history – Page 11

Hanukkah as a messy middle

Hanukkah reminds us that miracles are possible and that seemingly unwinnable wars can be won. But it also holds lessons about partial victories, imperfect heroes and incomplete belonging.

We tell the story of Hanukkah, in our liturgy and in our songs and in the rituals we use to celebrate the holiday, as the decisive end of a frightening conflict: the good guys win, the bad guys lose, and the Temple is rededicated with Divine imprimatur.

But that is not the full picture of how Hanukkah was experienced in its day: alongside the joy and triumph, there was loss, uncertainty and ongoing strife. This reality of Hanukkah as the messy middle holds lessons of perseverance for us today as we celebrate the holiday while the state of Israel fights a war that could last a long time, and whose outcome is unknown.

Leading up to the victory of Hanukkah, Jews fought one another, heroes died and families mourned, and, as the martyrdom narrative of Hannah and her seven sons describes, civilians made profound sacrifices. It is easy to envision the experiences of people waiting for loved ones to return, of everyday acts of survival and kindness, of the fear experienced by individuals, families and communities. Even the victory of Hanukkah must have been tinged with deep loss.

What’s more, the Hanukkah victory did not end the war between the Seleucid-Greeks and the Maccabees: military campaigns continued for years thereafter. Statecraft was employed as alliances were made and broken; communities dedicated monuments to their fallen heroes, and even the great Judah the Maccabee died in battle. In short, Hanukkah did not decisively conclude the saga. Rather, it marked a crucial milestone amid continued sacrifice and uncertainty about the future. And yet, the Jewish leadership established the holiday to hail a crucial milestone.

image - “The Story of Hanukkah,” by Ori Sherman, 1985 — “The Story of Hanukkah,” by Ori Sherman, 1985. *(from thecollector.com)*

The Book of Maccabees describes a Jewish civil war in relation to Hanukkah. But that does not fully characterize the story of the Judean state that emerged after the war. True, that state (164 – 63 BCE) was rife with intra-Jewish bickering and general divisiveness, whether political, social or religious. However, the majority of Jews in the second and first century BCE did not belong to any sect.

Moreover, Jews who lived in vibrant communities outside of the land of Israel still viewed themselves as the close kin of Jews who lived in the land of Israel: identifying themselves as Jewish by observing Shabbat and the holidays, circumcising their baby boys, keeping dietary laws, and gathering regularly in synagogues to read and interpret their scriptural traditions. What bound all these Jews together was more powerful than what divided them.

The character of Hanukkah as we observe it was most explicitly shaped by a rabbinic establishment living hundreds of years after the Hasmonean period. And though the original Hasmoneans (the Maccabees) were the heroes of Hanukkah, these later rabbis viewed them as flawed. After all, the priestly Hasmoneans took over the throne, combining the priestly and monarchic functions in a way that denied the Davidic dynasty and compromised the separation of religious and political powers. Nonetheless, the courage of the Maccabees continues to inspire the collective Jewish imagination. This conveys the complicated truth that there are no perfect heroes. The people who stand up, and who are willing to take risks and make sacrifices, become the instruments of salvation – regardless of whether the people in their time, or the later sages, agree with all that they stand for.

These three lessons of the Hanukkah story should inform our celebration this year, at the same time as the realities of the war in Israel.

First, let’s appreciate partial redemptions. This includes the reunions that have happened of hostages with their families and the progress made by the Israel Defence Forces in eradicating Hamas. Acknowledging partial victories becomes a source of gratitude, and it equips us with resilience as we forge ahead, despite uncertainty and difficulty.

Second, let’s take seriously the gains we have made in our commitment to Jewish peoplehood. Oct. 7 has drawn the majority of Jews together, despite significant differences among us. We must try to sustain this sense of Jewish peoplehood without imagining that our disagreements will disappear.

And third, let’s accept the current need and ability to work even with flawed leadership. Many who spent the year before Oct. 7 protesting Israel’s current administration have chosen to prioritize the war effort, to focus on defeating Hamas and bringing our hostages home.

As we continue to navigate the messy middle of today’s conflict, may the more complex aspects of Hanukkah and its aftermath inspire within us the hope and faith we need to persevere as a people.

Dr. Elana Stein Hain is rosh beit midrash and a senior research fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America. To read more from institute scholars, visit hartman.org.il.

Inspiring with chutzpah

Most of us could benefit from a little more chutzpah, as defined by Julie Esther Silverstein and Tami Schlossberg Pruwer, authors of Chutzpah Girls: 100 Tales of Daring Jewish Women (The Toby Press, 2024).

According to Silverstein and Pruwer, chutzpah is: “ A Jewish superpower: the daring to speak when silenced, to take action when others won’t, to try when they say it’s impossible, to persevere in times of doubt, to be yourself when it’s easier to conform, to stand tall when made to feel small, to believe when it all feels hopeless, to shine your light in the face of darkness.”

With Chutzpah Girls, Silverstein and Pruwer “hope to power up a generation of knowledgeable and confident Jewish kids by zooming in on Jewish women with extraordinary stories across the diverse Jewish experience.”

Chances are that many of the adults reading these stories will also be inspired, learning about several, if not a dozen or more, Jewish women they’d never heard of before: brave and action-oriented women from all over the world, from ancient Israel (1500-587 BCE) to the 21st century.

image - Prophetess Abigail, from Ancient Israel, whose portrait was created by Rinat Hadar — Prophetess Abigail, from Ancient Israel, whose portrait was created by Rinat Hadar.

The 100 are listed alphabetically by first name, rather than chronologically, which gives a timelessness to the feats of each woman. Whether one is a prophetess in ancient Israel, a philanthropist in the early modern era, a trade unionist in the emancipation era, a human rights activist in the 20th century or an intelligence and cybersecurity official in 2024 is mostly irrelevant to the courage one can show.

There is a timeline at the beginning of the book that outlines the eight time periods into which each of the 100 Chutzpah “girls” is placed. Near the end of the book is a map, showing their global and historic presence: Argentina, Bahrain, Ethiopia, Germany, Kurdistan, Mesopotamia, Persia, Russia, Ukraine, the United States, Yemen, and others.

There are three Canadians who made it into Chutzpah Girls: Judy Feld Carr, Lori Palatnik and Rosalie Silberman Abella. And they illustrate how people who are just like us can do impressive things and step up when need be.

Carr was a musicologist, she had a young family. Then, she read an article about Syrian Jews who, after Israel won the Six Day War against its Arab neighbours, were suffering. “Although she was far away, she wanted to help,” write Silverstein and Pruwer. “She reached a rabbi in Syria’s capital city of Damascus by telegram and began sending boxes of needed supplies, including religious books.”

Even after the sudden death of her husband left Carr a single mother, she continued to help, recruiting volunteers from her synagogue. “Using religious terms as coded messages, they started a secret communication system with the Syrian Jewish community. Judy’s home turned into the hub of an underground escape network to help the Syrian Jews flee to safety…. She negotiated ransoms, planned elaborate escapes, and even smuggled people across heavily guarded borders.”

Carr helped save more than 3,000 Jews.

Palatnik is founding director of Momentum, a global organization that connects women to Jewish values and to Israel, and encourages them to take action to promote unity that embraces difference.

“One day, Lori was asked if she’d donate her kidney to a stranger,” write Silverstein and Pruwer. “Hesitant at first, she drew on her sense of achrayut, the responsibility we have for one another. ‘For someone I don’t know?’ she wondered hesitantly. ‘But someone knows her. This is someone’s wife, mother, daughter, friend. Why would I pass up this mitzvah just because I don’t know her?’” (Years earlier, Palatnik had been willing to donate a kidney to a friend, but hadn’t been a match.)

Abella (née Silberman) was the daughter of Holocaust survivors. Born in a displaced persons camp in Germany, she was 4 years old when the family “immigrated to Canada with little more than hope for a better future.” She became “the first Jewish female judge in Canada and the youngest in the country’s history,” never trying to hide that she was Jewish to succeed, write Silverstein and Pruwer.

“In her career, Rosalie worked tirelessly to eliminate the disadvantages faced by people with disabilities, women, people of colour, and the native aboriginal community. After 25 years as a champion of human rights and equality, Justice Rosie became the first Jewish woman to sit on the Supreme Court of Canada.”

Written in a concise, clear manner, there is a lot to learn about some amazing people in Chutzpah Girls. Every entry comprises the name of the woman, her era, when she was born and in what country, her job or title, a writeup about one of her chutzpah aspects, and a quote from the woman that reflects what she did or general words of wisdom.

image - Jewish defenders Zivia Lubetkin, who helped command the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and her granddaughter, Roni Zuckerman, an Israeli fighter pilot, as envisioned by Shiri Algor — Jewish defenders Zivia Lubetkin, who helped command the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, and her granddaughter, Roni Zuckerman, an Israeli fighter pilot, as envisioned by Shiri Algor.

Alongside the text for each woman is a beautiful, colourful, expressive portrait created by one of the dozen-plus illustrators and graphic artists that Silverstein and Pruwer enlisted for this book. The styles are so varied, but all are bold and capture the essence of the woman portrayed.

The last story and portrait in the book are left blank for the young (or old) reader to add their tale of chutzpah and a drawing of themselves.

But the book isn’t the end of it. Readers are encouraged to let Silverstein and Pruwer know who you’d like people to know more about – “a favourite figure from the Torah, a changemaker in your local community, or a leading lady in your own family. It’s even possible our next Chutzpah Girl is you!”

To send your suggestion(s), email [email protected]. To learn more about the writers and the artists, visit chutzpahgirls.com.

Jewish Mexican food excites

Paletas can be made in many flavours. Sabor Judío includes a recipe that uses Manischewitz wine. (photo by Ilan Rabchinskey)

The minute I saw the cover, I wanted to try some of the recipes in Sabor Judío: The Jewish Mexican Cookbook by Ilan Stavans and Margaret E. Boyle. Not only did I learn how to make some very tasty food, but I learned a bit about the Jewish community in Mexico and its history.

Published by the University of North Carolina Press, with hunger-inducing colour photographs by Ilan Rabchinskey, and written by two Jewish Mexican scholars (now living in the United States), Sabor Judío was a cultural experience for me, never having been to Mexico before and only ever having made a basic burrito at home. Of course, I’ve eaten at many Mexican restaurants over the years, but Sabor Judío features recipes you won’t necessarily find in a restaurant here in Vancouver, or even in Canada, though local Jewish community members with Mexican roots might make some of these dishes at home.

There were two very important inspirations for Sabor Judío.

One was Stavans’ grandmother, Bobe Miriam, whose recipe book, written in a mix of Yiddish and Spanish, was started in the 1920s, after she immigrated to Mexico from Poland. It evolved over decades, as she figured out what worked and what didn’t, and as ingredients changed. The notebook “wasn’t just about cooking; it was also a time capsule that chronicled, through dishes, the Jewish family’s process of assimilation into Mexico and the way La Comunidad, as the Jewish Mexican community is known, showcases its personality to the world.”

The other was Boyle’s great-grandmother, Baba Malka, also a Polish immigrant to Mexico: “While Baba Malka was still actively cooking, her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren took turns observing and documenting her work in the kitchen in Mexico City, filling the notebook’s pages with notes and adaptations in Spanish, Hebrew and English as the family generations expanded across Mexico and into the United States.”

The recipes in Sabor Judío are “dishes collected from grandmothers and other beloved home cooks, professional chefs and bakers, and a variety of historical sources,” writes cookbook author Leah Koenig in the preface. Even she came across ingredients she had never used before. “I learned the hard way that nopales (cactus paddles) should always be handled wearing gloves, lest the prickly spines leave your hands stinging for the rest of the day.”

The recipe for Cactus Tomato Salad does include a note about the proper handling of cactus leaves. But, not sure of where I could buy cactus here, I inadvertently saved myself the trouble of removing the spines, boiling the cactus and cutting it into 1/4-inch pieces by buying a jar of cactus that was already prepared in that way. This substantially eased the process of making this salad, which was very good, though I’m sure fresh cactus would have made it even better.

I chose what to make from Sabor Judío by looking at what the cookbook authors recommended as a festive Hanukkah meal, which includes the Cactus Tomato Salad. I had already singled out the Falafel Taquitos because I liked the idea of mixing Mexican and Middle Eastern flavours. In the end, there was a bit of a disconnect for me between the taste of the falafel centre and that of the corn tortilla shell. In eating leftovers the next day, I greatly enhanced the enjoyment of this dish by adding some fresh-cut tomatoes and cucumber.

I also had already eyed Agua de Horchata because of the first sentence in its description, which says that the rice-milk drink – which is believed to have 11th-century North African origins – “accompanies a good Mexican Jewish meal.” I was very pleased with how it turned out. I will definitely make it again.

The Latkes con Mole were as labour-intensive (grating potatoes and onion) and delicious as other latkes I’ve had, and I would happily swap out my usual apple sauce every so often for mole and crumbled queso fresco, even though it takes a lot of time to make mole.

I tried a second fried item, it being for Hanukkah and all, and the Sor Juana’s Ricotta Buñuelos were so good, if that’s a thing. The anise really made them pop, and I ate way too many.

Lastly, knowing how much I like paletas, I couldn’t resist making the frozen treats using Manischewitz. The wine most definitely tastes better frozen, after being steeped in cinnamon, cloves and orange.

There are other Hanukkah – Janucá – meals, as well as suggested menus for other Jewish holidays. In total, there are about 100 recipes in Sabor Judío, including desserts. One thing you’ll learn from this cookbook is that the Canadian and Mexican concepts of breakfast, lunch and dinner differ somewhat. You’ll learn some Spanish, some history and more. You’ll be introduced to some new-to-you ingredients and ways to combine those ingredients.

As Stavans and Boyle wish readers at the end of their book’s introduction, perfectly capturing the fusions taking place throughout it: “¡Buen provecho! Mit a gutn apetit! Kome kon gana!” Enjoy your meal(s).

FALAFEL TAQUITOS
(serves 6; prep takes 30 minutes plus overnight soaking and a 30-minute chilling time; 20 minutes to bake)

for the taquitos:
1/2 lb dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in water, then rinsed and drained
1/2 medium yellow onion, roughly chopped
2 tbsp fresh parsley, roughly chopped
2 tbsp cilantro, roughly chopped
2 medium garlic cloves, roughly chopped
1 tsp kosher salt, plus more as needed
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/8 tsp cayenne
vegetable oil, for brushing
12 (6-inch) corn tortillas

for the tahini sauce:
1/2 cup well-stirred tahini
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup cold water

1. Add the chickpeas to a food processor bowl along with the onion, parsley, cilantro, garlic, salt, cumin, coriander and cayenne. Pulse, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed until a textured paste forms. Taste and add more salt, if needed. Transfer to a bowl and refrigerate the mixture for 30 minutes.

2. Heat the oven to 400˚F and brush a 9-by-13-inch baking dish with about 1 tablespoon of oil. Lay one tortilla on a flat surface and place a scant 1/4 cup of the filling along one edge, nudging it into a line. Roll up the tortilla tightly and place it seam-side down in the prepared backing dish. Repeat the process with the remaining tortillas and filling.

3. Brush the tops of the tortillas with more oil and bake until crispy and golden, 15-20 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together the tahini, lemon juice and water. Serve the taquitos hot, drizzled with tahini sauce.

AGUA DE HORCHATA
(serves 8-10; prep takes 10 minutes, plus overnight soaking and a 4-hour chilling time)

2 cups long-grain white rice, rinsed well and drained
1 cinnamon stick
6 cups room-temperature water, divided, plus more as needed
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 cups whole milk
2 tsp vanilla extract
ice, for serving (optional)

1. Place the rice and cinnamon stick in a large glass bowl and add 4 cups of the water. Cover the bowl and let the mixture soak overnight at room temperature (at least 8 hours).

2. Pour the soaked rice mixture into a high-powered blender along with the sugar and blend until smooth. (You can tear the cinnamon stick into smaller pieces to facilitate its blending.) Pour the mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a large wide-mouth pitcher, stirring and pressing the mixture with a spoon, if needed, to help the liquid pass through the sieve. (Discard any remaining solids.)

3. Whisk in the milk, the remaining 2 cups of water, and vanilla. Cover the pitcher and chill the horchata in the refrigerator until cold, at least 4 hours. (The mixture will continue to thicken as it chills.)

4. Just before serving, stir the horchata well and pour into glasses (over ice, if desired). If the horchata gets too thick, you can thin it with a little more water.

SOR JUANA’S RICOTTA BUÑUELOS
(makes 10-15 fritters; prep takes 40 minutes, plus 1-hour resting time; 30 minutes to cook)

1 cup ricotta cheese
6 egg yolks
1/4 cup granulated sugar, plus more for serving
2 1/2 tsp ground anise
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
vegetable oil, for frying
jam, for serving

1. Combine the ricotta, egg yolks, sugar and ground anise in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat on low until combined. Whisk together the flour and baking powder in a medium-sized bowl.

2. Add the flour mixture to the ricotta mixture in stages, beating on low and scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary, until a thick and sticky dough forms. Cover the mixing bowl and let rest at room temperature for 1 hour.

3. On a large, floured work surface using a floured rolling pin, roll out the dough to a 1/8-inch thickness. Use a sharp knife and a plate or bowl with a 4-to-5-inch diameter to cut out circles. Gather the scraps and repeat the rolling and cutting process, if desired.

4. Heat 1/4 inch of oil in a medium frying pan set over medium heat until it reaches 350˚F on a digital thermometer, and line a large baking sheet with paper towels. Working with one circle of dough at a time, slip it into the hot oil and fry, turning once, until puffed and golden, 30 to 60 seconds per side.

5. Transfer the fritters to the paper towels to drain and cool slightly. Serve warm, sprinkled with more sugar or dolloped with jam.

PALETAS MANISCHEWITZ
(makes 6; prep takes 40 minutes; freeze 5 hours)

1 (750-ml) bottle Manischewitz sweet red wine
3 wide strips orange peel
4 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
2 cups water
thinly sliced limes and tangerines (optional)

1. Add the wine, orange peel, cloves and cinnamon stick to a medium saucepan set over medium-high heat. Bring the mixture to a boil, then lower the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid reduces to 1 cup, 30-35 minutes. Remove from the heat and let cool, then strain out and discard the spices and orange peel.

2. Stir the water into the strained wine syrup, then divide the mixture evenly among 6 paleta or flat popsicle molds. If desired, add a slice of lime or tangerine into each mold. Freeze until solid, at least 5 hours.

Children in the Shoah

Left to right: Abby Wener Herlin, Lise Kirchner, Dr. Nataliia Ivchyk, Prof. Richard Menkis and Al Szajman at the community commemoration of Kristallnacht Nov. 7. (photo by Rhonda Dent)

The experiences of three Vancouver women who survived the Holocaust as children in Ukraine were highlighted at the community commemoration of Kristallnacht Nov. 7.

The event, which took place at and was co-presented by Congregation Beth Israel, marked both the 86th anniversary of the Kristallnacht pogrom and the 30th anniversary of the founding of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre (VHEC), which presents the annual commemoration. The Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and the Robert and Marilyn Krell Endowment at the VHEC were co-presenters.

The keynote address was by Dr. Nataliia Ivchyk, associate professor in the department of political science at Rivne State University for the Humanities, in Ukraine. Ivchyk is a visiting scholar at the University of British Columbia and has been studying the narratives of child survivors in the province.

About 1.5 million Ukrainian Jews were murdered in the Holocaust, while another million managed to flee before or near the beginning of the German-Soviet war, Ivchyk said.

“Genocide is ruthless, regardless of age or gender, and children are a special group of its victims,” she said. “Since children cannot fight back against their killers, they become a helpless and vulnerable group. The Holocaust claimed six million Jewish lives, 1.5 million of which were tragically children. Age became a vital marker of life or quick death for children during World War II and the Holocaust. Children were not seen as a separate group of victims, they were dependent on their parents, fathers, mothers and relatives, and so suffered and died with them too.”

Ivchyk quoted Malka Pischanitskaya, who was 10 years old when the Germans invaded her town of Romanov (now Romaniv), in Ukraine.

“I was brought into this world not by chance but I believe by destiny,” Pischanitskaya has said. “My destiny was to be born, to endure the sufferings that were yet to come.”

“During the genocide,” Ivchyk said, “Malka had no choice but to become an adult in order to survive.”

Another local survivor whose story Ivchyk told is Ilana, who asked that her last name not be shared. Ilana was born in 1938, just two years before Germany invaded the Soviet Union. Her father managed to evacuate the family, including Ilana, her sister, her mother and her maternal grandparents, to a Central Asian republic of the Soviet Union.

“Unfortunately, my father’s parents stayed in Kyiv and perished in Babyn Yar,” Ivchyk quoted Ilana, referring to the mass killing site that has become synonymous with the genocide in Ukraine. On Sept. 29 and 30, 1941, more than 33,000 Ukrainian Jews were killed, part of the genocide in eastern Europe known as the “Holocaust by bullets.”

Ilana has only fragmentary memories of the evacuation years. However, she remembered her sister, who cared for her, and her mother, who tirelessly worked to provide food, said Ivchyk.

A third local woman who survived is Esfira Golgheri.

“Esfira does not recall the journey from one ghetto to another, but she remembers her mother feeding her, which was crucial for her survival as an infant,” Ivchyk said.

“There is something that the Holocaust could not take away: memory, personal memories and stories of relatives and friends and our collective memory [that] remind us by honouring the memory of those who are no longer with us. Those who lost their lives and those who fought to defend us, we keep them alive in our hearts,” Ivchyk said. “The stories of these women are stories of childhood, family and survival in the face of genocide and displacement. Each narrative is unique and personal, yet the memories of Esfira, Malka and Ilana … are like pieces of a puzzle that help reconstruct this tragedy. In addition to piecing together the events of the war in Ukraine during the Holocaust, we have the chance to understand the tragedy through the eyes of these adult child survivors. We can touch their memories and experience their truth for ourselves.”

At the commemoration, Taleeb Noormohamed, member of Parliament for Vancouver Granville, brought greetings from the federal government.

“The fight against antisemitism is not one for Jews alone,” said Noormohamed. “Quite the opposite. It is a fight that all of us have to take on together.”

Nina Krieger, until recently the executive director of the VHEC and elected as member of the BC Legislature on Oct. 19, brought greetings from the provincial government.

“I know the premier of British Columbia and my colleagues in government join me in gratitude for the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and Congregation Beth Israel for presenting this evening’s program to mark the 86th anniversary of Kristallnacht,” Krieger said.

Vancouver Mayor Ken Sim, accompanied by Councilor Lenny Zhou, presented a proclamation from the city marking Kristallnacht Commemoration Day.

Sim spoke of how his home had been recently vandalized and how many people at that evening’s event had expressed sympathy.

“The Jewish community sees this all the time and I should really be asking you how you are doing,” he said. “I obviously loved the community before, but you’ve captured my heart even more.”

He said his presence at Jewish community events is not about politics.

“If everyone was against us, we would still have your back. We are still here because we stand for what’s right,” Sim said.

Lise Kirchner, director of education at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Center, spoke on behalf of acting executive director Hannah Marazzi, who was out of the province, read greetings from Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and acknowledged elected officials from all levels of government, including incoming and outgoing members of the BC Legislature.

“As we come together this evening to commemorate the 86th anniversary of the Kristallnacht pogrom, we contemplate the dangers not only of state-instituted persecution and violence, but maybe more importantly the dangers of indifference,” said Kirchner. “We are reminded of the consequences of antisemitism which is not publicly condemned, especially at a time when we have seen the proliferation of this most pervasive and pernicious form of hatred around the world, across the country and in our own backyards.”

Prof. Richard Menkis, associate professor of Jewish history at the University of British Columbia, contextualized Kristallnacht as a turning point between the legislated antisemitism of the Nazi regime, notably the Nuremberg Laws of 1935, and the murderous violence of the Holocaust.

“The persecutions during and immediately after Kristallnacht resulted in the deaths of at least 90 Jews, the destruction of hundreds of synagogues, the vandalization of thousands of Jewish businesses and the imprisonment of over 30,000 Jewish men in concentration camps and elsewhere,” said Menkis.

Al Szajman, president of the Vancouver Holocaust Centre Society board, emceed the evening. Abby Wener Herlin, associate director of programs and community relations at the VHEC and granddaughter of survivors, introduced Ivchyk. Rabbi Jonathan Infeld thanked Ivchyk and reflected on her remarks. Cantor Yaacov Orzech chanted El Moleh Rachamim. Holocaust survivors lit candles at the beginning of the commemorative event.

Ivchyk spoke movingly of being welcomed into the community during her time in Vancouver.

“Coming from a wartorn country myself, you accepted me, understood me, opened the doors of your community and your homes, creating an incredibly warm and family-like environment that gave me a home away from home,” she said. “You have entrusted me with your history and the history of your families and your childhood experiences that you have kept in silence for many years. Every time you shared your stories, I could feel the sadness and pain in your eyes. You still feel for those who were taken by the Holocaust.”

Blue Rodeo is thriving at 40

A 1989 PR photo for Blue Rodeo’s Diamond Mine album. Left to right are Bazil Donovan, Bob Wiseman, Jim Cuddy, Greg Keelor and Mark French. The documentary Blue Rodeo: Lost Together (left) has its world premiere at the Whistler Film Festival. (photo by Andrew MacNaughtan / bluerodeo.com)

The world premiere of Blue Rodeo: Lost Together, which gives viewers a glimpse into the rise of this iconic Canadian band, was so anticipated that the first screening of the documentary at the Whistler Film Festival sold out – a second screening has been added.

The Whistler Film Festival runs Dec. 4-8, offering several programs, including feature-length films, shorts and its “Mountain Culture” series of films, après events and Q&As. The WFF24 Content Summit, which runs Dec. 4-7 in person and Dec. 10-12 online, presents speakers, panel discussions, workshops and other opportunities to learn and connect.

Looking through the festival lineup, I came across Blue Rodeo: Lost Together and requested the screener for a few reasons. First, I grew up with Blue Rodeo’s music and knew many of their songs. Second, given the challenges of being recording and touring musicians – and Canadian to boot – I find it remarkable that the band is as popular as ever 40 years after high school friends Jim Cuddy and Greg Keelor started it. Lastly, founding members included Bazil Donovan (bass), Cleave Anderson (drums) and, most interestingly from my perspective, Bob Wiseman (keyboards). Wiseman is my second cousin and, though I’ve never met him, I have always been proud to let people know that I had a relative in Blue Rodeo. Wiseman was part of the group from 1984 to 1992.

Blue Rodeo: Lost Together delicately covers the comings and goings of musicians, and the sometimes-difficult friendship and professional collaboration of Cuddy and Keelor. It is frank about the band’s challenges in becoming a commercial success, starting as it did in the era of hard rock, but also dealing with some producers who had a different vision than Cuddy and/or Keelor of what would lead to that success. It is always fascinating to see how creative people balance their very personal drive with taking other people’s feelings and opinions into consideration (or not) and the need to feed and clothe themselves.

Overall, Blue Rodeo seems to have avoided any huge drama, though marriages and partnerships were tested by the rigorous tour schedule once the group broke into the international music scene. Some member partings were clearly amicable, such as when Anderson returned to his postman job after taking a five-year hiatus to play with the band – he had a family to support and wanted to be present for them. Other separations were more fraught: Wiseman wanted to leave a good year at least before he did, his unhappiness seeming to have started – from what I understand from the documentary – with the making of the album Casino, which was released in 1990. To make Blue Rodeo fit a more market-friendly mould, so it could become popular in the United States, Wiseman’s innate energy and expressive performance style was tamped down. “That was really traumatic for me,” he says in the film.

Despite creative differences and some tough times, all the interviewees in the documentary speak of one another and their experiences with great respect and gratitude. It is uplifting to see people treating one another kindly, even as they disagree. Hopefully, it isn’t just for show. Their affection seems genuine. The bonds these musicians have created between themselves and with their listeners seem strong. With all the bad that happens in the world, this is reason enough to watch this documentary – and, if you haven’t already, check out the music of Blue Rodeo.

At press time, there were tickets left for the Dec. 8 screening of Blue Rodeo: Lost Together. Of course, the festival features many other movies during its Dec. 4-8 run, including September 5 on Dec. 5 and 8. The thriller is based on the hostage-taking of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics. The description reads: “At the heart of the story is Geoff, a young producer eager to prove himself to his legendary boss, Roone Arledge. Teaming with Marianne, a German interpreter, Geoff unexpectedly takes the reins of the broadcast. As tensions rise, conflicting reports swirl and the lives of the hostages hang in the balance, Geoff faces difficult decisions that test his skills and moral compass.”

For tickets to the Whistler Film Festival and the full lineup of movies, visit whistlerfilmfestival.com.

Learning from her ancestors

Tasha Faye Evans shares a work in progress at Dance in Vancouver. (photo courtesy Scotiabank Dance Centre)

“With everything I do, I always ask myself, what is the medicine of this work? How is this dance, this play, this project, contributing to the greater health and well-being of my community? Who is this character speaking for? Who am I dedicating this work to? Then, when it comes time to perform,” said Tasha Faye Evans, “I am rarely nervous, because it’s not about me and my skills, its more about the work I am doing and who I am doing it for.”

Evans was speaking to the Independent in advance of Dance in Vancouver, which runs Nov. 20-24 at the Scotiabank Dance Centre. The dance and theatre artist, who has Coast Salish, Welsh and European-Jewish grandparents, is presenting t’emək’ʷqən-seed, a work in progress, in a free-to-attend double bill with Starr Muranko/Raven Spirit Dance on Nov. 22, 2 p.m. A moderated conversation with the artists will follow the performances.

“There is not a word in Coast Salish culture for art,” writes Evans on her website. “Our art is functional. Our dances, prayers. Our songs, blessings. I am an artist because I love fiercely and creating work is my way of having hope, preserving the sacred and imagining a better future for all our relations.”

“My own body of work has always been because I am not a blockader, I don’t write the letters to the people in charge, I am weary of shaking my fist in the air,” she told the Independent. “My dance, theatre and community work are my way of addressing a helplessness I feel in the face of the misused powers in the world. My community work is mostly about redress and recalibrating values to align with the original caregivers of these Coast Salish lands and waters. We all share in a sacred responsibility to ensure a future of health and well-being for all our relations, and my work is in service of this sacred responsibility.”

Evans’s choreography has been presented by various companies and she has participated in performances and festivals around the world. She has many projects on the go, in dance and more broadly. One initiative is In the Presence of Ancestors, an exhibition of five Coast Salish House posts being carved and raised in Port Moody along its Shoreline Trail. She was recognized for the

exhibit with a 2023 Edge Prize, which is given to leaders, or “Edgewalkers,” in the Salmon Nation, described on the prize’s website as “a bioregion defined by the historic range of wild Pacific salmon, from the Salinas River in California, north to the Yukon River in Alaska.”

seed was inspired by a sculpture created by Coast Salish artist James Harry.

“The sculpture was part of KWÍKWI – The Seventh, an exhibit James Harry and his partner Lauren Brevner dedicated to their daughter, the seventh generation born in James’s family since colonization,” said Evans. “seed draws upon what master carver Xwalacktun [James Harry] refers to as the Ancestor’s Eye or the Salish Eye, and the fundamental shapes and teachings of Coast Salish art and design, the sphere, crescent and trigon. The Salish Eye can be found carved into the oldest Coast Salish tools and, for that matter, I refer to these shapes as sxwōxwiyám, part of our original stories, written into the land and shared generation to generation, teaching us how to be human.”

Having collaborated with master carvers for more than a decade now, Evans said her “choreography experiments with how Coast Salish art and design can be expressed in movement, gesture and architecture of the space. I am developing a methodology that is based in the shapes and cultural teachings of the Ancestor’s Eye, the sphere, trigon, crescents, and the space in between. I am passionate about showcasing Coast Salish art form and culture and I am driven to share sxwōxwiyám and invoke a sacred responsibility in my audiences for all our relations.”

photo - Tasha Faye Evans — Tasha Faye Evans (photo by Yasuhiro Okada)

What people will see at Dance in Vancouver is “the tap root of t’emək’ʷqən-seed,” said Evans, “the first part of the work to grow, unfolding itself first towards the earth. I’ll be sharing that vulnerable moment of the creative process where the story is newly manifesting, taking root in the body and just beginning to grow.”

seed was commissioned by Odd Meridian Arts, whose artistic director is Ziyian Kwan. While in residence there, Evans created another work, Song.

“My connection with Odd Meridian Arts began decades ago when I was a shaved-head theatre kid and Ziyian was one of those dancers I’d see on posters and just stare at in awe,” shared Evans. “She’s always represented ambition for me and what a successful career as an artist looks like. (I don’t think I’ve told her this.) Ziyian has always been one of those artists whom I could only aspire to be.”

It was during COVID that Evans said she “got over” herself and responded to a message Kwan had posted on Facebook.

“Song was also a seed,” said Evans. “It was a section of a larger piece I am still creating called Cedar Woman. It was a landing piece in my creative process, when I was exploring how to re-member myself to a legacy of Coast Salish women. I follow the song I hear calling me in my heart. The dance is a journey through the song, all the way back in time to my first grandmother, singing the song as prayer for her grandchildren during the great flood. I don’t dance Song the same in Cedar Woman any longer, but the core of Song, is finding itself in seed.”

For Evans, being part of such diverse ancestry, holding space for her Coast Salish, Welsh and Jewish heritage, is challenging.

“For much of my adult life, it has been learning how to sit in the circle within my Indigenous community,” she said.

“I didn’t grow up in Jewish culture more than our comfort foods like chicken soup, matzah, and lox and cream cheese. We did not practise being Jewish and I learned very little about this part of me other than the trauma we all carry. For years, I wore a Star of David, mostly because it was a gift from my Nana. Sometimes, I feel my Jewish great-grandmother Faye nudging me disgruntledly until I mention her name, too, when I introduce myself. I’m not sure how to hold being Jewish in this body while living here in these Coast Salish lands and waters.

“There is a piece I’d like to create for my GG Faye, actually. I have a long mink coat that reminds me of one of the photos I have of her, taken just before World War II. I know she’d really appreciate that and I welcome the parts of me I would discover dancing for her.”

Her Welsh heritage has also been less explored, but, said Evans, “I have always longed to go to Wales. To dance on those lands and waters and listen to the language calls me for sure.

“While it’s these Coast Salish lands and stories that dance in me the loudest, I do honour that I am the dream of all my ancestors.”

Dance in Vancouver also features a work by Action at a Distance/Vanessa Goodman on Nov. 23 and DIV Unstructured on Nov. 24 includes Idan Cohen/Ne.Sans Opera & Dance. For more information and tickets, visit thedancecentre.ca.

When new is also ancient

It turns out that a war and a worldwide increase in antisemitism may cause more Jewish people to return to Jewish spaces. Some Jewish atheists try out fasting for Yom Kippur. New faces appear at synagogue. Lectures and events that were sparsely attended in the past seem to have more takers. If you’re a regular in a Jewish community, you may have seen this already. There are many reasons, including a need to find community and avoid antisemitism, or to return to religious practice after dealing with so much death. For those who were already attending or even occasionally attending Jewish services or events, things have also changed.

My twins had their b’nai mitzvah in June. I’d long thought of how cool it would be if they could help fill out a minyan more often (a group of 10 needed for communal prayer). However, there have been obstacles. Our congregation’s building was under renovation. The temporary spot, while lovely and hospitable, required a car ride.

This fall, the congregation moved back to its building and we live in easy walking distance. My kids attend public school and didn’t have Sukkot off. Yet, when one kid asked to attend minyan on Hoshanah Rabbah, the last day of Sukkot, I immediately said yes. He would have “an appointment” that morning, according to the attendance sheet, and arrive a little late. We figured, no need to claim a religious holiday (antisemitism concerns, again), but that’s what it was, of course.

Hoshanah Rabbah was a new experience for us, though it’s an ancient ritual. It involves circling the pulpit (a stand-in for the Temple altar) seven times, with lulav and etrog in hand. Marking the end of the fall holidays, it’s a last chance to ask for forgiveness and a better year.

Traditions differ about what is said during this ritual, but our congregation read piyyut, which are traditional poems, a part of Jewish liturgy that often includes acrostics (poems that use the alphabet). Some of the piyyut are very old. I found myself praying that my fruit trees don’t get fungus or that my fields wouldn’t be cursed. It might seem funny to ask for some of these things, but my city backyard has young apple, apricot, plum and cherry trees. I don’t want fungus!

It was especially poignant to pray – in the “Foundation Stone (“Even Shetiyah”) poem – about “the goodness of Lebanon, beautiful place, joy of the world.” This came straight out of the Siddur Ashkenaz (the Ashkenazi prayerbook), with specific quotes from Isaiah, Psalms and Lamentations. Our historic relationship with Lebanon is a rich one. Many of us, Israelis and diaspora Jews, would love to visit Beirut, the “Paris of the Middle East.” Some of us have ancestors who lived there, and we would like to see where they grew up or spent time. This urge isn’t new; our desire to have a good connection to Lebanon as a neighbour is ancient.

Then, we all were handed bundles of willows. We beat these on the lectern with force while saying, “Save your people and bless your heritage, care for them and carry them forever.” It was primal, cathartic, and very messy. There were willow leaves everywhere.

My kid was only a little late to first period art class. I went home in wonder. Later, I joked with one of my professors from graduate school, Jack Sasson, who I respect deeply, about how, for me, this previously unknown Jewish ritual felt stirring and exotic. He suggested that paganism still has something to teach us. The beating of the willows is ancient indeed. It’s a namburbi ritual from Mesopotamia, he said. When I remarked that I could get into this paganism thing, his reply left me laughing. “Ishtar will welcome you.”

I was still reflecting on all this when watching some new friends with young kids dancing on the evening of Simchat Torah. To help everyone through the first yahrzeit of Oct. 7/Simchat Torah, our rabbi dedicated each hakkafah (circuit around the room with the Torahs) to a different group: first responders, those who had died in the past year, the unity of the People of Israel, etc. The next afternoon, the kids came over for snacks and to play. One of the parents asked me why there was so much reference to Israel stuff. I realized that here, too, was a confluence of old customs and new experience.

I explained that some of these prayers, for instance, the prayer for the hostages, weren’t new. The Talmud, codified in 500 CE, discusses the topic of hostages at length. The first instance of the prayer for the redemption of hostages that we use today was documented in the Mahzor Vitry, named for Simhah b. Samuel of Vitry, a French talmudist who died in 1105 CE.

I reminded them that many present at the synagogue were in mourning for people who had died. While celebrating old holidays, we need to acknowledge the current situation. These days, services usually include prayers for the state of Israel and the Israeli army, too. None of these are newly written prayers.

Of course, Sukkot itself, a harvest festival that required Israelites to go to the Temple in Jerusalem – last destroyed in 70 CE – is also all about Israel.

I drew a few conclusions from these social encounters. First, for those who may feel jaded and aware of Jewish yearly events, there’s always something new to learn. For me, it was the primal connection to Mesopotamia, namburbi ritual and, yes, Ishtar, the goddess herself. For those who hadn’t been at synagogue for some time, there were many questions, new encounters and experiences, too. What unites it all is a realization that, while our individual learning curve might be new to us, the rituals, the prayers, and the historic connections to Israel are ancient.

For all of us, in a time when political rhetoric seeks to disconnect diaspora Jews from the land of Israel, Sukkot and Simchat Torah were a powerful – and timely – reminder of our past and our future, together.

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.

Running in the human race

I am still running in this race. For those of us who are older, it seems to take much of our strength to show up every morning and run the course. It seemed easier when we were younger, full of the energy of youth. We have forgotten what it was like when we were discovering who we were, who we were going to be. Surely, that was a struggle, even if it was a different one than we face today as older people.

There are mysterious things about this race. Who are the winners? What does winning mean? The rewards don’t necessarily go to those who arrive soonest at the finish line. Maybe it is more like a relay race, in a family sense. Lots to think about.

I have a grandson, more than one, in fact. All of them are fully engaged in finding their way in the foot race in which all of us living on this planet are engaged. As are my granddaughters. Seeing the challenges they face, the stories they tell me about what they are doing and what they are planning, bring memories of my own beginnings. I see how competitive the world they are inhabiting is. I see how some of them are so conscious that their every move, every decision they make, everything they do, right or wrong, is recorded, and will affect their future possibilities. These children, in their mid-teens and early 20s, are struggling with perspectives we did not awake to until we were 10 or 15 years older. How about that kind of pressure!

I think of the path I have followed, growing up in Winnipeg, moving away to make my fortune, seeking to put my own personal mark on the journey I was taking. I was so determined that I had to be the only architect of the life I was building. Was I foolish not to be a seeker of advice? I threw myself recklessly into that life, confident that, come what may, I could overcome any obstacle to my desires that might appear in my path.

I never worried about missteps. I never worried about making wrong decisions. My life was a tabula rasa, a blank slate to be shaped as I wished. Of course, my grandchildren probably think that whatever they are doing is right, too. Many of the decisions we make in the days of our beginnings have a dramatic impact on our future.

I am not complaining. I have had a glorious life. I may not have realized all the potentialities – I have not conquered like an Alexander, created language like a Shakespeare, envisaged shapes like a Moore, painted visions like a Picasso. But, like most of us, I have delivered some blessings for my fellow human beings, and I am content.

I have seen the mountains of America, Europe and Africa, and their valleys. The waters of Canada and Brazil have roared before my eyes, and in my ears. I have had a good share of the delightful places and times the world has to offer. And I had the chance to spend some of my life with the woman of my dreams.

On my travels, during the race I have run, I have learned how fortunate we are, and what real misery is. I know what the view from Dublin is like, and have witnessed the views from New York, Washington, London, Paris, Rome, Johannesburg, Cape Town, Hong Kong, Singapore, Sydney, Khartoum, Cairo, Vientiane, Bangkok, Dakar, Ougadougou, Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro. These were some of the places I lived in and visited.

Like many of us, I did not make the most of my potentialities as a consequence of my decisions. One day, I heard Neil Young say, in a television interview with Charlie Rose, that our pasts are like an overcoat. When we put the coat on, it tells the world who we are. Or the world chooses to see us as we appear wearing the overcoat of our past.

Sometimes, we wish we could shed our past and take a new direction. I’ll tell you a secret. We don’t need to do that. We can be new people any day we choose. The past we wear like an overcoat, that we have the choice of shedding, can inform the choices we want to make, but it doesn’t have to limit who we are today, and will be tomorrow.

I am not the economist that I was, the manager of people that I was, the public relations speaker and writer that I was, the researcher and marketing consultant that I was, the real estate broker, the financial advisor, the whatever I had to be. Now, in beautiful Vancouver, I write stories and poetry. I have played with clay until the faces jumped out at me. I meddle in the stock market. I try to talk to my kids often. I try to be present for my Bride. We try to make our home a friendly place.

Today, I try to be a better husband, a better friend, a better parent; some things, perhaps, that were lacking quality in my past. I am still running the race. It is sometimes a little tiring, and I have to exercise to build my stamina – but I hope to run it well, right to the end.

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

שיחה ישראלית

ישראל נמצאת בסכנה קיומית מהיום שהתחלתי לנשום לפני למעלה משישים וחמש שנים ואני לא אומר זאת כדי להפחית מחומרת העניין. מצער מאוד שחבורת פושעים בלתי אנושית של החמאס וחבריהם “הזכירו” שוב לישראלים בשבעה באוקטובר, כי הם גרים באזור מסוכן ביותר. ישראל ישנה והישראלים כהרגלם התעלמו מכל התרעה אפשרית לחדירה כה קשה כפי שאירעה באוקטובר

פרופ’ ישעיהו ליבוביץ אמר לאחר כיבוש השטחים כתוצאה ממלחמת ששת הימים שנכפתה על ישראל, כי זהו דבר חמור שיגרום נזק גדול לישראל, ישחית את המדינה ואולי אף יביא לקיצה. כל יום מאז התבגרותי הרגשתי עד כמה דבריו החמורים של פרופ’ ליבוביץ נכונים, ועד כמה הישראלים ברובם לא ראו שום בעייה בנושא החזקת השטחים הכבושים. להיפך: שטחים אלו יצרו גל הולך וגדל של תנועה משיחית של יהודים פנאטיים, שמאמינים בכל ליבם שאת השטחים הכבושים הם קיבלו מאלוהים ומצווה עליהם להתיישב בהם. תנועה משיחית מסוכנת זו שמספר תומכיה גדל משמעותית כל שנה, ממשיכה במלאכת בניית התנחלויות והרחבתן בשטחים, תוך שמתקבלות תמיכה ועידוד רב ממשלות נתניהו השונות. בנימין נתניהו ראש הממשלה הנצחי של ישראל שיושב על כיסא המלך כבר כשבעה עשרה שנים, מיישם את תפיסתו ותפיסת אביו – שיש ליישב יהודים בכל ארץ ישראל, כולל ובעיקר בשטחים הכבושים. תפיסה זו שמקובלת על ידי חלק נרחב מתושבי ישראל כיום, מונעת כל אפשרות של הקמת מדינה פלסטינית בשטחים שנכבשו. וכך גם נמנע מישראל לחיות בביטחון מלא תוך אפשרות של שלום עם מרבית מדינות ערב. מי שמתעלם מהבעייה הפלסטינית בעצם מתעלם מהאופציה היחידה לפתרון הסכסוך הארוך והנוראי הזה בין ישראל לשכנותיה. בין היהודים למרבית המוסלמים בעולם

הישראלים רוצים בדומה לאזרחי מרבית המדינות בעולם לבלות, לטוס לחו”ל וליהנות מהזריחות ומהשקיעות כאחד. אך הישראלים מעדיפים לשכוח כי מי שרוצה להחזיק בשטחים של עם אחר לא יכול לחיות חיים אזרחיים רגילים, אלא חיים מלאים בצבא, ביטחון, כוננות והתרעות. כאמור מחבלי החאמאס הוכיחו לישראלים מה קורה שישנים באזור מסוכן זה

טעה מי חשב שהחזרת רצועת עשה לתושביה יפתרו כל בעיותיה של ישראל. אי אפשר להפריד בין תושבי הרצועה לבין התושבים הפלסטינים בשטחים הכבושים. לא היה שקט באזור אחד אם לא יהיה שקט גם באזור השני. ועובדה היא שהמלחה בעזה מעוררת את הפלסטינים להתעמת עם צה”ל והישראלים ופיגועי הטרור הולכים גדלים מאז באוקטובר

כשאומרים לישראלים כי לא בטוח לגור בישראל הם עונים כמעט אוטומטית כי לא בטוח לישראלים ויהודים לגור בשום מקום אחר בעולם. האם פעם אחת שאלו תושבי ישראל מדוע אחיהם בגולה לא בטוחים? השנאה והאנטישמיות הולכות וגדלות משמעותית מאז השבעה באוקטובר? האם יש שמבינים כי מה שצה”ל עושה ברצועת עזה הוא נוראי – גם לאחר המאורעות הקשים ביותר שאירעו בשבעה באוקטובר? האם זה מובן שהנקמה צריכה לבוא בכל הכוח, ללא הפסקה ולהביא למותם של אלפי פלסטינים חפים מפשע בעזה? האם בישראל מבינים שהתוצאות הקשות של המלחמה בעזה יגרמו נזק קשה מאוד למדינה ולישראלים והיהודים בחו”ל

בישראל לא אוהבים לראות את התמונה הכוללת ולחשוב על העתיד. קל יותר להתנהל מהרגע להרגע, ללא תכנון וללא ארגון. נתניהו מנהל את המלחמה הקשה הזו בעזה שלא מביאה לעתיד טוב יותר בישראל, בדיוק כמו שהוא נכשל בהגנה על גבולותיה של המדינה. נתניהו רק חושב על נתניהו ועל רצונו להמשיך ולשלוט על המדינה שהוא הורס

Virtuoso musician, impresario

The reasons why Wendy Atkinson, who owns Ronsdale Press, wanted to publish Have Bassoon Will Travel: Memoir of an Adventurous Life in Music by the late George Zukerman, are the reasons people should read it. Zukerman had a long and impressive solo career as a bassoonist, was a pioneer in organizing concerts and tours, and gave remote communities across Canada the rare chance to hear classical music performed live.

“She recognized that his anecdotes capture a vital period in Canada’s musical history and are vivid reminders of the lengths musicians will go to tour our vast country,” reads the afterword. “George’s memoirs go beyond simply capturing a life. He expanded the cultural reach of classical music in Canada; no small feat and Canada is better for it.”

How Zukerman’s memoir came to be is an example of the communities he created in his life. When he died Feb. 1, 2023, in White Rock, the manuscript had been written, but it took several volunteers – each with their own connections – to bring it to publication quality and get it printed. After reading Have Bassoon Will Travel, you will know why they did it. Not only was Zukerman a world-class musician and impresario, but he was a world-class human being: humble, funny, innovative, hardworking, fairness-driven, adventuresome, the list goes on.

Zukerman was born in London, England, on Feb. 22, 1927. Well into the book he talks about how he never liked his name, George – his parents, both American citizens living abroad, named him after the United States’ first president, George Washington. His middle name, Benedict, was in honour of 17th-century Jewish philosopher Baruch (Benedict) Spinoza, who was expelled by his community for his ideas. Zukerman also discusses his surname, the spelling of which differs across family thanks to the North American melting pot. There is something to be said about living up to one’s name, and Zukerman certainly was a leader in his fields of music, both as performer and impresario; he certainly forged his own path, uplifting the place of the bassoon in the orchestral world, creating opportunities for fellow musicians to perform and bringing classical music to the remotest of areas; and he lived in several places and traveled, mostly for work, around the world.

It is incredible how much of life is directed by (seeming) happenstance. Zukerman’s first encounter with the bassoon was at 11-and-a-half years of age. It was an accidental meeting, as his older brother showed him around the London prep school Zukerman was about to attend.

“We wandered past the windows of a basement chapel and glanced down to where an orchestra was rehearsing,” writes Zukerman. “A row of tall pipes seemed to reach for the ceiling. I could see and hear very little through the moss-covered stone walls and grimy opaque windows of the old school, and I wondered what on earth these strange-looking instruments were. My brother, already in Form IV, authority on much, including most musical matters, declared them to be bassoons, and the piece in rehearsal the annual Messiah. We walked on to explore my new school, and any awareness that I would spend my life playing that instrument would have been uncannily prescient. The bassoon remained buried deep among early memories.”

His next encounter was as random. As the Second World War began, the family – less Zukerman’s journalist father, who joined later – left London for New York City. There, Zukerman attended the newly established High School of Music and Art.

“By way of an audition,” he shares, “I played [on the piano] my one and only party piece (a simple Beethoven sonatina). To my surprise as much as anyone else’s, I was admitted to the class of 1940! Dare I suspect that my acceptance had as much to do with short pants and an English accent as with any evident musical skill?”

On the first day of school, the kids were told to pick an instrument. “No British prep school could have readied me for such democratic and independent action, so I hesitated,” writes Zukerman. “On all sides of me, the pushy American kids ran furiously and grasped what they could most easily identify. The violins, clarinets, flutes, trumpets, cellos and drums disappeared into groping hands. When I finally reached the shelf, all that remained was an anonymous black box. I lifted it gently and carried it toward a teacher standing nearby. ‘Excuse me, Sir,’ I asked timidly, ‘but what is this?’

“He looked down, and a broad smile covered his face. ‘Why, you are our bassoonist!’ he declared.”

With faint remembrance of the tour with his brother, he thought, “Was I now going to play such an instrument?”

Indeed, he was, and to eventual great acclaim, both as part of orchestras and as a soloist. But, as you can imagine, bassoonist was not exactly a living-wage career, at least not in Zukerman’s time, and his parallel career arose from a need for more work. Having learned during his time with the St. Louis Sinfonietta in the 1940s about community concerts – where money was raised in advance through subscriptions rather than individual ticket sales, and no contracts were signed until the money to pay for everything had been raised – Zukerman, who was by then living in Vancouver, brought the idea to Canada. His offer to an American company to be their representative here declined, Zukerman decided to do it on his own.

“Canada was coming of age, and Canadian communities were ready to make their own concert plans and to welcome Canadian groups and soloists, even if at the time they were equally unknown,” he writes. “Within a decade, Maclean’s magazine would write that I had successfully outsmarted the Americans at their own game.”

It is fascinating to read of Zukerman’s efforts to expand the reach of classical music in Canada and other countries – he visited the Soviet Union eight times between 1971 and 1992, as performer and concert organizer, and brought Soviet musicians to Canada to tour. Decades earlier, he spent a year-plus in Israel, part of the nascent Israel Philharmonic. He was also part of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra in its early days, and of the Vancouver Jewish community – Abe Arnold, publisher of the Jewish Independent’s predecessor, the Jewish Western Bulletin, had a small but notable impact on Zukerman’s life.

Have Bassoon Will Travel is a truly engaging read. The way in which Zukerman writes is like how he would have spoken, though likely more concise and organized. The effect is that we the reader are having a chat with him, reminiscing. We get a feel for what life was like back in the day for a musician and entrepreneur. We feel nostalgia for a time many of us never experienced personally.