Walk into a casino in Canada today, and you’ll still see the flashing lights, hear the hum of slot machines, and feel the excitement in the air. But something is different. The crowds aren’t as big as they used to be. The energy, while still there, doesn’t quite match what it once was. And outside those walls? A whole different kind of casino industry is booming—one that exists entirely online.

The gambling world has changed fast, and land-based casinos are scrambling to keep up. The truth is, that people don’t need to leave their homes to enjoy their favorite games anymore. In just a few clicks, they can log into an online casino, play thousands of games, bet on sports, and withdraw their winnings instantly. The convenience, the variety, and the accessibility of online gambling have left traditional casinos in a tough spot.

The Digital Revolution

Here’s the kicker—this shift isn’t just about convenience. It’s also about privacy, speed, and flexibility, things that modern players value more than ever.

According to Liliana Costache, the rise of no-KYC casinos proves this trend. These platforms let players sign up and play without submitting personal documents, offering total anonymity and other convenient perks like streamlined registrations, unique bonuses, and instant withdrawals. (source: https://www.pokerscout.com/casino/no-kyc-casinos/).

For a lot of gamblers, that’s a game-changer. No long verification processes, no waiting around—just straight-up gaming, whenever and wherever they want. So where does this leave land-based casinos? Are they heading toward extinction, or can they evolve and stay relevant in an increasingly digital world?

Why Players Are Ditching the Drive

Not too long ago, if you wanted to gamble in Canada, you had to make a trip to a casino. Maybe it was an exciting weekend getaway to Niagara Falls or a quick visit to a local gaming spot. Either way, the experience meant dressing up, traveling, and spending money not just on gambling, but also on food, gas, drinks, and entertainment. It was an event.

However, today, that experience is optional. Online casinos have made it ridiculously easy to gamble from anywhere. Whether you’re on the couch, waiting in line at a coffee shop, or even lying in bed, the casino is right there on your phone. No dress code, no travel time, no waiting for a seat at a poker table—just instant access to thousands of games.

And that’s not even the biggest reason people are flocking to online gambling. The real draw is what these platforms offer: massive game selections, crazy welcome bonuses, loyalty rewards, and flexible payment options. As crypto becomes more mainstream, cryptocurrency, e-wallets, instant withdrawals – you name it, online casinos have it. Compare that to land-based venues, where payouts can take hours and options are limited, and it’s easy to see why more players are making the switch.

Another factor that’s made online gambling explode in Canada is the sheer aggressiveness of marketing. If you’ve watched sports in the past year, you’ve probably noticed the flood of gambling ads. Hockey broadcasts are packed with odds, betting promos, and celebrity endorsements. Online gambling companies have gone all-in on advertising, and it’s working.

Land-based casinos? Not so much. Their marketing efforts don’t have the same reach or appeal, especially for younger players who live on their phones.

The Struggles of Traditional Casinos: Can They Survive?

It’s not that land-based casinos are dying. However, they are struggling. And it’s not just because of online competition. A whole list of problems is making it harder for them to thrive.

First, foot traffic is declining. Younger generations simply aren’t as drawn to physical casinos. They prefer digital experiences, fast transactions, and games that feel interactive. Walking into a casino, pulling a lever on a slot machine, or sitting at a blackjack table doesn’t have the same appeal as it did for previous generations.

Then there’s the cost of running a casino. Physical locations come with massive expenses, which include staff salaries, utilities, maintenance, and security, just to name a few. Online casinos don’t have to worry about any of that. They operate with far fewer costs, which means they can offer better bonuses, higher payouts, and a much wider selection of games.

On top of that, government regulations are getting stricter. New advertising rules are banning casinos from using athletes or celebrities in their ads, which could hit traditional casinos harder than online operators. They already struggle with marketing, and now their options are even more limited.

And let’s not forget about payment restrictions. While online casinos are pushing forward with cryptocurrency and instant transactions, land-based casinos are still largely cash-based. This is another area where they’re falling behind.

The Social and Psychological Edge of Digital Gambling

One of the biggest advantages of online gambling is how seamlessly it fits into modern lifestyles. Traditional casinos offer an exciting, high-energy environment, but they also come with limitations, like long drives, crowded floors, and fixed operating hours. Online casinos, on the other hand, put the entire gambling experience in the palm of your hand, allowing players to jump into a game anytime, anywhere. This level of flexibility is something land-based venues simply can’t match.

Beyond convenience, digital gambling platforms are revolutionizing how players interact with casino games. The rise of live dealer games has brought a social element to online play that was once exclusive to physical casinos.

With high-definition video streaming, real-time chat features, and professional dealers, players can enjoy the thrill of a real casino without leaving home. Some platforms even let players interact with each other, making the experience more engaging and immersive.

How Land-Based Casinos Can Fight Back

If traditional casinos want to stay relevant, they can’t just sit back and hope for the best. They need to reinvent themselves, and fast.

One way to do that is by turning casinos into full-blown entertainment destinations. Think high-end restaurants, concerts, nightclubs, and even esports arenas. If gambling alone isn’t enough to bring people in, offering an experience that goes beyond the casino floor might do the trick.

Some casinos are also going hybrid, blending online and offline gambling. For example, live dealer games streamed directly from real casino floors let online players participate in real time. Others are developing mobile apps that allow players to track their rewards and transition seamlessly between digital and in-person gambling.

Another area where land-based casinos could step up is embracing AI and technology. AI can personalize promotions, analyze player behavior, and even help with security. Virtual reality is another exciting possibility. Imagine stepping into a fully immersive digital casino from the comfort of your home while still interacting with real dealers and other players. It’s futuristic, sure, but not as far off as it seems.

Some casinos are even considering cryptocurrency integration, which would allow for faster, more secure transactions. If they can tap into the crypto market, they might be able to attract younger, tech-savvy players who prefer decentralized payments over traditional banking.

The bottom line is that land-based casinos can’t afford to stay the same. If they want to survive, they need to evolve, innovate, and find ways to offer something that online casinos can’t replicate.

What’s Next for Canada’s Casinos?

The future of land-based casinos in Canada isn’t set in stone. While they still have a place in the gambling world, their dominance is fading as online platforms continue to take over. The days of players driving long distances to a casino when they can access everything on their phones are quickly coming to an end.

That doesn’t mean land-based casinos are doomed. But they do need to change. They need to go beyond gambling and create entire experiences that make the trip worthwhile. They also need to embrace technology, integrate digital elements, and appeal to younger audiences who crave fast, interactive, and flexible gaming.

By BERNIE BELLAN Artificial insemination has been around for a very long time. “The first documented application of artificial insemination in humans was done in London in the 1770s by John Hunter,” says an article from The National Library of Medicine. Sperm banks were first developed in the 1950s.
In the 1970s the University of Manitoba Medical School began an artificial insemination program under the direction of Dr. Jeremy Kredentser.
According to an article in the November 3, 1985 Winnipeg Free Press, “about 100 to 120 couples a year” were being seen in that program, said Dr. Kredentser at the time.
The article went on to explain that “Donor sperm is collected from carefully screened donors such as doctors, medical students and others associated with the U of M.”
Under the rules of that program donors were allowed to submit a maximum of 25 sperm donations – which meant any children who were born as a result of artificial insemination from the program could have quite a few half brothers or sisters.
That program actually was the forerunner of what is now the Heartland Fertility Clinic, where Dr. Kredentser practised and was a director for many years.

But, just as is the case with many individuals who have found out later in life that they were adopted, many individuals who have been fathered by anonymous sperm donors want to know about their actual biological ancestry.
In the past few years, as a result of increasingly sophisticated DNA testing, many of those individuals have been able to discover, not only a great deal of information about their ancestry, but very specific information about relatives about whom they would likely never have known.
Such was the case with one young Winnipeg man, who will be referred to in this article simply as T, not because he insisted on anonymity, but because we wanted to take steps to protect the identities of his siblings and, more importantly, his biological father, whose identity was discovered by T through a process of sleuthing. To this point, T notes, despite his fairly recent attempt to reach out to his biological father, he has not received a response.

We had been made aware of T’s story by a mutual acquaintance. When I heard though that T had discovered he was “49% Ashkenazi Jewish” I thought that his story of discovery might make for a fascinating read – if he was willing to share it.
Not only was T extremely forthcoming in telling me his story, he was eager to have it written about. HIs hope is that his biological father might also become aware of this story and come to the realization that T’s motivation in attempting to make contact with him – as it often is with children who have discovered they have been adopted, is not at all malicious; it is a mixture of curiosity, also a desire to learn whether there are any genetic traits about which they should become aware.

A’s story begins in December 2021. What began largely as a lark turned into something quite unexpected. T explains that he and his wife wanted to take DNA tests – not for any particular reason, simply out of curiosity.
T and his wife decided to register on a site called “23andMe,” where all you have to do is send in a DNA sample (from your saliva) for testing. If someone else who has also registered on the site – and has allowed their identity to be known to individuals who turn out to be related, you will receive a notification that you have matches. (The other very popular site that offers a similar service is Ancestry.com.)
In most cases, as T noted, the results will turn up a slew of distant cousins – possibly some closer cousins, but not much more than that.

However, the story took a very unexpected twist – even before T and his wife got their results back. It was late 2021and T’s mother was over to T’s and his soon-to-be wife’s house. T says he told his mother about the DNA test that he and his wife had taken and explained to her – in a joking way he thought, that “we were gonna make sure we’re not related.”
But, his mother’s reaction took him by surprise, he says. She “showed that she was a little bit agitated.”
T says he wondered whether he was “like, oh God, adopted?”
He continues: “…and then she told me, she divulged that information, she said she was going to tell me sooner than later, but on account of this, you know, the advent of all these DNA kits and stuff, she realized that the writing was on the wall, but you know, when they did it, and …the origins of this, um, fertility company, which was in the mid 80s.” (By “fertility company,” T is referring to the program that had been run at the University of Manitoba Medical School.)

I said to T: “Because in anticipation of what you’re gonna find out, she’s gonna have to break the news after all these years (that she had been artificially inseminated) . Okay. so then how much longer did you have to wait for the results?”
I asked T why his mother had been artificially inseminated? It turns our that her husband – the man T had always believed was his biological father, had had a vasectomy prior to T’s mother marrying him – and T’s mother desperately wanted to have a child.

T explains that the results came back quite quickly – only a month later.
As T describes it, “I’m dying to find out. We’ve rolled the dice here. So we’re waiting to hear what’s going to happen. I don’t know. I had no idea about the Ashkenazi Jewish thing. Back then, I had no idea about any siblings.”
Something else should be explained at this point. T’s mother was married fairly late in life – to a man who had been previously married, and who had two sons from his previous marriage – who are 20 years older than T. As T says, “I was pretty excited because I’ve always wanted, you know, a brother or sister, but my own age.” And here was his chance to discover that he did have another sibling, maybe more than one – much closer to his own age.

The results of A’s DNA test came back from 23andMe with the revelation that T was 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. Further, as T says, “only one sibling is showing, and then like a million cousins. Like, second, second, third, distant cousins at that point.” (It should be explained that not only do 23andMe and Ancestry.com provide names of relatives whose genetic profiles match – at least somewhat, they provide pictures as well.)
But, as T says, the results showed “nobody who looks like me, no names I recognize. And a lot of the distant cousins are presumably on the paternal side. So it’s like a lot of Jewish names in New York.”
Yet, there was a sibling – a half sister (whose name will not be revealed), but who didn’t live in Winnipeg any more. Still, T reached out to her and the half sister revealed to T that she had known since she was 15 that she was the product of artificial insemination, but nothing more than that.

Another year rolls by – it’s now 2022 and suddenly T and his half sister are informed by 23andMe that they have another half brother – who lives in Winnipeg, and who’s a year younger than T.
T and his new half brother connect. As T says, “he’s like 10 minutes away from me…but the weirdest part about this is like, I can’t find any connection with him in Winnipeg, which is weird because we’re lifelong Winnipeggers and it takes, you know how it is, it takes no time at all to find a Winnipeg connection, right?”
But A’s new half brother also tells T and the half sister that he had only recently tried 23andMe because he had been on Ancestry.com – but it hadn’t yielded any close matches. However, in 2023, after the new half brother is introduced to T and the other half sister, the new half brother receives a notification from Ancestry.com that they’ve reviewed his DNA results again – and this time they’ve found three new half sisters – all of whom live in Winnipeg!
It turns out that each of those half sisters had been aware they were the products of artificial insemination. There turns out to be one more half brother – who doesn’t live in Winnipeg – bringing the total of known siblings to seven. As T notes, however, there could be as many as 18 more siblings!

Okay, so now we know T has six siblings, and they’re all 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. How does that lead to T’s discovering who the sperm donor was?
At this point I have to be very careful not to get too specific, out of concern that identities that should remain anonymous are not divulged.
It turns out though that someone else had been on Ancestry.com – but later it emerges that the reason this person would have been on Ancestry.com was that she was a Holocaust survivor, likely looking for long lost relatives who had been separated by World War II.
This woman had reached out to one of T’s half sisters and asks her whether she is a cousin. The half sister responds: “No, I’m your granddaughter.”
Apparently, according to T, finding that out likely “spooked” the Holocaust survivor, and she “ghosted” T’s half sister. T says her “profile disappeared and has not been heard from since.”
(By way of explanation, when Ancestry.com reports a match, it indicates the level of closeness between two individuals. e.g., a parent or a child will be identified as a parent or child; a grandparent, grandchild or sibling will be identified as “immediate family. T’s half sister discovered that she had a paternal grandmother. She didn’t know that this woman was a Holocaust survivor immediately.)
T’s half brother – who had been on both Ancestry.com and 23andMe, did inform T of their paternal grandmother’s name – in 2023. It turns out that the other three half sisters, along with A’s half brother – all of whom had been on Ancestry.com, and who had found each other on Ancestry.com, had also done some digging on their own.
One of the half sisters was told about a book titled “Stories of Winnipeg Holocaust Survivors,” which was compiled by Belle Jarniewski, currently Executive Director of the Jewish Heritage Centre of Western Canada. (At the time Belle was known as Belle Milo, which is the name given on the cover of the book.)
There is a chapter in the book devoted to the story of the Holocaust survivor who had reached out to the half sister. In that chapter the names of the woman’s children are given. It didn’t take too long for that half sister to deduce which of the women’s children would have been the sperm donor. She shared that information with her two other half sisters in Winnipeg – but none of them made any attempt to contact their biological father.

(By the way, once T revealed his paternal grandmother’s name to me I did find some references to her in the Jewish Post archives that are accessible on jewishpostandnews.ca. One of those references included the names of her children. It turns out that I knew one of those children from chlldhood.)

Once T was informed by his half brother in Winnipeg of their paternal grandmother’s name, but without having learned that the three Winnipeg half sisters actually knew who their biological father was, he began his own search online for information about the Holocaust survivor who was their paternal grandmother.
He didn’t turn anything up until he, too, discovered the same book, “Stories of Winnipeg Holocaust Survivors, ” that had been key to one of his half sisters discovering who their biological father was.
As T says, “I found the book online, read it, and I found the (children’s) names. And then I looked up her (son’s name). And after a half an hour I found, like, the timeline for (son’s name).” and the timeline for this particular individual and what he would have been doing in 1985, which is when T’s mother was artificially inseminated, fit perfectly.

T says that once “I figured out who the guy was, I found a picture, and I’m like, okay, this man looks like me, this is the guy, and then once I started connecting with the other sisters, they all confirmed that, in fact, was the guy.”
But, before attempting to reach out to their biological father, T wanted to make sure that each of the other siblings was on board with what he was attempting to do. As he says, “At this point, before I reached out to the donor, I wanted to make sure that I had consent from everybody else.”
A received everyone’s permission and T proceeded to write a hand-written letter to their biological father, which he sent in March 2024. As A says, “I get the guy’s address. And I decide that I, like, I really want to reach out I’m just dying of curiosity. Nobody else has (reached out) yet. I don’t understand why. And I’m like, okay. So I write him a handwritten letter that basically just introduced like who I am and that we understand that we might have a connection to him We’re grateful for him.

“And if he has any interest in contacting us, here’s how we can be contacted But otherwise, we’re not going to bug you. The ball’s in your court. We have no interest in ransacking your life because at the end of the day, we’re all grateful for, you know, what you’ve done for us, and we all have great lives, and thank you, that kind of thing.” To this point T says he has not received any response.

Something I wondered about – and what I’m sure you’re also wondering about, is the revelation that the genetic make-up that T and each of his siblings is carrying is 49% Ashkenazi Jewish. I wondered whether finding that out has made any difference in the lives of T and his siblings?
In fact, the answer – if T and his siblings are truthful, is that it hasn’t made any difference at all. T says he “grew up in the United Church,” but doesn’t consider himself religious. Perhaps somewhat ironically, T says that “half of my friends are Ashkenazi Jewish guys.” In fact, he’s very familiar with Jewish culture and has been to the Shaarey Zedek Synagogue many times. (I should note that the person who put me on to this story is Jewish and has known T for years.)
There are many other twists to T’s story – about how closely connected he is to so many aspects of Jewish life, but again – for the sake of confidentiality I won’t reveal them here. Suffice to say that T could very easily immerse himself into the Jewish community here without missing a beat – if that’s what he chose to do.
As for his siblings – well, that’s a different story. T says that finding out they had Jewish genes seemed more like a matter of curiosity to them than anything particularly important to their sense of identity. One should bear in mind that many of the individuals who go on to sites like Ancestry.com or 23andMe find out very surprising things about their ancestry, but it hardly changes their own concept of who they are.
T, though, looks upon the revelation that he’s half Jewish with a certain sense of bemusement, but also an explanation for some aspects of his own identity. As he says, “I think it makes me more interesting, and honestly, when I look in the mirror, and what I’m seeing is like, my physiology is turning into a frumpy old Jewish man. My dad (or at least the man T thought was his dad and who raised him) is, like, 6’2. My brothers are 6’1; they’re tall.”

T says though that he has “freckles and a skinny Adam’s apple. And I’m, like: ‘Why do I look like any of these (Jewish) guys (who are his friends)? So, anyway, it just, it clicks, it makes a lot more sense for me. It really helps, it helps me kind of make a little… a piece of the whole situation.”
But there are other aspects to T’s past that are more troublesome. He’s had some issues that might have been inherited – as does one of his brothers. T says that “I’d love to just talk to this guy for an hour. See what he’s like, you know, see if he’s musical,” for instance.
I say to T: “I’m not interested in outing him. You know, if he wants to remain anonymous, let him remain anonymous, but maybe he’ll have second thoughts about it. If someone happens to contact him and says, ‘Hey, uh, we read this story or we heard about a story – and it might be you they’re talking about in the story’.” After all, there must have a fair number of men who donated their sperm in that University of Manitoba Medical School program back in the 1970s and 80s. Wouldn’t some of them be curious to learn what the results were from their donations?
Of course, there have been stories about children of women who were artificially inseminated who have gone after the sperm donors. As T concedes, “I kind of assume his reticence kind of lies in that very kind of thing. There’s a whole bunch of Netflix specials that have come out, and there’s some movies over the last ten years, and I’ve watched all of them.”
Still, despite the assurances that men like T’s biological father who donated their sperm may have received that their identities would remain anonymous, advances in genetic testing have shown that those assurances have been made moot. If it were up to me I’d want to own up to my having provided the sperm that ended up helping to produce a child. Otherwise, now that T’s father has received the information that his identity is known to at least seven of the children that he was responsible for fathering, he’s going to have to live with the possibility that one of those children may show up on his doorstep one day.

One final note about this story: T tells me that he and his six known siblings are all on good terms and communicate with one another. In fact, they all had a get-together this past summer where many of them met each other for the first time. I’d have liked to refer to is a reunion – but that would be a misnomer. How about calling it a “kum zeets,” which is the Israeli term for a get together?

By MYRON LOVE As with many people I have interviewed over the years, Shira Newman’s life journey towards her present stage as Rady JCC Coordinator of Arts & Older Adult Programming has encompassed a range of different areas, including: fine arts, filmmaking and teaching stints, working at the Society of Manitobans with Disabilities, and the Women’s Health Clinic and, most recently before coming to the Rady JCC, the Prairie Fusion Arts and Entertainment Centre (as program co-ordinator) in Portage La Prairie.
The daughter of Joan and the late Paul Newman began her life in River Heights.  After graduation from Grant Park, she enrolled in Fine Arts at the University of Manitoba.  In addition to painting and drawing, she took a course in film – and found that she really enjoyed it.
“I learned a lot about the art that goes into filmmaking,” she recalls.  “We watched foreign films and independent films. I fell in love with the ideas of creating this three-dimensiomal world on the screen.”
After earning her first degree at the University of Manitoba, Newman worked for a few years at the aforementioned Women’s Health Clinic and the Society for Manitobans with Disabilities before returning – in her mid-20s – to university, this time Concordia in Montreal – to study filmmaking full time. 
After completing the two year program Newman returned to Winnipeg and became involved with the Winnipeg Film Group and the Winnipeg film community.
Over the next few years, she taught filmmaking in Winnipeg School Division No. 1, and also began to get work  in our city’s booming film production industry, working in set design and costuming..
Her big break came when she was asked by local filmmaker Sean Garrity to serve as script supervisor on one of his movies.
(According to Wikipedia,  a script supervisor oversees the continuity of the motion picture, including dialogue and action during a scene. The script supervisor may also be called upon to ensure wardrobe, props, set dressing, hair, and makeup are consistent from scene to scene. The script supervisor keeps detailed notes on each take of the scene being filmed. The notes recorded by the script supervisor during the shooting of a scene are used to help the editor cut the scenes together in the order specified in the shooting script. They are also responsible for keeping track of the film production unit’s daily progress.)
“I knew Sean’s films and was excited that he asked to me to work with him,” Newman recalls.
That job led to many other assignments as a script supervisor over the next ten years. “I worked on a lot of Hallmark Movies being shot here as well as some Lifetime features,” she says.
The last movie shot in Winnipeg that Newman worked on was in 2018. It was called “Escaping the Madhouse: the Nellie Bly Story”.
It was about that time that Newman felt that she needed a change in direction.  “Making a movie is a world in itself,” she observes, “but the work isn’t steady.  I decided that I needed something more stable.”
Thus, she responded to an ad for a coordinator at the Prairie Fusion Centre in Portage. The Centre, she notes, has a gallery, a store and classes. She was responsible for educational programming.
Newman stayed at the Prairie Fusion Centre for a year – commuting every day from Winnipeg.  Then she saw the Rady JCC ad calling for a Coordinator for Arts and Older Adult Programming.
“It was a perfect fit for me,” she says.
Newman is now in her fourth year at the Rady JCC.  One of the first programs she introduced was a new social club for seniors – replacing the former Stay Young Club which had been disbanded some years before due to flagging attendance.
Club programs are Mondays at 11:00. “We have guest speakers and musical programs and we celebrate all the holidays,” Newman notes.
Last year, Newman introduced a new Yiddish Festival – picking up where the former Mamaloshen left off.  “While studying filmmaking, I developed an appreciation  for the 1930s Yiddish cinema,” she reports.  “In recent years, there has been a revival of interest in Yiddish culture, music and literature.”
For the first “Put a Yid in it Festival of new Yiddish Culture,” Newman brought in younger performers in the persons of ”Beyond the Pale”, a Toronto-based klezmer band that also performs Romanian and Balkan music – and, from Montreal, Josh Dolgin, aka Socalled – a rap artist and record producer who combines hip hop, klezmer and folk music.
“We had the concert at the West End Cultural Centre.” Newman reports. “We had a great crowd with people of all ages, including kids.”
For this second upcoming Yidfdish festival at the beginning of February, Newman is organizing three concerts featuring klezmer group “Schmaltz and Pepper” from Toronto;  “Forshpil”, a Yiddish and klezmer band from Latvia; and live music to accompany a 1991 movie called “The Man Without a World” – a recreation of a 1920s silent movie set in a  Polish shtetl.
This year’s festival will also include three movies and two speakers.  Among the movies is “The Jester”.  Co-directed by Joseph Green and Jan Nowina-Przybylski – who also made “Yiddle with His Fiddle” in 1936, “The Jester” is a musical drama involving a love triangle featuring a wandering jester, a charismatic vaudeville performer, and Esther, the shoemaker’s daughter, torn between her family’s desire for a prominent match and her own dreams.
“Yiddishland”,  by Australian Director Ros Horin,  focuses on the art and practices of a diverse group of innovative international artists who create new works about the important issues of our time in the Yiddish language, why they create in Yiddish, what it means to them personally and professionally, and what obstacles they must overcome to revive what was once considered a dying language..
“Mamele” is described as “a timeless masterpiece, brought to life by Molly Picon, the legendary Pixie Queen of the Yiddish Musical.  Picon shines as a devoted daughter who keeps her family together after the loss of their mother. Caught between endless responsibilities and her own dreams, her world changes when she discovers a charming violinist across the courtyard. Set in the vibrant backdrop of Lodz, this enchanting musical comedy-drama immerses audiences in the rich diversity of interwar Jewish life in Poland – featuring everything from pious communities to nightclubs, gangsters and spirited ‘nogoodnicks’’.”
The speaking presentation will nclude a talk by the University of Manitoba Yiddish teacher Professor Itay Zutra “exploring the resilience and survival of Yiddish art, from S. Ansky’s The Dybbuk to the demons of I.B. Singer, through the trauma of the Holocaust and beyond.”
There will also be a panel discussion highlighting the pivotal experience of the Jewish community in the 1919 Winnipeg General Strike, with a focus on Yiddish-speaking organizations and newspapers.
Back in late October, Newman organized our community’s first JFest – a celebration of Jewish Culture and the Arts – which highlighted the works of seven local Jewish artists.  She reports that the art exhibit was well attended.
She also mentions ongoing Rady JCC programs such as the long-running “Music and Mavens” and the annual Jewish Film Festival.
Returning to the subject of filmmaking, Newman has been a film programmer for the Gimli International Film Festival for the last four years. (The first years, she says, she served as the shorts programmer and the last three as the documentary film programmer.)
She adds that her first short film, “The Blessing,” which she made when she returned to Winnipeg from Montreal, was shown at various festivals, including the Toronto International Jewish Film Festival.It was also shown here in Winnipeg at the Winnipeg Jewish International Film Festival where it won the award here for “best short film by an  emerging or established local filmmaker.”
In her spare time, Newman reports, she has embarked on a new project.   “I am working on a documentary about Monarch butterflies and the community of people who are dedicated to preserving them. These are regular people who have become citizen scientists.  I am working with a  friend whose zaida was a biology teacher and instilled in his family a love of nature and conservation.  I have met people who have gone to Mexico to see for themselves where the butterflies spend their winters.”
Newman is anticipating that the new documentary will be completed within a year.