Features
Connecting two sisters through their great-great-grandsons
By GERRY POSNER I am guessing there are two women somewhere who had a moment of joy recently. The two women I speak of are my grandmother, Anna Shulman, and her sister, Minnie Wolfe. They are, of course, long gone. But recently, on a cold day in Waterloo, Ontario, they came to life – if only for a couple hours.
By a matter of luck or perhaps by some other force not visible to me, the two women have been close to one another for several months now. As it turns out, both of these women, born as Minnie and Anna Markovitz in Belarus (then White Russia) in the early 1880s, have great-great-grandsons studying in Waterloo. Zachary Posner is at Wilfred Laurier University and his cousin, Jeremy Chizewer, is at the University of Waterloo.
How did this happen? It was not an accident. Last summer, I chatted by phone with a cousin of mine, a woman who is five months older than me. I have known her for over 75 years. This woman is Linda Chizewer, grandmother to Jeremy. The connection is Linda’s grandmother, Minnie Markovitz Wolf, who was a sister to my grandmother, Anna Markovitz Shulman. To look at it another way, my mother, Rhea Shulman Posner, was a first cousin to Ruth Wolf Silverstein, the mother of Linda. With all of that, what was important was that some four generations removed from the original sisters in the old country, later in Iowa City, Iowa and Chicago, Illinois, their respective great-great-grandsons reunited in Waterloo, Ontario in Canada. I did not realize this turn of events was feasible until my cousin Linda mentioned her grandson would be doing advanced mathematics at the U of Waterloo the next year and I added that my grandson would be at Laurier. It was then a plan was hatched.
My wife and I drove to Waterloo, about an hour away from Toronto in early February. The fact that we met in Waterloo was in itself a telling sign. Both of these sisters had relatives in common who lived in Waterloo, only it was Waterloo, Iowa. How coincidental was that fact. After a visit with Zac, now 18, at his dorm, off we went to meet his cousin, a young man of 22, as in Jeremy Chizewer. He had turned down Stanford, Princeton, and other big named colleges to continue in his field of advanced mathematics because of the prominence of the department at Waterloo. I thought he might have selected this university in Waterloo because he could meet his Canadian cousin, but that would be a stretch, even for me.
Zac is in the business program at Laurier. Over a sushi lunch ( something the two sisters Minnie and Anna, could not possibly have envisioned, not even knowing what sushi was) we reviewed the family history and the two women who started the story. In fact, we added another generation as in the mother of these two women: Dina Leah Markovitz. That my sister and Jeremy’s grandmother are both named Linda, named in fact for Dina Leah, is no fluke.
So what to make of this reunion? Initially I thought this time with two boys meeting would only be a satisfying time for me, but I was wrong. The two boys seemed to grasp the historical significance of this rather rare connection of descendants four times removed. And, they hit it off as well. My Baba Anna Shulman and her sister Minnie would have savoured this moment as would have my mother and her first cousin Ruth – with whom she was very close. They were not physically present to do so. My cousin Linda was overjoyed at the meeting as was I ,and so we made up for the absent generations.
One of my sons likes to chide me about searching out family and trying to get answers to all of my questions about our family ancestry. He says even if I had all the answers, how would any of that advance his career? All true, and yet this meeting of descendants of generations past made me sleep better that night.
Features
100-year-old Lil Duboff still taking life one day at a time
By MYRON LOVE Last march, Lil Duboff celebrated her 100th birthday in a low key manner.
“I have always been a laid back kind of person,” says the Shaftesbury retirement home resident. “I just celebrated with my family.”
Lil Duboff’s life journey began in Russia in 1925. “I was six months old when we came to Winnipeg,” she says. “Most of my extended family had come before. We were supposed to leave Russia at the same time, but my mother was pregnant with me and my parents waited until after I was born.”
The former Lil Portnoy, the daughter of Hy and Pessie, grew up the youngest of five siblings in a large and loving family in the old north end Jewish community. Upon his arrival in Winnipeg, her father, Hy, joined his father, Jack, and his brothers, Nathan and Percy, in the family business, Perth’s Cleaners, which was established in 1914.
Following the education path of most Jewish Winnipeggers in the period between the wars and into the 1950s, Duboff started her schooling at Peretz School – although she attended William Whyte School for most of her elementary schooling, supplemented by evening classes at Peretz School – followed by Aberdeen School and St. John’s Tech for high school.
The family, she recalls, belonged to the Beth Jacob Synagogue on Selkirk Avenue.
After completing high school, Duboff took a business course and joined the workforce. She first worked at Perth’s, then Stall’s, and lastly, Silpit Industries – which was owned by Harry Silverberg. (Harry Silverberg was one of the wealthier individuals in our community and a community leader who contributed generously to our communal institutions.)
It was while working at Silpit Industries that Lil Portnoy met Nathan Duboff. “Nathan worked in the shipping department,” she recalls. “We dated for three or four years before getting married.”
They wed in 1953 at the Hebrew Sick Hall on Selkirk Avenue. The bride was pregnant soon after and quit work to look after her family. The couple had three children: Chuck, Neil and Cynthia.
The family lived in the Garden City area. While Nathan continued to work for Harry Silverberg for a time – at his Brown and Rutherford lumber business, he later moved to Portage Lumber as sales manager, and then Dominion Lumber, finally retiring as sales manager for McDermot Lumber in 1995.
During those years Lil did what many married Jewish women did and put her time in as a volunteer with different Jewish organizations. She served as president of the Chevra Mishnayes Congregation sisterhood and the ORT chapter to which she belonged. She also volunteered with B’nai B’rith Women and Jewish Child and Family Service.
Her leisure activities included playing mahjong with friends and enjoying – with Nathan – the ballet and the symphony. There were also all the holiday gatherings with the extended family and summers spent at the family cottage in Gimli.
In the mid-1980s, Lil and Nathan sold their Garden City home and moved to a condo on Cambridge in the south end. After Nathan’s sudden passing in 2003, Lil continued living at Cambridge Towers until three years ago when her declining physical health required her to move into assisted living at the Shaftesbury.
While Lil Duboff suffers from many of the complaints of old age, such as limited eyesight and hearing, and other health issues, she retains a clear and positive frame of mind. She appreciates that her children all still live in Winnipeg and visit frequently. She happily reports that she also has five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.
“It’s different living here (at the Shaftesbury),” she observes. “I don’t see as many people as I used to. But I am accepting my limitations and take life one day at a time. You never know what tomorrow might bring.”
Features
The First Time: A Memoir
By DAVID R. TOPPER Nearly every life has a series of “first times,” no matter how long or short one lives. The first day of school, or the first bicycle – these quickly come to mind. Probably because of the deep and wide reading I’ve been doing for a story I wrote, I recalled another “first” in my life. It came to me with the same chill up my spine as on the day it happened. And that was long ago.
I’m now into my early 80s and this event is from the late 1960s when I was finishing my PhD, which required that I pass a second language test. It was the last essential test, since I was finishing up my dissertation. In the early 1960s, as an undergraduate, I had taken German for the language requirement and naturally I opted for German for the graduate requirement too. Relevant here is the fact that of all the undergraduate courses I took, the only subject for which I had poor grades was – you guessed it? – German, where I got less than As and Bs.
On the day appointed, I walked across campus to the German department and took the test. The task was to translate a page of text. I can’t recall the content or anything about it. But the result was sent to me and – I suppose not surprisingly – I didn’t pass. I was informed that I could make an appointment with a member of the department to go over the test and to get some tutoring to help me prepare for another try.
But where is the “first in my life” that this memoir is all about? As said above, I only recently recalled this “first.” The trigger was a newscast that Yale University professor Timothy Snyder was moving to the University of Toronto because of the recent presidential elections in the USA. This caught my attention because his monumental book, Black Earth, on the Holocaust in the shtetls of Eastern Europe during World War II, was so crucial to that story I wrote. Thus, my subconscious kicked in and that newscast led me back to when I met the tutor.
Frankly, I don’t remember much about that day. Not the time of year, or the weather. Except that I again walked across campus, this time to meet my German tutor. Even so, I only remember three things about the tutor – beyond the fact that it was woman. She was much older than me and she spoke with a thick accent.
We sat at a table, she to my left, and in front of us on the table was my translation sheet covered with corrections in red; the original German text was beside it, to the right. Slowly she went over my translation, pointing out my mistakes. I sat, focusing on what I did wrong and listening to her suggestions for what I should have done – when, for a brief moment, she reached across my sheet to point to a German word in the original text. With her left hand and her bare arm right in front of me – I saw something on the underside of that arm.
At the time, I knew about this. I had read about it. But back in the late 1960s I had never seen it for real – in the flesh. Really. Yes, “in the flesh” isn’t a metaphor. Indeed, I’m getting the same chill now just thinking about it, as I did when I saw it – for the first time.
On the inside of that arm, she had a tattoo – a very simple tattoo – just a five-digit number. Nothing else.
I was so rattled by this that I couldn’t focus on what she was saying anymore. The tattoo blurred out much of everything else for the rest of the day.
Fortunately, this happened near the end of our meeting, and I apparently absorbed enough of her help so that when I did take the test the second time – I passed. And here I am: a retired professor after many years of teaching.
Even today, that first tattoo is still seared in my mind. Oh, and that’s the third thing I’ll always remember about the tutor who helped me pass that key test on the road to my PhD.
Features
Japanese Straightening/Hair Rebonding at SETS on Corydon
Japanese Straightening is a hair straightening process invented in Japan that has swept America.
