Tag: loss

Art transcends our lives

Little Richard, left, and Jackie Shane. A still from the film Any Other Way: The Jackie Shane Story, which closes the DOXA Documentary Film Festival on May 11. (image from NFB and Banger Films)

An incredible voice, a charismatic performer, a unique human being. Yet, most of us have never heard of Jackie Shane, a rising R&B star in the 1950s and ’60s, who appeared to disappear in 1971.

Michael Mabbott and Lucah Rosenberg-Lee’s feature-length documentary Any Other Way: The Jackie Shane Story closes the DOXA Documentary Film Festival on May 11 at Simon Fraser University’s Djavad Mowafaghian Cinema. In addition to Toronto Jewish community member Rosenberg-Lee, who may attend the festival, Winnipeg Jewish community member Toby Gillies is coming to Vancouver with co-director Natalie Baird for the May 10 screening of their short, Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying, which also takes place at SFU’s Djavad Mowafaghian Cinema.

An R&B legend

A Banger Films and National Film Board of Canada co-production, Any Other Way mixes animation and real-life footage, using Shane’s music, recorded phone conversations between Mabbott and Shane, as well as other interviews, photos and the sole recorded performance of Shane to tell the transgender artist’s story. And it’s a fascinating story, from her leaving her home of Nashville, because of safety concerns, as a queer person, to being a musician in a traveling carnival, to leaving the carnival for Montreal, then leaving Montreal for Toronto, where she immediately felt at home. 

By 1963, Shane was a sensation. Her recording of “Any Other Way” was a hit, even though radio stations in Toronto at the time generally did not play Black music – people called CHUM Radio so much they had to play the song and it rose to #2. Shane was invited onto The Ed Sullivan Show but turned them down because they wouldn’t let her perform with makeup, dressed as she wanted; she didn’t do American Bandstand, saying it was a racist show. Shane chose not to do other shows or tour. She recorded her one live album in Toronto.

But not being able to be her true self took its toll and Shane walked away from her success in 1971, changed her name and moved. “I chose Los Angeles because I wanted to feel something else,” she says in the film.

For family reasons, she eventually had to return to Nashville, where she became a recluse, only emerging in 2016 for a reissue of her songs. Nominated for a Grammy in 2018, she was ready to tour, but died in 2019, before that could happen.

Among the treasures found in Shane’s storage unit was an autobiography she had handwritten, as well as unreleased recordings. 

“Those discoveries … were incredible,” said Mabbott in an interview on the NFB website. “After Jackie passed away, we started working with her family, who didn’t know that Jackie existed, and then inherited her incredible archive. As they were discovering who Jackie was, we were understanding her through her jewelry and tapes. What was also born out of that is the family’s story, which was a slightly unexpected creative approach.

“Hearing the family talk about her, learn about her legacy and describe what it meant to them was obviously very personal but also really universal. This is a family that lived blocks away from her, didn’t know she was there and missed out on having her. I think that a lot of us feel that loss and that translates in all sorts of ways.”

Happy imaginings

image - A still from the short Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying, co-directed by Toby Gillies and Natalie Baird, which screens May 10 at SFU’s Djavad Mowafaghian Cinema, as part of this year’s DOXA festival.
A still from the short Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying, co-directed by Toby Gillies and Natalie Baird, which screens May 10 at SFU’s Djavad Mowafaghian Cinema, as part of this year’s DOXA festival. (image from NFB)

The NFB short film Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying also explores loss. The PR material describes the seven-minute work as a “meditation on love, grief and imagination,” which “celebrates life and the transformative ability of art to elevate and transcend us.” 

Featuring Edith Almadi, the short uses Almadi’s artwork and words to spur contemplation of the bonds people form, and what it’s like to lose a loved one. In this case, Almadi is recalling her son, who recently died. 

“I fly with him,” she says, and she feels happiness. In the animation of Almadi’s artwork, we see her son fly to the moon and beyond, with fairies, butterflies and other creatures. Not only is she with her son in her art, but also with everyone she loves. In her imagination, she is totally free.

“Our initial motivation for interviewing Edith was to save memories for ourselves – we find the way she speaks fascinating and poetic,” write Gillies and Baird in a directors’ statement. “When Edith looks at her drawings, she sees her memories and fantasies. She is able to escape her physical circumstance, through entering her marker and watercolour worlds.”

Gillies and Baird have led an art program at Winnipeg’s Misericordia Health Centre since 2014, and that’s where they met Almadi, a Hungarian immigrant in her late 80s, who uses a wheelchair.

“In our time knowing Edith, she has always loved sharing her outlook publicly,” the directors write. “As we have developed the film, we have shown Edith our progress along the way. She says, ‘That’s me’ and ‘That’s all I have to give’ proudly. Facilitating art-making in this personal care home has allowed us to meaningfully connect with many people in their last stages of life. As directors, this film gives us the opportunity to share this one particular experience of intimacy found through collaborative art-making.”

DOXA runs May 2-12. For tickets and the full festival lineup, visit doxafestival.ca. 

Mitzvah to return lost items

During the winter and spring in Winnipeg, sometimes one sees a child’s toy or a colourful mitten attached to a tree or hedge along a sidewalk. These are lost items. The neighbourly thing to do when you see something in a snowbank or on the packed snowy sidewalk is to pick it up and prop it up at adult eye level. It helps others. Maybe it will stop toddlers’ tears. 

Our household found somebody’s bike lock key last fall. This was harder to post. We took a piece of paper and wrote “Is this your key?” on it in large capital letters. Using clear tape, we attached the key and the sign to a powerline pole. A long time passed. One day, someone finally found their key. Relieved, we took down the sign.

I’ve been studying the Babylonian talmudic tractate of Baba Metzia, which covers civil law, including the rules around how to deal with lost items. It examines details that I often ponder. For instance, if a person finds an inanimate object, it has different obligations attached than if one finds an animal. We must return lost animals. If we don’t know how to return them, the finder must care for the animal, including feeding and watering the animal. If the animal’s upkeep is a burden, provisions exist for selling the animal and keeping the money to compensate the person who lost their animal. The particulars can be complex.

I became interested in a category that isn’t easy to describe – an object that isn’t alive or animate but still needs care. Things like books, which, in the days of the Talmud, were scrolls made of parchment made from animals. The finder had to rotate the scrolls occasionally to maintain them until they could return them. The finder couldn’t use the scrolls for study in a way that might cause undue wear on these hand-scribed texts. 

Another thing in this category, in Bava Metzia 29b, says: “If one found a garment, he shakes it once in thirty days and he spreads it out for its sake, to ventilate it, but he may not use it as a decoration for his own prestige.” As someone who makes and cares for natural fibre textiles (handspun and knit sweaters, for instance), I understood this immediately. Clothing wasn’t mass produced then. There were no factories. Everyone used spindles and spun and wove clothing. It wasn’t fast fashion. Clothes took skill and a lot of time to make. So, if someone found a garment, he knew its value. It wasn’t disposable. He must keep it well-aired, to be sure it was clean and cared for, and not attracting destructive pests like moths. Since he didn’t own or make it, he also couldn’t use the garment himself. 

Bava Metzia also explores when someone loses a garment and “despairs” of its return. That is, when one gives up entirely on getting it back.

For anyone who has seen images of the destroyed cars, homes and belongings left after Oct. 7 on the kibbutzim in southern Israel or from the Nova festival, these details hit hard. Some Israelis from these areas escaped with their lives but have “despaired” of ever getting back what they lost, they don’t want to return and try to reclaim things. Others asked for help or sifted through the remains of their homes to find precious items. Still others have managed to return home to their belongings and restart their lives.

This despair and reclamation reminded me of my in-laws and their stories of displacement after the Second World War. Their possessions, buried or left behind years earlier in Poland, were impossible to claim. Non-Jews had moved into their homes and taken their things. After four years in five different displaced persons’ camps, my father-in-law, his sisters and parents moved to the United States. Decades later, my husband’s grandmother would describe her family’s bakery in Mezritch and what they lost. Even in her despair, there was an acknowledgement that she worked daily to let go of that loss, and be grateful for a new, rich life for her family. 

This family refugee story, of loss and rebuilding, contrasts sharply with the UNRWA concept of intergenerational Palestinian refugee status. As Jewish communities have been forced to move over thousands of years, we have, perhaps, been lucky to have these talmudic guidelines, now 1,500 to 2,000 years old, on how we can claim lost items and how we can accept loss and move on. As we tell the Passover story, we remind ourselves of the many times our people have had to leave everything behind and start again. 

Teaching how to navigate lost items starts young. A PJ Library book sent to our children, called Sara Finds a Mitzva, helped us with this. Sara, the protagonist, follows through with the mitzvah (commandment) to return lost items when she finds a toy duck. She tours her Orthodox New York City neighbourhood to find the duck’s owner. My kids loved this book and its beautiful illustrations, which offered glimpses of my mother’s childhood, as well as taught a valuable lesson.

We also work with our children to help them understand that sometimes things go missing, and how to move on. After all, we say, it’s just a thing. People matter more than things. With war on our minds, we must focus on what counts most. I am praying for the safe return of the Israeli hostages. We cannot fall prey to despair – our tradition teaches that, when we despair, we have given up hope of an eventual return. Further, we must make sense of a situation where thousands of Israelis have lost their physical belongings but must now make a new life for themselves. Across the border, there are civilians in Gaza who must also rebuild their homes and lives after the war.

It’s one thing to study the rabbis’ ancient debates as an intellectual exercise. It’s another thing altogether to return pets and livestock, find belongings, and make new households amid this destruction. We have a history of past loss that offers guidance, as those affected by war are physically finding their way through this difficult experience. 

We must work together to find new paths after loss. Even if it’s familiar territory, as Jews, it doesn’t mean it’s easy. Perhaps each of us, like Sara in the children’s book, can be lucky and find something – whether it’s physical or intangible. Then we, too, can do the mitzvah of returning lost things, and observe Passover, too. Creating a joyful holiday after trauma also offers a third mitzvah, that of tikkun olam, or “repairing the world” – bringing a bit of joy back to someone who needs it. 

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.