על ידי חברת פיסיפיק קוסטל) אך היא כבר יצאה לכיוון ונקובר. לכן לא הייתה לי בררה אלה לחפש אוטובוס הביתה.

למזלי ברגע האחרון מצאתי אוטובוס בקו טופינו אל העיר נאיימו שבמזרח האי ונקובר. היה זה אוטובוס קטן והנסיעה נמשכה כארבע עשות תמימות. באמצע נאלצנו לעצור לחצי שעה כיוון שתיקנו את הכביש בין טופינו לננאיימו. לאחר מכן עצרנו למספר דקות לשתייה ושירותים בפורט אלברני ומשם הגענו במהירות יחסית לננאיימו. המעבורת עדיין לא עזבה את המעגן בנניאמו, כך שיכולתי לעלות עליה ולשוט בנוחות לעבר ווסט ונקובר. משם מצאתי אוטובוס מהיר לדאון טאון ונקובר והגעתי סוף סוף הביתה. אם כן הדרך חזרה נמשכה שעות מרובות עד שהגענו לוונקובר.

Model of resilience

As we have reveled in the summer-like weather of this extraordinary spring, we face, on the one hand, a looming overload of our health system as COVID variants lead to an especially worrisome wave, while, on the other hand, we enjoy a sense of huge optimism every time we see another friend’s vaccination selfie. There is a race between the spread of the virus and the distribution of the vaccine.

There will be time to reflect on the responses of governments around the world, but, for now, we thank again the medical professionals and other frontline workers, which in the circumstances includes retail and restaurant workers and anyone whose position puts them in front of the public so that the rest of us can live with comparative ease.

We are now in the second round of annual events held virtually. We have celebrated Passover with online seders two years in a row and likewise have marked simchas and solemn occasions through our devices. This is becoming something close to routine.

The past couple of weeks have been especially packed with virtual community events. It is remarkable how meaningful and moving ceremonies like Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) and Yom Hazikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day) can be even when mediated through technology. Joyous occasions like Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day) were different but delightful.

On Sunday, Jewish Family Services held a virtual grand opening and tour of their new food hub, dubbed the Kitchen, a centre for sustainable food, education and community-building around this most central of human necessities. (See story next issue.)

What was inspiring about the JFS event, in addition to the project itself, is the resolve and optimism demonstrated by the very act of launching the facility in the midst of a pandemic. It is a bit of wonderful audacity, or chutzpah, to start a new initiative like the Kitchen and to see it through to a physical opening, despite the challenges thrown at the organization by COVID.

Of course, there are countless similar examples, in our community and others, of people doggedly pursuing great causes in the face of the crisis we are in. There is the small miracle that this pandemic hit us at a time when we have the technology to see and talk to people worldwide in real time. But the technology is only as good as the people operating it. On a dime, schools, synagogues, arts and cultural institutions, education and advocacy agencies, as well as families, adapted as best they could under sometimes nearly impossible circumstances. The quality of so many of these efforts has been remarkable.

What makes things like the Kitchen so significant is that it was not an existing program that went virtual, but a fresh concept in community well-being that was envisioned and created. Sunday’s Chanukat Habayit was the culmination of that foundational work and the beginning of what should be decades of programs and services.

If there were a model of behaviour to inspire clients of Jewish Family Services, and all of us, that demonstration of resilience and determination in times of difficulty is an ideal one.