Features
Canada’s Oldest Siblings: Three Bodies, One Heart, and a Set of Lungs
By CAROL SEVITT (This article first appeared in The Globe & Mail. Reprinted with permission.) My mother and her siblings, all Holocaust survivors, might just be the oldest siblings in Canada. Amazingly, they have spent nearly all their lives together.
At 99, 98, 96, and 94 they make a formidable quartet. There are three sisters – Sally Singer, 99, Anne Novak, 98 (my mother), and Ruth Zimmer, 94 – and a brother Sol Fink, 96. Sally’s 100th birthday is around the corner in late November, and the others aren’t far behind.
“A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves — a special kind of double,” wrote author Toni Morrison. In the case of my mother and her two sisters, it’s a special kind of triple, or as I see it, “three bodies and one heart.” Despite their different temperaments, they think and act alike. When one sister installed central air conditioning, the others followed. When they went on holidays, they went to the same place together. When one sister bought her first fur coat or string of pearls, so did the others. When one got her first microwave or food processor, so did her sisters. When one stopped colouring her hair, it was only months before the others went grey too. Even now they go to the same doctor, dentist, insurance agent, and financial planner. They use the same face cream and take most of the same medication. They bought the same jewellery and raincoat. They eat the same breakfast and watch the same TV shows (“The Bachelor” is a longtime favourite).
Their brother Sol carved out his own niche. After selling the grocery store he ran with his brother-in-law, he was a shoichet (ritual slaughterer) until he was 85. Throughout his life he chanted Torah and worked as the cantor at a small North End Winnipeg synagogue. He led prayers until he was 95, with Covid protocols putting an end to that. An article written about him a few years ago called him Canada’s oldest working cantor. Growing up with three sisters, whom he still calls the “maidlach” (girls), he learned how to treat women well. With natural mechanical ability, he was always there to do home repairs for them.
The four siblings spent their youth in Sanok, Poland, near the Carpathian Mountains. There were two boys in the family (the youngest Eli perished in the Holocaust), but the sisters were a unit unto themselves. As girls, one was bookish and organized, one was sweet and a peacemaker (my mother), and one was a comedian with a rebellious spirit – traits they have retained throughout their lives.
They were teenagers when the Nazis stormed into Poland – the start of the darkest period of their lives. Although being transported to a Siberian labour camp was traumatic, it was the reason behind their survival. The family spent the war years enduring bitter hardships in Russia, facing hunger and deprivation, but being together somehow made it bearable. The horror of having one brother and 80 relatives exterminated by the Nazis made the siblings hang onto each other even more.
After the war, like most Holocaust survivors, the sisters started making up for lost time. While in a DP camp in Germany, my mother and her older sister got married just 10 days apart. They even wore the same wedding dress. The family joke was that there were cookies left over from Sally’s wedding, so my mother had to get married right afterwards. Naturally, they both got pregnant and had daughters just nine months apart (I am one of those daughters). The youngest sister married a year later and promptly had a child to provide me with another cousin. Sol married a few years later and produced four more musically talented cousins.
After the war, the family emigrated to Winnipeg, and of course lived walking distance from each other. As immigrants, the siblings and their spouses faced many challenges – finding work, learning English, and adapting to the Canadian way of life. But they were young and hard-working, and before long, they bought homes and cars. When my mother got her driver’s license, her sisters quickly followed. My mother gave up driving less than a year ago, and misses her car every day.
Years went by, the families grew, and still the siblings stuck together. Although they each had friends outside the family, their core friendships were with each other.
Having faced hunger during the war, food became one of life’s big pleasures, and not surprisingly the sisters all cooked the same wonderful dishes. As a testament to their culinary skills, my Auntie Ruthie (the comedian) starred in the pilot episode of a grandmother cooking show on television called “Loving Spoonfuls”. My aunt may be famous for making chicken soup and pierogies on TV, but her recipe is the same as her sisters’. Because they think and act alike (three bodies and one heart), if one said she was cooking borscht, blintzes or knishes, the others invariably would do the same.
In their 50s, the sisters ran a coffee shop inside the Jewish nursing home, serving delicious homemade soups, burgers and sandwiches to staff and visitors. No arguments about how to prepare the food, as they all share the same European recipes and love nothing better than feeding a crowd.
Another common denominator is their desire to have fun. Whether it be writing and performing skits and songs, dressing up in costumes, imitating quirky family member or celebrities, or telling off colour jokes, they make each other howl.
In their seventies, it became difficult for the sisters to remain in their homes. My parents moved to a condo first. A year later, the condo unit on my mother’s left became available and her younger sister bought it. Soon, the condo on her right was up for sale and – you guessed it – the older sister bought it. When my cousins and I came to visit from out of town, it was a moveable party as we went from apartment to apartment, (even in our pj’s) enjoying the company, cooking, and wisecracks.
In her eighties, my mother entered the digital world where she loves to check Facebook, send emails, surf the web, and check out YouTube (especially Yiddish cantorial music). She was the digital star until her younger sister got an iPad a few months later.
All three sisters are now widows, but because the trio is together, life is not lonely. Just last year they all sold their condos and moved into an assisted living retirement home. True to form, Ruth is trying to teach the chef how to make tasty pierogies.
Not only are the sisters’ similarities remarkable, they also have the ability to forgive and forget, to smooth things out when there’s an issue, and to lift each other’s moods when a dark cloud descends. Despite devastating personal losses – three of the four have lost an adult child, all the husbands have died, they lost a young brother, their home and relatives in Poland — their outlook remains remarkably positive. At 98, my mother says, “Hitler stole 10 years from me, so I am actually only 88”. Whether in defiance of Hitler or simply thanks to their unique circumstances, all the siblings are alive and kicking.
From my mother, aunts and uncle I have learned many life lessons — to treasure family, celebrate every milestone, cook excellent dishes, and forgive small transgressions. Because my aunts are so close to me, I feel privileged to have three “mothers” who never miss the opportunity to tell me they love me, but not before telling me the latest joke. I also have the privilege of an outstanding uncle who does daily workouts or swims, can fix anything, and uplifts a congregation with his prayer and song.
If I have their genes, I will be lucky indeed.
Features
Brain drain affecting Israel could lead to severe economic difficulties
By BERNIE BELLAN (Oct. 27, 2026) As of the time of writing, the future shape of Israel’s Knesset was clear as mud. I always remember one of the most important lessons I learned as a Political Studies student, which is the structure-function relationship of any country’s political system, in which the structure of a country’s system of government determined how stable that country’s government was likely to be.
Are we lucky to be living in a parliamentary democracy – with a first past the post system of government, where it is not that complicated to cobble together a majority government – even if it means sometimes aligning with rival parties to form that majority?
After watching the spiral into authoritarianism now taking place in the U.S. under their fragmented democratic system where an unscrupulous president can appropriate almost unlimited power – unchecked by the toadies on the Supreme Court or members of Congress, I would say we’re so much luckier to be living within a parliamentary system of government.
But, when it comes to total disarray – no one can beat Israel’s system of government, where it is near impossible to put together a stable government unless – following the pattern of so many other formerly democratic countries, an authoritarian leader manages to assert himself and neutralize so many of that country’s democratic institutions – which is what we have seen happening under Netanyahu’s leadership.
I ask all these questions after having read an article on the Times of Israel website back in August, but whose relevance has become only more prominent as a result of Israel’s continual slide into disarray.
We in the West can pretend that Israel, for all its problems, is still a democracy, and that no matter what may be happening there, its citizens still want to live there.
But, after reading the TOI article, which was titled “Emigration of doctors, engineers, other highly educated Israelis hits record high,” one might be forgiven for thinking that Israel’s best and brightest are hurrying to leave their country.
Here are some figures from that story: A “Tel Aviv University report released earlier this week showed a record-setting trend of emigration from Israel continued in 2025, with nearly 50,000 Israelis leaving the country for the third year in a row.”
The article also noted that “High-earning Israelis working in tech and healthcare are emigrating in sharply rising numbers, almost doubling over five years, a new study by the Israel Tax Authority has found.
“The research by the Israel Tax Authority’s Planning and Economics Division, which examined incomes of Israeli emigrants over the past decade, found the rate at which affluent Israelis left the country increased sharply in 2023 and 2024 to record highs, and was almost double what it was until 2019.”
Although I posited that Israel’s political instability is a major reason for the exodus so so many high-income earners, the authors of the study say that it is not altogether clear what is behind the departure of so many talented Israelis: “The authors of the study stated that it was difficult to determine whether this shift in the makeup of emigrants stemmed from major changes that occurred in society and the labor market following the COVID-19 pandemic, or whether it was a reaction to the political upheaval over the judicial overhaul and security events that started with the October 7 onslaught and war in Gaza that have been shaking Israel since 2023.”
One might well ask whether a significant number of other Israelis would also leave the country, were they in an economic position to do so? After all, for many years, here in Manitoba we saw a large influx of Israelis, almost entirely coming from the middle class, who were drawn to come here by a combination of factors, including the GrowWinnipeg initiative – which made it attractive for young Israeli families to look to Winnipeg as a potential landing point, also the Provincial Nominee Program, which offered immigrants opportunities to find employment in areas where Manitoba was short of particular types of workers.
But, what of those high income Israelis to which the TOI article refers? Anecdotally, we have read and heard accounts of highly educated Israelis moving here (and Myron Love has often profiled some of those individuals), but if 150,000 Israelis have left the country, one wonders where they have all gone?
Here are the favourite destinations for Israelis looking to move somewhere else (in order): the U.S. Canada, United Kingdom, Cyprus, Portugal, Spain, Greece, Malta, Germany, Australia, and New Zealand.
Many of those countries have tightened their immigration rules, however, as the backlash in Western countries against immigrants from poorer countries has also led to an overall decrease in the number of immigrants allowed in from other Western countries, including Israel.
Still, for individuals with particular talents – or with very high incomes, finding a country to which they can move does not present the same problems as it would for people of lesser means.
Let me end this with this cautionary note from the TOI article: “For a country where the top 20% of income earners are paying 92% of all income tax revenue, the change in the mix of Israelis leaving the country represents a significant strategic risk to state revenues and growth in the economy.”
And, with so many countries now seeing Israel as a pariah state, with all the attendant economic consequences that portends, it is hard to be optimistic about Israel’s future.
Features
Coincidence or not: Two books launched the same night – by my brother and by my niece
By GERRY POSNER Recently, on October 8, to be exact, an odd timing coincidence occurred in my family that struck me as highly unlikely. Two books were launched on the very same night in Toronto, at two separate locations. What was unusual for me was that one book was by my brother, Michael Posner and the other book was written by my niece, Elana Shira Segal. The topics, unsurprisingly, were not connected to each other. But you could not have planned that timing any worse than it turned out to be.
Michael Posner’s book, This Jewish Moment, an oral history of the Diaspora after October 7, 2023 had various people giving their opinions on a set of questions Michael posed to them as he interviewed them following the October 7, 2023 massacre. The interviews were conducted by Zoom. Each person interviewed was aware of the fact that the interview was recorded and that the interview might be used in a book. Each person’s name and age is given along with a brief description of who that person is. Some of the interviews were with people well known in Manitoba circles.The oral history technique is not new to Michael as he used it in the Leonard Cohen trilogies he created not that long ago and before that in his book on Mordecai Richler.
Michael interviewed over one hundred Jews in Canada and the United States. The thrust of the book was to explore how the events of October 7 affected the interviewees, how it changed (or didn’t change) their interpersonal relationships; altered, if at all, their spiritual lives; their trust in Jewish institutions and indeed, their perceptions about their own safety. It includes their thoughts about what lies ahead and even the idea of leaving North America. Without giving too much away, I can say that the opinions canvassed in the book do reflect a definite shift for many of the interviewees from their previous thoughts on these topics. If you read Michael’s book, you will not come away singing cheery songs. For many people, the future is bleak.
At the book launch held at the Beth Tikvah Synagogue in Toronto in front of about sixty people, there were several former Winnipeggers in attendance, including: Paul Shuckett, Bernie and Sheila Rubenstein, Aubrey Caplan and Philipa Glazerman, the former Susan Silverman, Gary Diamond, my son Ari Posner, and even a current resident of Winnipeg, Dolly Cohen, who came to visit her cousin Philipa.
Michael’s book, published by Sutherland Press, is in hardcover and ebook. It can be purchased at Indigo, and through Amazon.
Elana’s book is in an entirely different genre than her Uncle Michael’s book. Even the Darkness Has Stars is the title of her book -also her very first book. It is a work of fiction based on her career as a social worker and therapist for over 30 years in Toronto. The book explores the life of a teenage girl dealing not only with the usual teenage angst, but other issues as well. It is a book that will resonate with teenagers, and indeed parents of teenagers. It is a story of resilience and is an honest reflection of the very real problems facing many teens and ways to address their problems. I would suggest that the themes in the book are very relevant to teenagers today, especially girls. I think it is also fair to say that many parents of teenage children will identify with the difficulties faced by the chief protagonist in the book. Even counsellors and trained therapists will recognize the issues raised in this book. Schools and libraries would benefit from the book.
At her book launch, Elana outdrew her Uncle Michael as she had over one hundred people there. The conflict of the two books presented several of us in the family with an issue as to which event to attend. While my son Ari came to his uncle’s launch, his wife Tamar Kagan went to Ari’s first cousin Elana’s debut book launch. Even my wife and I split our allegiances.
Elana’s book can be ordered through Amazon or Barnes and Noble in the USA.
Now, if the oddity of the two books in the family being released at the same time was not enough, in November, another family member has a book coming out. This book is by my nephew Sam Posner’s wife, Erin Rothstein. Her book, called Watch Me is a guide to unlocking creative power. Erin is a visual artist, whose original paintings and limited edition prints have made her a name in the world of art already. She has a large following due to the success of her art. Her book deals with the ways to find your inner creativity and the ideas that spring to life when a person unlocks that creativity and gives him or herself permission to think bigger. If the book lives up to the art Erin creates, she will have a best seller. Erin’s book will be launched in four cities: Toronto, Montreal, New York and Los Angeles. It will be available at Indigo, Barnes and Noble, and through Amazon in hardcover, paperback, e-book and audiobook.
To the readers of this article, get out there and support the Posner family.
Features
The late Dr. Maurice Shnider had a fascinating life – from serving in WWII to meeting famous celebrities who passed through Winnipeg
By MARTIN ZEILIG I first visited Dr. Maurice Shnider at his home in Winnipeg’s River Heights neighbourhood to talk about war.
His house reflected the life of a successful physician. It was spacious and comfortable without being ostentatious. Family photographs occupied shelves and tables. Sunlight spilled into the kitchen where we sat drinking coffee.
By then he was an elderly man, friendly, thoughtful, and possessed of that rare quality found in some people who have lived through extraordinary times. He never seemed impressed by his own experiences.
He had been born in Sheho, Saskatchewan, in 1923 and grew up in Inglis, Manitoba.
Then came the war.
As a young man he served with the Royal Canadian Air Force before being seconded to the Royal Air Force. Flying aboard Catalina flying boats in the Bay of Bengal, he participated in missions searching for downed Allied aircrew and earned the Distinguished Flying Cross.
Those were the stories I had come to hear and later wrote about for the Jewish Post & News.
Stories of long flights over open water.
Stories of rescue.
Stories of courage.
Yet as the interview continued, another chapter of his life emerged.
After the war he returned to Canada, attended medical school at the University of Manitoba, and eventually built a successful family practice in Winnipeg. His patients often became his friends. He took pride in caring for generations of families and became known as a gifted and dedicated physician.
For a period of years, he also served as the physician responsible for checking vaccination records and health documentation for international travellers passing through Winnipeg International Airport.
It was then that his eyes brightened.
The war stories were important.
The airport stories were fun.
“You’d be surprised who came through Winnipeg,” he said.
The coffee was fresh. Outside, a warm prairie breeze shifted the trees beyond the kitchen window.
Then he smiled.
“Even the Beatles.”
The name immediately caught my attention.
“The Beatles?”
He laughed.
“The whole city went crazy.”
It was August 18, 1964.
The Beatles were on their way to begin their first major North American tour and Winnipeg was merely a refuelling stop. They weren’t playing a concert. They weren’t staying overnight.
They were simply passing through.
Yet somehow word spread.
Radio stations reported it. Teenagers rushed to the airport. Parents drove excited daughters across the city. Traffic clogged nearby roads. The terminal filled with screaming fans hoping to catch a glimpse of the four young Englishmen who seemed to have conquered the world overnight.
Maurice happened to be the airport doctor assigned to examine the passengers’ health records.
What should have been a routine day suddenly became anything but.
Almost fifty years later, what remained vivid in his memory was not the famous faces but the sound.
The noise.
The shrieking.
The excitement.
For a brief moment Winnipeg became the centre of the universe for thousands of young Canadians.
Then the aircraft door opened.
John, Paul, George, and Ringo appeared.
They waved.
The crowd erupted.
A few photographs were taken.
A few words were exchanged.
And then, scarcely more than twenty minutes after they had arrived, they were gone.
Winnipeg returned to being Winnipeg.
Maurice chuckled at the memory.
“John Lennon was cheeky.”
I asked what he meant.
He considered the question.
“Always had a smart answer.”
He smiled again.
“Not rude. Just cheeky.”
The passage of decades had done nothing to diminish his amusement.
For a few moments we sat quietly.
Then another memory surfaced.
“Steve McQueen was one of the nicest.”
That surprised me.
Maurice encountered the actor in the airport restaurant.
McQueen was seated alone.
No entourage.
No photographers.
No one making a fuss.
Just a man eating lunch between flights.
Maurice rarely approached famous people.
But there was a reason that day.
One of his children was facing serious medical challenges and was a devoted Steve McQueen fan. Movies offered an escape from hospitals, treatments, and uncertainty.
So Maurice walked over to the actor’s table.
He introduced himself and explained the situation.
McQueen listened carefully.
Then he asked for the family’s address.
That was all.
No promises. No performance. No grand gesture.
Simply an address.
Several weeks later a package arrived at the Shnider home.
Inside was an autographed Steve McQueen poster.
Maurice’s expression softened as he recalled it.
The poster itself wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered was seeing the joy it brought.
Even years later, that was the part of the story he remembered most clearly.
“He was a very humble man,” Maurice said.
“Very soft-spoken.”
The kitchen fell silent.
For a moment the famous actor disappeared entirely from the story.
What remained was a father’s gratitude.
Then Maurice laughed again.
“Vanessa Redgrave.”
Another unexpected visitor.
She was travelling through Winnipeg on her way to Los Angeles when it was discovered that she lacked the proper vaccination documentation required for international travel.
In those days such requirements were taken seriously.
The problem needed solving.
So Maurice solved it.
He drove her downtown to his office.
One of the world’s most celebrated actresses riding through Winnipeg in a doctor’s car.
No limousine.
No security detail.
No red carpet.
Just traffic lights, city streets, and ordinary conversation.
There he administered the required vaccination and drove her back to the airport in time for her flight.
He told the story as though it were perfectly routine.
Perhaps for him it was.
I remember thinking that this was what made his stories so wonderful.
To everyone else they sounded extraordinary.
To Maurice they were simply things that had happened during a long and interesting life.
As our conversation drew to a close, he looked down into his coffee cup and reflected on the famous people who had crossed his path.
The Beatles.
Steve McQueen.
Vanessa Redgrave.
Different personalities.
Different kinds of fame.
Yet in the end they all became the same thing.
Travellers.
People worried about schedules.
People missing paperwork.
People trying to catch flights.
People trying to get somewhere.
The old airport had been a great equalizer. For a few moments, between arrival and departure, fame gave way to ordinary life.
And Maurice Shnider occupied a unique place in that world.
He wasn’t a celebrity.
He wasn’t an observer standing outside the story.
He was part of it.
A prairie boy who became a decorated wartime airman, flew rescue missions over distant seas, returned home to study medicine, built a respected family practice in Winnipeg, and devoted his life to helping others.
Some of the people he met happened to be famous.
Most were not.
To Maurice, it made little difference.
He especially enjoyed the company of pilots, storytellers, musicians, and adventurers. He remained fascinated by the Second World War, by history, and above all by people. Fame interested him far less than character.
He remembered the famous ones not because they were celebrities, but because, for a few brief moments, they revealed themselves to be something far more interesting.
Simply human.
When Dr. Maurice Shnider died in 2013 at the age of ninety, Winnipeg lost not only a distinguished physician and decorated veteran, but also a man who never lost his curiosity about the world or his affection for the people who passed through it.
Some departures are quickly forgotten.
Others leave a lasting mark.
That was how I remember him.
And that is how he deserves to be remembered.
