memory

A life of light and of shade

The quality of our lives seems to contain alternating waves of good and bad, hard and soft, light and shade. If we are lucky enough to appreciate that this is the nature of existence, we can bear much better with the shady parts of our lives. We can have faith that, whatever challenges we are facing, no matter how painful, the good times will roll around again. And the good times can be so good, so full of richness, pleasure, joy, lightness and brightness, that they are worth the price we may ultimately have to pay for the good fortune we have the luck to be earning.

The dilemma is that sometimes we do not realize that what we are passing through are the bright times, the good times, the best times. That often comes only with retrospection.

I remember that I left home at the age of 18 to spend a year of work and study in Israel. I did not think to ask for the permission of my parents, I just made my plans and informed them of those plans. I never thought to do otherwise, and I was never questioned. I saved up the money I needed from the odd jobs I performed as I wended my way through my high school years. I applied for the assignment, gathered my pennies and off I went, traveling across the globe.

I was a part of a group, but I felt very much alone. I remember that, being alone, on the ship sailing across the ocean, my mind brimming full of speculations about the nature of the world. I wrote incessantly about that on every scrap of paper I could find.

I have some of those scraps in a file I have kept to this day. So much of it, seems to me today, to be a load of nonsense. The gist of it was that I was a solitary sailor afloat on the sea of life and that life was incredibly sweet. I was full of wants. I wanted to find a true companion. I wanted a country of my own. I wanted to save the world. I was going to do it all myself if I had to. At the time, I could read it all in the palm of my hand, and it was all going to happen. I was totally free from obligations, except those that I chose to lay upon myself – and included in those was responsibility for creating the perfect world. All of us are heroes in our own eyes, and we have to try as hard as we can to live up to that image of ourselves.

How was that not the most superlative moment of my life to that date? I had not the merest clue as to the nature of the importance of those moments in my existence. I was unconsciously writing an agenda for my life.

I am no different from others, and all of you have had those moments in your lives, those moments whose importance is only appreciated by you with the passage of time and the gleanings of experience.

I remember holding a child of mine in my arms, and feeling like I would burst with joy. I remember when I was leaving my first job, hearing that my superiors were frantic about who they could find to fill the hole I was leaving. I remember when I realized that I had succeeded in resolving a dilemma that would yield years of success at a seemingly impossible task that I had taken on. I remember the instant when I recaptured the love of my heart after 50 long years of disappointment when I had not found the companionship I longed for. I remember the moments when I began to understand what elements of my behaviour prevented my Bride from feeling the depth of my love for her. All these events, which cast other parts of my life in the shade where they belonged, I could only truly appreciate in retrospect. The thrill they yield when I recall them I relive over and over again. So it must be for so many of you, when you recall your own experiences.

Surely there are lessons to be learned by sentient beings from these experiences. Don’t they help us, when we find ourselves in periods when there is shade all around us, know that the moments we hope for and will cherish all the days of our lives will surely arrive for us if we carry on? Just as day follows night, won’t our turn at good fortune arrive if we put in the necessary effort to survive what may seem to us to be the worst of times, and if we are lucky enough to have the good health and fortune to do so? Isn’t that the secret, that we try, and try again, to confront the challenges we face, and we never, never, give up?

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.

Honouring history amid virus

Leslie Vértes shares a family photograph. Vértes is one of the survivors featured in the Montreal Holocaust Museum exhibit Witnesses to History, Keepers of Memory. (photo from Montreal Holocaust Museum)

Collective memory has always played an important role in Jewish life and traditions. For thousands of years, Jews have celebrated holidays, mourned loss and memorialized history together as a people. And, most often, we have done so in person.

We say Kaddish as a community, celebrate a bris among a gathering of peers and family and come together every year to retell over dinner the story of the exodus of the Jewish people from ancient Egypt. The 20th-century philosopher and historian Isaiah Berlin noted, “All Jews who are at all conscious of their identity as Jews are steeped in history.” The late Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks expressed it another way: “Memory for Jews is a religious obligation.”

This past year has presented huge challenges for those institutions that strive to educate the public about history in general and, specifically, the Holocaust. During the pandemic, many museums and educational centres have been forced to choose alternative venues to connect with their members and the larger community. On Yom Hashoah and Kristallnacht, organizations across the world turned to recordings and interactive discussions in their effort to remind people that the Shoah’s messages remain relevant, even if their institution’s doors were temporarily closed.

Finding ways to continue that education and connection on a daily basis has required some creative thinking, said Sarah Fogg, who serves as the head of marketing, communications and PR for the Montreal Holocaust Museum. The museum, which was founded by Holocaust survivors, had been planning to launch a special photographic exhibit this year, highlighting the lives and wartime experiences of 30 survivors from the Montreal area.

“[The exhibit] was something that we had dreamt of for a really long time,” said Fogg. The museum had planned to narrate each of the stories visually using a triptych of personal images and the sharing of an artifact that the survivors had preserved: a father’s cap that he was required to wear at Auschwitz, a woman’s prayer book, an irreplaceable but tattered passport to freedom. But how could such stories be presented in the midst of a pandemic?

“The pandemic completely forced us to change, to rethink, to overhaul the plan we had for the exhibit,” said Fogg, who admitted there was a sense of urgency to the exhibit’s launch. Some of the speakers are now in their 90s and have already retired as volunteers. Plus, 2020 marked the 75th anniversary of the liberation of the concentration camps (and the 41st anniversary of the museum’s founding). This year, 2020, was the ideal time to launch the exhibit.

photo - Leslie Vértes — Leslie Vértes *(photo from Montreal Holocaust Museum)*

“[The online presentation] is the result of many brainstorming sessions where we discussed … how we could present this exhibit in a way that is different to other portrait exhibits that have happened around the world,” said Fogg. “And so, the ‘triptych’ as we have been calling it, the three photos, was really the result of wanting to showcase more than one portrait of the survivor and really wanting to showcase their uniqueness and their personalities.”

Fogg said it was in the middle of one of the photography sessions that the staff suddenly realized what was needed to translate this photographic essay to an online presentation. It was the survivors’ own accounts of why their personal artifacts held irreplaceable significance. It was also the story of how they had survived and how it had transformed them, once they began their new lives in Canada.

“So often when we talk about the stories of Holocaust survivors, the narrative tends to end when they leave Europe,” Fogg said. “But there is so much more to talk about.” Many of the survivors, who were children or young adults when they arrived in Montreal, went on to raise a family. All became volunteer speakers through the museum and other organizations in order to educate people about the Holocaust. Some became published authors and teachers. All, Fogg said, became inspiring leaders of their community.

photo - Margaret Newman Kaufman with her wedding photograph — Margaret Newman Kaufman with her wedding photograph. *(photo from Montreal Holocaust Museum)*

“If I had to summarize what the lesson or the inspiration would be for viewers, it’s resilience. I mean, not only are they incredible survivors who escaped the Holocaust, but they come to Canada, they build new lives, they start careers, they make families and they find happiness again. They are this embodiment of resilience.”

Taken on their own, the artifacts tell dozens of unique and often heart-rending stories about the Holocaust. But they are also testimony to the survivors’ remarkable ability to draw meaning, purpose and even beauty from the darkest of memories. Sarah Engelhard’s black-and-white snapshot tells the story of her first Passover in Canada. Ted Bolgar’s touching account gives renewed significance to friendship and the value of a precious tea set. Marguerite Elias Quddus’s last memory of her father, as he was arrested, is embodied in a bitter-sweet tale about his forgotten eyeglasses.

photo - Margaret Newman Kaufman displays her wedding rings — Margaret Newman Kaufman displays her wedding rings. *(photo from Montreal Holocaust Museum)*

Following the Second World War, Montreal became a second home for thousands of Holocaust survivors, some who saw it as a temporary port of refuge, and many who stayed to make it their home. The museum was opened in 1979 by members of the Association of Survivors of Nazi Oppression as a means to educating the public about the dangers of antisemitism and racism. More than four decades after its founding, the museum’s legacy still continues to be relevant, Fogg said. And, like the testimonies and artifacts that illumine these stories, the message it carries is an intensely human and important one.

“You know, we’re not talking about numbers or figures, we’re talking about Ted, Leslie, Liselotte and Daisy. These are real people that we love and care about and they are real people whose families and lives were torn apart by the Holocaust,” said Fogg. “And so, I think we can make a parallel to situations today, where real people are continuing to be impacted and devastated by genocide.

“I think what’s beautiful about the exhibit and working with survivors is that they are real people. What better way to understand history and especially difficult, complex and painful history than to hear it from such wonderful and caring and generous individuals,” she said. “They are the best educators and we are so lucky to learn from them, and we’re so lucky that they wanted to be a part of this exhibit.”

The museum’s effort to reach virtual audiences during the pandemic does appear to be working. Fogg said that, since its launch in September, the exhibit has not only been seen by viewers around the world, but has won three international awards for its visual presentation and design. The pandemic may have temporarily limited the world’s physical ability to connect, but it hasn’t stopped innovation or the heartfelt effort to care about others.

To see the Montreal Holocaust Museum’s exhibit, Witness to History, Keepers of Memory, visit witnessestohistory.museeholocauste.ca.

***

Montreal Jewish history in brief

The first Jews in the Montreal area were Sephardim serving in a British regiment. One was Aaron Hart, whose son would later be elected to the legislature to represent the Trois-Rivières area.

By the early 19th century, Ashkenazim from Eastern Europe had begun to trickle in and, by the early 20th century, more than 7,000 Jews had made their way to Montreal, most fleeing antisemitism in the Russian Empire and Europe. Many would arrive to find that prejudice and discriminatory policies weren’t exclusive to distant geography. The election of Ezekiel Hart to the legislature would later inspire a resolution to ban Jews from serving in office. It take another 60 years before a law would be enacted that would give Jews in Lower Canada the right to self-representation.

By the 1930s, Montreal’s Jewish population had increased to 60,000, making it the largest Jewish hub in the country. Many worked in the growing garment industry or owned stores and restaurants in the city. A smaller number moved to the country to become farmers and use skills they brought with them from the old country.

Distrust toward Jews and the growing number of Jewish refugees looking desperately for a new home before and after the Holocaust made immigration to Canada virtually impossible in the early 1940s. It took the efforts of organizations like the Canadian Jewish Congress to push for changes to immigration laws and open doors to refugee families. By the early 1950s, another 9,000 Jewish refugees eventually made their way to Montreal’s port. By the 1970s, those numbers had swelled again, reaching close to 120,000.

Today Montreal’s Jewish community is much smaller, for many reasons, including out-migration from the 1970s to 1990s. But the early Jewish pioneers, those who arrived in Montreal in the 18th and 19th centuries, are not only credited with building new businesses and opportunities for a growing city, but for planting the seeds for Canada’s diverse Jewish community.

Jan Lee’s articles and blog posts have been published in B’nai B’rith Magazine, Voices of Conservative and Masorti Judaism, Times of Israel, as well as a number of business, environmental and travel publications. Her blog can be found at multiculturaljew.polestarpassages.com.

Make history inclusive

Dr. Elizabeth Shaffer (photo from ischool.ubc.ca)

The expression of history matters. This issue, previously confined mainly to academic discourse, has been thrust into the public sphere as never before. In this year of upheaval and change, a spotlight seemed to follow the systemic racism exhibited by police forces across North America. Along with widespread protests about police behaviour came a wave of questions and action about how we choose to convey our collective history. Monuments toppled around the world, raising questions about how and why certain people are memorialized in our national consciousness and whose story is missing.

In Vancouver, the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia is at the forefront of this dialogue, pushing the agenda of inclusion and trying to make sure that the stories of as many members of our community are heard and recorded. The museum, which was founded as the Jewish Historical Society of British Columbia, has been engaged for decades in collecting the oral histories of Jews from the spectrum of Jewish life – the stories that provide a greater context to what it means to be Jewish in this place.

This year, at the Jewish Museum’s annual general meeting on Nov. 18, the keynote speaker contextualized the importance of having a variety of voices and experiences shape our collective understanding of history. Dr. Elizabeth Shaffer, executive director of the University of British Columbia’s Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre and assistant professor at the UBC School of Information, spoke to a group of well over 100 people via Zoom.

Shaffer highlighted issues of social justice, marginalization, accountability and collective remembering. Each of these topics is thought-provoking on its own, but, grouped together, the picture she painted was more than the sum of its parts. Shaffer discussed why certain monuments are problematic. She said the protests that took place this summer across the globe created a robust dialogue about “who counts.” Increased understanding that our current narrative is depicted from the perspective of the colonizer has shown the need for viewpoints of “othered people” to be included.

While Shaffer’s primary focus is on reconciliation and how museums and archives should be reimagining their roles in terms of the Indigenous population of Canada, she presented a broad call to examine practices and positionality vis-à-vis marginalized people. She suggested that museums need to collaborate with communities more and that technology has presented us with unique opportunities to do so. Social media has democratized the recording of history, allowing more citizens to contribute to the dialogue in ways never seen before. The challenge for museums and archives will be to decide how to thoughtfully filter and present this information.

“Under-documented communities do not trust museums because they are not represented,” said Shaffer. She suggested that participatory archives, which are by their nature democratic, holistic and citizen-focused, would help fill in the gaps and provide a broader representation of our history. She said, “Archival records hold power … they hold the collective and individual memory, and shape who is included and who is not.”

The recognition that museums and archives are not neutral is an important part of this work. These are some of the challenges facing the archives and museums, as greater transparency and community participation make our institutions of memory “safe and non-oppressive spaces” and repositories of an inclusive history.

Shaffer called on museums and archives to be agents of change, to be actively anti-racist and to dismantle the oppressive practices that have excluded marginalized narratives. One suggestion she had pertaining to the importance of transparency is documenting the way the story is told. She said there are deep-rooted challenges in the long game, but she has seen an interest in the museum community to do things better.

“Humility as an institution is key,” said Shaffer. “We need to reflect and evolve and have the courage to act when change needs to be made.”

In response to a question from the audience, Shaffer endorsed the practices of the JMABC, as it fulfils its mission and mandate. She encouraged the community to support other organizations as well. “Cross-pollination enriches everyone,” she said.

For more information on the JMABC, visit jewishmuseum.ca.

Michelle Dodek is a freelance writer, chef and longtime community volunteer in Vancouver. One of her current involvements is as a board member of the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia.

Rewriting memory not sci-fi

(printed with permission from ©Mount Sinai Health System)

To alleviate trauma victims’ suffering, specialists are working to reduce the emotion attached to painful memories. A leader in this field is Israeli-born scientist Daniela Schiller, who has been living in New York for the last 10 years, working as director of the Laboratory of Effective Neuroscience at Mount Sinai School of Medicine.

“I’m interested in emotions in general, because emotions can limit our freedom,” said Schiller, giving fear as an example. “It’s something that is very limiting. It’s like a dictator is taking over our brain and controlling our emotions, thoughts, decisions and behaviour.”

According to Schiller, we have the ability to change the emotions we experience, including when it comes to memories of trauma. “We have much more flexibility,” she said. “It’s a dynamic process and we can engage in that process.

“We used to think of this as a one-time process – memory creation – wherein you have them forever. In the ’60s, there was a hint that maybe it’s not a one-time process and that, actually, when you retrieve a memory, it might return to an unstable state, something similar to a newly formed memory. Then, it has to be stored again. It was termed ‘reconsolidation,’ because you repeat that process of storage.”

Schiller explained that returning a memory to an unstable state is a built-in mechanism that allows people to mix in new data about an event that happened. This built-in sensibility allows for better predictions in the future – it’s a survival system.

With the reconsolidation of memory becoming better understood, scientists are trying to find ways to use the process in real-life scenarios with trauma victims, including people suffering post-traumatic stress disorder. However, since the process also can be used to manipulate memory in a negative way, there are ethical questions that need to be addressed. At the recent Harvey Weinstein trial, for example, expert psychologist Elizabeth Loftus was called on behalf of the defence to explain how memory can change over time.

“You can easily influence eyewitness testimony when you do an investigation, by the way you ask questions and shake people’s memories,” explained Schiller. “You can plant information, and they will generally believe that this is what they remember.”

Loftus pointed to the fragility of memory, including the neurological basis to that effect, said Schiller. And, in her testimony, Loftus shared that the presence of mind-altering chemicals, like drugs and alcohol, can affect how memory is stored.

The research Schiller is conducting is geared to finding ways to lessen the emotional volume involved. “We want them to understand what happened, but the memories have to be manageable emotionally,” she said. “And the emotional advantage you had in your past or in your childhood, the emotions wear out, they become less and less emotional. Memory changes and, if it doesn’t, that means it’s a problem.”

Schiller speculated that many of the treatments that already exist capture only part of the process. For example, treatment with a therapist could be toward memory activation – meaning, you would be going into your traumatic memory. While you were in that memory, your therapist would work with you to change the emotional tone of it.

“In animals,” said Schiller, “we know the cellular processes that indicate memory is now moving and that it has been mobilized into a stable state where things are now happening and, now, you can either block it with a drug or with behaviour. We have very accurate measurements. But, with humans, we don’t know. We don’t know still what it means if the memory is actively stable in the brain. We speculate that, if you express it and you show emotions, it’s probably unstable. And then, you’d move forward and either get the drug or do behavioural therapy of some sort.

“For example, image extinction, wherein you think about the event and re-script it in a certain way, so it gives you the possibility to rewrite it – there are many different methods. There can be indirect methods that generate interference, like doing something else or using a blocker drug. These are all methods that can reactivate the memory.”

Although research on humans has shown some promise, Schiller said much more research is needed before any treatments can be developed. “We are still looking for the exact way to manipulate it to some degree, especially to tailor it to each individual,” she said.

What Schiller finds promising is that it’s a natural process – one that people practise every day, unconsciously. With that in mind, we should be able to find ways to do it consciously, by thinking about particular memories we want to rewrite and incorporate new information, she said. “Align yourself to reactivate it and try to incorporate it into the present. Again, this is not scientific advice on how to do it – this is what the science sees, the direction you can take.”

In studying the brain patterns of sleeping subjects who have experienced trauma, scientists have pinpointed where the subject’s memory was processing the parts of the trauma that induced emotion, causing bodily changes.

“They are unconscious to some extent, until they reach the conscious level and you have feelings and interpretations,” said Schiller. “That’s a whole different level and whole different process in the brain. So, we do need to look at these various levels, and then we need to adjust our therapy to these levels.

“I think it has deep meaning and I think it’s still within the scientific domain, but it will get interesting when these insights get more and more into the social realm and public awareness … because people tend to think of their memories as accurate, especially their emotional memories. I hope that the more we understand and the more science progresses, the more people will learn about it. And, the more it will change and give us flexibility, freedom, and more tools for change.”

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

Saving audio memories

Stan Shear has been on countless stages with figures Benjy, Jasper and his original puppet, Danny, now retired at the Vent Haven Museum in Fort Mitchell, Ky. (photo from Stan Shear)

To walk into Stan Shear’s studio at his Oakridge home is to take both a step back and a step forward in time. A portrait of a penny-farthing hangs on the wall, old manuscripts and books line the shelves, yet in among the memorabilia is the technology he believes will connect the past with the future.

Shear is launching My Audio Memories (myaudiomemories.com), a project in which he takes recordings – some made in his studio, others that may have been passed down within a family – and combines them into a high-quality MP3 file on a USB stick.

His service is directed at private individuals and, because it is based in his home, he can create recordings at a cost far below those of commercial services.

The process is straightforward but requires a seasoned hand to deal with the production side, which, with decades of musical and engineering experience behind him, Shear offers.

First, you would go to his studio with stories you would like to record, along with any other audio files or recordings you might already have. These are then mixed together with various inputs and accompaniments – i.e., music and other sound effects – to capture the perfect backing for the end result. Finally comes the mastering, the stage that distinguishes a professional from an amateur recording.

“I can bring a recording to the highest level with the resources and experience I have to create a unique sound that will bring out all the hidden qualities of a person’s talents and make them come alive,” said Shear.

The cost of an individual project will vary depending on the amount of production involved.

The man behind the sound

Born in Pretoria, South Africa, Shear was a well-known pianist in his younger days. He appeared on SABC (South Africa’s national radio) on several occasions and, at the age of 19, performed the Beethoven C minor Concerto with the Johannesburg Symphony Orchestra. Playing in concert halls around the country during his youth, he later became a licentiate in music.

At the same time, he studied electrical engineering at the University of Johannesburg, earning his master’s and doctor’s degrees, and specialized in information systems, working mainly on hospital communications systems. He would later teach information systems at the University of Cape Town until his retirement.

Shear, who came to Vancouver in 2004, remains a versatile entertainer and keeps a busy schedule. He plays a number of other musical instruments – guitar, harmonica, piano accordion and ukulele – and has had an active career as a singer, performing in solo concerts and singing with choirs.

In 1976, while still in South Africa, he became fascinated with ventriloquism after discovering a book at the library. Since then, he has been on countless stages, including the International Puppet Festival in Israel, with figures Benjy, Jasper and his original puppet, Danny, now retired at the Vent Haven Museum in Fort Mitchell, Ky. (See stanshear.com.)

He also has been officiating as a chazzan for 40 years, both in South Africa and Canada.

Together with his wife Karon, he is a practitioner of auditory integration training (AIT), a method for improving listening and cognitive skills. Their processes are used to help overcome learning disabilities and improve foreign language skills.

Shear has woven his own story into his new project. He divides his account into three periods, starting with his early, formative years, devoted to growing up, schooling and other events that shaped his life. This is followed by his post-secondary education and early career, and includes extracts from concerts and broadcasts.

The third stage comprises Shear’s mid-career to the present, a “mature” but nonetheless very fruitful time, with musical performances, ventriloquist shows and the My Audio Memories project, as well as his positive views on the future, as he sees it, in his senior years.

“I am following this up with a separate project of my memories of my parents, including recordings that I’m fortunate to have of my mom and dad and members of their families talking, singing and playing the piano,” said Shear. “My mom’s family were very musical and I’m lucky to have these recordings made on an early tape recorder by my dad, and transcripts of my dad’s memoirs, which he wrote.”

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

View of the past

This diary note from Molly Dexall, recalling events from Sept. 2, 1939, was found by her son, Fred Dexall, and Alex Krasniak, community support worker at Yaffa House, in one of Dexall’s old binders. It was written by his mother, who was 19 at the time; she died in 1977. It is reprinted here with permission, marking 80 years since the outbreak of the Second World War on Sept. 1, 1939.

September 2, 1939

In Prince Albert, we got the news that there would be a young Judaean Convention in Saskatoon. I wanted to go very badly and my parents agreed to it.

It was to be held in the Bessborough Hotel and to be opened by a formal dinner and dance. As I had no formal gown, I worked some Saturdays for Mr. Barsky at the Blue Chain Stores to earn enough money to buy one. The gown I bought there was pale pink taffeta and cost six dollars.

I stayed with the Sugarmans in Saskatoon and a blind date was arranged for me for the big dinner and dance. His name was Macey Milner and I thought him very handsome and charming.

In the ballroom, shortly before we were requested to find our tables, someone came up and asked me to make the toast to Junior Hadassah. Macey asked if I wanted help in deciding what to say but I told him it was simple and I had it figured out already.

When we were seated and I was asked to do my part, I stood up majestically in my six dollar pink taffeta gown, held up my glass of water and in a loud, triumphant voice I hollered “Here’s to Junior Hadassah” took a long drink of water and sat down. Simple it was – probably the simplest toast that Junior Hadassah has ever received.

After the dinner and dance we went car riding with Lloyd Mallin and his date and a little innocent kissing ensued with a car radio playing gentle tender music when suddenly a harsh, hoarse voice broke in

“War has just been declared”

We sat stunned and there seemed nothing more to do but go home.

I had some sleep and about noon Macey phoned to ask if I’d care to walk in the park with him and some other people. That scene remains imprinted on my memory like a movie still. That little group of five teenage young Judaeans seems almost to have gravitated together on that day like a point in time.

We strolled solemnly and almost silently under the warm sun, over the green grass and through the trees, Macey and I, Maishel Teitlebaum, now one of Canada’s leading artists, Neil Chotem, one of Canada’s leading musicians and Macey’s sister, now Simma Holt, author, journalist and MLA for Vancouver-Kingsway. We knew that something beautiful had ended and something terrible had begun, September 2, 1939.

– Molly Dexall –

Looking forward, back

Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Søren Kierkegaard once observed that we begin life by only looking forward, and end by looking back to understand it. The existentialists leave me cold with their nihilism and I find their approaches hard to digest, but I consider Kierkegaard’s comment very much an accurate description of life’s dynamic.

I can remember how my early thoughts were very much about what my future was going to look like. In my mind, all my presents were events that I would have to get through to get to the really important stuff. I knew we had to put up with living with the people we found ourselves tied to by the happenstance of birth. We had to follow the rules we learned from those around us to traverse this period, but our secret focus was on the future, on that time when we would be able to organize our world in a way it would better serve us.

Yes, we had to do what we were told. Yes, we sometimes formed attachments because it was expected, and even convenient. Yes, there were programmed behaviours that had to be followed faithfully. But we knew, didn’t we, that the real stuff would begin when we were in a position to be fully in charge. It sounds bloody-minded now, but those were really my thoughts. All I was living through at the time was just the price of admission, wasn’t it?

And the school years. Were we really going to need all this knowledge we were cramming? Everybody knew that this material was ancient history and that the real world was going to make it all irrelevant. Were any of the teachers people we could respect? I was cleaning out the shelves of the library with the books I was reading. That’s where my education came from, from the stories of real lives that people were leading, that people had led. I was finding my heroes there, and imagining the wonders I would realize when I finally broke free. Until then, I knew to play the game, do the work, pass the exams, collect the admission cards I was going to need. There was the brightly shining future ahead of me. I would accomplish wonders!

Then, there I was. Off on my own. Now I would remake the world. But I was a father, supporting a family. And the “membership cards” I had earned were the only things I had that were going to help pay the bills. I could see then that the stories I told myself and that I read in the library were just fairy tales – the parent who slogged away at work for many years to support us was the model I was going to have to follow. And the parent who took care of my creature comforts was the one who taught me I was valuable and that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to. And the family members I took for granted were the only ones in the world who took me at face value, no questions asked.

Could I measure up to the hero I believed I was? Could I leave a mark, or marks, that would have the kind of impact I had always assumed I would realize in my life’s work? I am now looking back and trying to understand. I am looking back to appreciate what I have come to believe are the things that have value, and which may have escaped me when I was so focused on looking forward into the glare of a bright future.

I am evaluating what I offered, what I left for the generation I helped usher into the world. When they were able to free themselves from the burden of my stewardship, did they come away with anything that proved useful to them for their lives? I hope so. It was something I didn’t appreciate enough in my growing up.

I am evaluating what I offered, what I left to others, as I was serving to glorify my own image to myself. Am I satisfied that, while I was seeking to realize the potential I believed I had, some of the things I accomplished also helped others? I hope so. That was at the heart of the fairy tales I dreamed for myself when I fantasized about the future all those years ago.

What I now appreciate is how radically the looking-forward person I was has been altered by the living experience. The inexplicable arrogance and self-indulgence of the creature who was cast forward into the world is revealed and, looking back, he has learned to eat and relish humble pie.

Hopefully, we learn how much of what we earn for ourselves in life flows from the generosity of others, in the form of love, attention, time and materials. Hopefully, we learn that, if we are to be happy, we in turn have to be willing to share what we have to offer. Hopefully, we become eager to share, if only to taste the psychic rewards such actions yield.

Nowadays, I spend my time looking back, trying to understand my life more fully. Am I that much different from you?

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.

Colour bursts forth in Conjunction

Ira Hoffecker’s current solo exhibit at the Zack Gallery, Conjunction, runs until July 21. (photo by Olga Livshin)

Conjunction, Ira Hoffecker’s current solo exhibit at the Zack Gallery, opened on June 13 and runs until July 21.

German-born Hoffecker and her family moved to Canada in 2004. “I always liked art, but when I lived in Germany, my husband and I worked in marketing for the movie industry,” she explained in an interview with the Independent.

Once, when her children were still young, they came here for a family vacation and traveled Vancouver Island. “We loved it,” she said. So much that, when they moved here permanently, they settled in Victoria. As if that wasn’t change enough, Hoffecker also decided to switch careers and follow her lifelong love of art. She enrolled in the Vancouver Island School of Art and has been studying and creating ever since.

Hoffecker’s previous show at the Zack Gallery, in 2016, was dedicated to maps. Since then, her art has undergone a couple of transformations. Conjunction is much brighter and more expressive set of works, although the abstract component remains.

On the journey to her new colourful mode, Hoffecker went through a black-and-white stage, which was the focus of her master’s in fine arts’ thesis, which she completed last year. The works she created for her master’s degree include a number of huge paintings – abstracts made with tar on canvas – plus three documentary videos. The theme – “History as Personal Memory” – was a painful one for the artist. She recalled, “One of my professors said that my works are the interconnected layers of urban setting and history. ‘Where is your personal layer?’ he asked me.”

Taking this advice, she has been trying to delve into her personal recollections, to uncover her place in history, her “personal layer” among the historical layers dominating her art. “In ‘History as Personal Memory,’ I tore pages from a history book about the Third Reich, an era in history that many Germans would prefer to forget. Yet I think it is important to face and discuss this past. Such dialogue might prevent the horrors from happening again,” she said.

In Hoffecker’s art, the artist’s memories are intertwined with the history of her nation. “Correlations between my childhood abuse, which I tried to forget, and the history of Germany, which the Germans tried to eradicate from their memories, exist in my paintings and films,” she said.

In her art and her videos, she opens up about the abuse she suffered as a child at the hands of her grandfather, who was also a Nazi. She is convinced that such openness has helped her heal, whereas suppressing the memories led only to the festering of her inner wounds.

The same is true for historical memories, Hoffecker insisted. “Germany needs to remember, to confront and challenge complacency to prevent a repetition of historical atrocities,” she said.

Her master’s thesis was a deep and painful discovery, a journey in black-and-white to underscore the grimness and tragedy of the topic. Once it was completed, she was ready for a change of direction.

“I spent the summer last year in Berlin,” she said. “When I came back home to Victoria, I wanted to paint some colours again.”

Hoffecker’s current exhibit bursts with vibrant colours and optimism. The series Berlin Spaces, like most of her paintings, has several layers. “There are outlines of many famous Berlin buildings there,” she said, tracing the architectural lines embedded in the abstract patterns with her finger. “The Jewish Museum, the Philharmonie, the library, the Reichstag. It is like a reconstruction, when I think about the past. I overlay history and architecture.”

One of the paintings, a bright yellow-and-pink abstract, has writing among its patterns. “It means ‘forgetting’ in German,” Hoffecker explained. “A few years ago, I was invited to have a solo show in Hof, a city in Germany. I worked there in the archives, found many old maps and records. One of their buildings is a factory now. After the war, it was a refugee camp, and there is a plaque to commemorate the fact. But, during the war, it was a labour camp, a place from where Jewish prisoners were transported to concentration camps and death, but nothing is there to remind [people] of that past. The painting reflects the current happy state of the building, but it also reflects the tragic past, the past we shouldn’t forget.”

While not many art lovers will see the horrors of the labour camp in the airy and cheerful palette of the painting, Hoffecker doesn’t mind. Like other abstract artists, she infuses her images with hidden messages, but doesn’t insist on her personal intentions.

“I own the making,” she said. “I bring in my memories and my heart, but I have to leave the interpretation to the viewers. One man in Victoria loves my art. He bought two of my paintings. He said he sees animal in them. I don’t paint animals, but I’m glad people’s own experience resonates with my paintings.”

Hoffecker is very serious about her art, but bemoans the need for promotion. “I did marketing for movies professionally, but I never really cared [about the reaction]. If someone didn’t like the movie we were pushing, it was his business,” she said. “But to promote my own paintings is scary. When someone doesn’t like what I do, I care. It hurts. I don’t want to do it. An artist wants to be in her studio and paint. It is all I want: to paint and to exhibit. I want people to see my work. Besides, a show is the only time when I see many of my paintings together. I never can do that in my studio. I only see one or two at a time.”

To learn more about Hoffecker’s work, visit irahoffecker.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Why I collect

I never set out to be a collector. Whenever I read about millionaires with fabulous private collections of art and sculpture, I thought, why not just keep a few pieces you really love and give the rest on loan to a museum or gallery so that others can share their beauty?

Yet, I find now that I do have collections. They’re not worth any money and probably no one else would want them. Most people in my age group have accumulated possessions they can’t bear to part with, despite moving homes and maybe even countries several times in their lives.

Who remembers that song of yesteryear: “Among My Souvenirs”? Part of the lyrics were: “Some letters tied with blue, a photograph or two, I find a rose from you, among my souvenirs.”

What we are collecting are memories. There are moments we want to hold on to forever and, when we handle these mementoes, they bring a smile, a tear, a bittersweet wave of nostalgia.

I have more than a thousand books, and nowhere to put them all. Many are paperbacks, yellowed pages and tattered covers. But, to throw them out would be like disposing of dear friends. Lots of poetry – some by almost-forgotten writers like Alice Duer Miller, Rupert Brooke, A.E. Housman, Dorothy Parker. Novels by Somerset Maugham, Evelyn Waugh, Hemingway, Steinbeck. Volumes of Jewish essays, which provide great divrei Torah. Books on philosophy, psychology, the craft of writing. They all represent my youth, when I discovered the world and the wonders it contained. No, I can’t throw them away!

Then there are the photos. They started out in albums, but there are too many and I’m too lazy. Beloved family no longer with us. Friends from long ago. Weddings. Babies, bright-eyed and dimpled. Rites of passage – first day at kindergarten and school, b’nai mitzvahs, graduations. Grandchildren. Holidays. They are all cherished, and overflow from drawers and cabinets.

Bric-à-brac. One earring (the other lost), given by my first boyfriend. Small children’s drawings. Their clumsy efforts at making you things from wood or papier mâché. A challah cloth with crooked stitches. A letter on a torn page that proclaims in shaky Hebrew letters, “Savta, I love you.” How could you ever toss those?

I also have a collection of shells and rocks. Most were gifts from grandchildren who wanted to give me something in return for the toys I gave them. There is a pinecone. There are stones I gathered at the Dead Sea on my sister’s last visit, when we spent a perfect, quiet day together, exchanging memories of our parents and siblings, our childhood, the dreams we realized and the ones we lost along the way. All precious. All irreplaceable.

“Get rid of the clutter,” we’re told. Not me. I shall go on collecting mementoes and memories until I die. And I hope my children, even then, will save a few of them. Because some things are worth more than money.

Dvora Waysman is a Jerusalem-based author. She has written 14 books, including The Pomegranate Pendant, which was made into a movie, and her latest novella, Searching for Sarah. She can be contacted at [email protected] or through her blog dvorawaysman.com.

Reuniting in Winnipeg

Among those at the reunion were, left to right, Helen Pinsky (Vancouver), Barbara Moser (Montreal), Chana Thau (Winnipeg), Avrum Rosner (Montreal), Cecil Rosner (Winnipeg) and Zev Cohen (Israel). (photo from the reunion)

Anyone who went to a Jewish day school in Winnipeg in the 1950s and 1960s was invited to a reunion recently – and 220 former students attended.

The Oct. 6-9 reunion was organized by Avrum Rosner, who now lives in Montreal, Zev Cohen, who now lives in Israel, and Eileen Margulius Curtis and Bert Schaffer, who both still live in Winnipeg.

Rosner started posting high school photos on Facebook. A closed Facebook group followed and then Rosner created a page inviting people to share photos from Winnipeg Jewish schools.

“So, some genius – Zev Cohen – asked on the Facebook group, ‘How about a reunion?’ And he then started laying the groundwork,” said Rosner. “It went viral after that.”

Rosner and his wife, Marnie Frain, both attended the reunion.

“There were many different Jewish schools in Winnipeg in the 1950s and ’60s, of diverse languages, attitudes to religion, attitudes to Israel, left and right,” said Rosner. “And, what was a thriving community, with unique cultural and social institutions, that reached its numerical peak around 1960, has been drastically diminished by emigration ever since.”

The main venue of the October reunion was Holiday Inn West Airport, where some of the out-of-towners stayed. But, on the Sunday, Gray Academy of Jewish Education (GAJE) hosted the reunion. The academy is the entity into which nearly all the Jewish schools have amalgamated.

The first reunion event was a dinner on Friday evening that included speeches. There was a discussion on Saturday; a brunch and greetings by GAJE staff and students, as well as a bus tour and dance party, on Sunday. On Monday, there was a farewell brunch with live entertainment, performing Hebrew, Yiddish and klezmer songs and 1960s/70s rock ’n’ roll.

Participants included students, and a small number of former teachers, from Winnipeg’s Talmud Torah, Joseph Wolinsky Collegiate, I.L. Peretz School, Rosh Pina, Herzlia, Ramah, and Sholem Aleichem School.

“For me, the highlights are not hard to identify – renewing half-century-old friendships. For me, and for many, it restored my belief in magic,” said Rosner. “Personally, I think I gained the pure pleasure of reconnection with childhood friends. Also, the confirmation of the importance and ongoing vitality of the social, cultural and ethical values … and principles many of us absorbed – not solely through formal education, but by growing up in a unique-in-many-ways Jewish community in an isolated prairie city. It was what I expected and hoped for, though exponentially better.”

Vancouver reunion attendee Helen Pinsky said, “I watched the whole thing happen on Facebook. And, despite the fact that I’d heard very little from other people who I’d gone to school with, the reunion appealed to me a lot. I made arrangements to see all my cousins in Winnipeg, and booked the trip. I attended with my boyfriend, Yossi Amit, who, at that point, knew none of my Winnipeg relatives and had never been to that city.”

Pinsky and Amit stayed at the reunion’s “official” hotel and, though the schedule for the weekend had looked quite bare, that was a plus for them, as it allowed for personal visits. “In the end, most of my cousins attended the reunion, too,” said Pinsky. “Then, we made plans for spending our free time together. The programs were well-received and gave us all a structure from which to build other plans.”

Pinsky enjoyed many aspects of the weekend, including the talk about the history of Winnipeg Jewry, the music and food at Hops, the band Finjan and reminiscences at brunch. “There were lots of photos, laughter, warmth, memories sharing, good feelings and catching up,” she said.

Helen Nadel also attended the reunion. Nadel met Vancouverite Tevy Goodman in Winnipeg in 1975, and the couple were married at what was then Rosh Pina Synagogue.

“My childhood stories of growing up in North End of Winnipeg have always interested my children,” said Nadel. “I heard about the reunion when I was in Winnipeg in April for a reunion of my high school Grade 12 class [of 1952] who all turn 65 this year. I also knew I’d have a 40th-year medical school reunion this year [Sept. 15-17]. So, I decided that this was the year to make it a trifecta.”

When Nadel and her husband decided that he would accompany her, Nadel invited her daughter, Daniella, along, too.

“For me, it was fun to see the older girls who were my cousins’ age, as I was the tag-along with my cousins when I was at Peretz School,” said Nadel. “After pointing out that I was the little pisher who was with Carol and Sandi, recognition was achieved. Reminiscences were exchanged. It was remarkable that, by the end of the weekend, people no longer looked unfamiliar. I remembered them as they were some 50 years ago.

“My daughter loved seeing me with my grade school mates. She loved hearing the stories and began texting her posse about what fun this was, wondering what they might be doing when they are our age. She particularly loved seeing us reminisce when we stopped at the two schools, Peretz and Talmud Torah. I had goose bumps when a few of us spontaneously started singing the Peretz School anthem a cappella in front of the school, although only one in the group – Pam – really remembered all the words.”

Nadel was taken aback by how close Peretz School and Talmud Torah were to one another. She had remembered them as being very far apart – not only ideologically, but in distance.

“All in all,” she said, the reunion was “a chance to re-form and strengthen our bonds and ties to Winnipeg and the wonderful community we all grew up in.”

For Myron Calof, word of the reunion reached him about a year ago, when his wife, Ros-Lynn Sheps, called him at the office to say that she had just checked their voicemail and there was a message from Bert Schafer.

“Although I had not heard that name for over 50 years, I instantly put the name to a face and called Bert,” said Calof. “After confessing that, as a kid, I had routinely stolen crab apples off his parents’ crab apple tree, Bert told me a Winnipeg Jewish schools reunion was in the works and asked if I’d attend. I didn’t hesitate for a second to say that both my wife and I would be there.”

Calof anticipated that the reunion would be a positive experience, but, he said, “It was far better than that. First, although I don’t know when I’ll see them again, I feel reconnected with old friends. Second, the experience made me realize that my classmates and I played a vital role in continuing and strengthening Jewish education – not just in Winnipeg, but in the many North American, Canadian cities where we eventually settled. We carried with us the spirit, value and importance of a Jewish education which, in the raising of our children and through participation in community endeavours, we’ve helped perpetuate.”

Calof noted the similarities between his early Talmud Torah years – less than 10 years after the founding of the state of Israel and the end of the Holocaust – and the threat the world and world Jewry face today with the rise of nationalism, antisemitism, xenophobia and challenges to liberal democracy. “I hope history is not repeating itself, especially where Jews are concerned,” said Calof. “But, if it does, I hope and I truly think, we and the generations of Jewish students who have followed us will be better prepared to oppose and push back our enemies.”

The best part of the weekend for Calof was Monday morning, when so many former students from different years and schools had the opportunity to express their gratitude to teachers, parents and school founders for helping enrich the lives of thousands of students who attended a place of Jewish learning.

Anyone who attended Jewish school in Winnipeg in the 1950s and 1960s can still add their name to the organizers’ contact list by e-mailing [email protected] and can join the 800 others in the closed Facebook group facebook.com/groups/winnipegjewishschools.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.