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Harold and Harry – a friendship that spanned seven decades

left: the late Harold Richman
right: Harry Warren

Ed. note: It’s been quite some time since we had run a piece by Harry Warren in the print edition of the JP&N. Harry’s often whimsical musings were regular features in the paper for many years. So, when I happened to call Harry not too long ago, I was more than  a little concerned that I might find out there was something seriously wrong that had prevented him from sending us any more contributions.

But, when I asked Harry why it was that he had stopped writing for us, his answer, quite simply, was that he just couldn’t think of anything else to write about. In response, I asked him if it would be all right with him then if I looked back at his many pieces and chose one to reprint for our Rosh Hashanah issue. I should also mention that, in his meticulous manner, Harry numbered every one of his articles.The last one we received, for instance, was #110. I chose the following piece, #102 as it happens, because it’s both humourous and poignant, as in it Harry looks back on a lifelong friendship with his dear friend, Harold.

It all began in 1946, when I met Harold at The University of Manitoba Ski Club. Harold was enrolled in Electrical Engineering faculty and I in the faculty of Civil Engineering. This was the beginning of a friendship that lasted over 65 years.
When Harold was invited to become the editor of the annual publication “The Slide Rule” he accepted on the condition that Iwould be his co-editor. That’s how we both became members of the Engineering Council.
This was usually a fairly technical publication where students usually reported on their summer work experiences.
We decided to jazz it up a bit by adding humorous articles and lots of photos of the students. One of the articles that Harold wrote about was on German inventions. It was our understanding that the copyrights on these inventions ended when Germany capitulated to the Allies at the end of World War II. We discussed possibly going into partnership after we graduated, but it never came to pass.

Harold headed for Montreal after graduation in 1947, and I stayed in Winnipeg with a job at the Dominion Bridge Co. as a Concrete Design Engineer. Harold corresponded with me and ultimately convinced meto move to Montreal because there were more opportunities for engineers in that city. I was able to get a job with the Dominion Structural Steel Co. in Montreal and found a room for rent on Esplanade Ave., near Mount Royal. This was a rooming house shared by another friend of mine, Al Yentin, an architect from Winnipeg.

Harold and I took a week-end trip to Ste Agathe, a resort, north of Montreal. We had intended to take a swim in the beautiful lake, but had trouble finding a public beach, as the resort hotels were able to build on private lots that stretched to the water’s edge. When we finally did find a public beach it was littered with trash and empty beer cans.
It was a very warm day and we decided to go for a swim. There was a fixed raft about 100 yards from the lakeshore. When we arrived we lay down on it, and thought we would take in some sun. Presently we heard someone shouting at us from the lakeshore. At first, we ignored it, until we realized he was trying to get our attention, but we couldn’t make out what he was saying, until he swam up to us climbed aboard and said:
“C’est privée monsieur!”
Imagine a diving platform out in the lake that was private property and owned by one of the resort hotels! Unheard of in the province of Manitoba! We passed one of the hotels that had a sign on its front lawn: “Restricted Clientelle”.
Just for fun we went to the main desk to inquire and were told that they did not allow Jews or Coloured guests on their property – blatant bigotry and anti-Semitism – something we had not experienced in Manitoba. We were gaining an education in the province of Quebec. If you were not registered in one of the hotels there was simply no place to go! We finally found a bit of shade by sitting on the grass beside the road with our backs up against a retaining wall. Presently we heard someone calling us from the top of the retaining wall:
“C’est privée monsieurs”
Even the grass beside the roadway was private!

I persuaded Harold to take a drawing course. We proceeded to buy our supplies, some drawing paper and charcoal sticks and showed up at the studio. There were a number of students already in front of their easels. We looked around and thought that perhaps we would start by drawing some still life, like apples or oranges in a dish.
As we waited a door opened into the studio and an attractive young woman proceeded to the centre of the floor, dressed in a robe. Presently she dropped her robe, and she was absolutely stark naked! The other students started drawing immediately while Harold and I simply stood there with our mouths open, and took it all in. The teacher came up to us, and with a stern look on her face and exclaimed: “You better put something on paper, fast, or out you go!”
So much for our venture in to the art world of Montreal.

On another occasion Harold received an invitation to visit some friends at their cottage in Ste. Agathe. He asked our host if I could join them on this trip, and it was agreed. We acted like a couple of twins, joined at the hip. It was a beautiful cottage and appetizers were being served. Harold introduced me to our host, a Jewish businessman from Montreal, in the shmata business (clothing manufacture) – also his daughter. He took me aside into the solarium and said.
“Harold tells me you’re an engineer.”
I said that was correct.
“I like you, and my daughter likes you. I am getting ready to retire and am looking for someone to take over my business.”
Holy mackerel! I was being propositioned! On our very first meeting! I withdrew with some lame duck excuse. And I was furious! Harold had set me up! Obviously he had been propositioned first, and obviously he wasn’t interested. Neither was I! Everything moves much faster in Montreal than it does in Winnipeg! I was gaining an education!

My boarding housemate, Al Yentin, took me aside one evening and said:
“Harry, do you like to play tennis?”
“Sure”, was my reply, “What’s up?”
“I have a tennis date, on the mountain, tonight, and my girl friend has a girl friend who would like to play doubles.
“I don’t like blind dates.” was my response.
“Come on, be a sport, it wouldn’t hurt you to try it once.”
Reluctantly I agreed to join them.
When we reached the tennis courts on Mount Royal, I was introduced to my tennis partner, Nora Bain. I can’t remember who won the match. It didn’t seem to matter! We talked a great deal that evening. I discovered that she came from a small Jewish community in Quebec city, and was working as a Burroughs Bookkeeping machine operator. She was interested in sports. And so was I. She was also interested in downhill skiing. Wow! So was I! We had a lot in common and I was definitely interested in dating her again.

Harold noticed that we weren’t seeing each other much, and his curiosity was aroused. Try as he might he wasn’t going to extract this information. I was in love with Nora and I was going to ask her to marry me! Soon, I proposed and she accepted.
I was prepared to introduce Nora to Harold. One weekend we went to Quebec City to see Nora’s family, including her younger sister Ray, and her younger brother, Ossie.
Our wedding date was set for January 15th. 1949, in Montreal and Harold was invited to attend. The best man at my wedding was my older brother, William (Val), and it was held on his birthday. William and I had shared the same bedroom for 18 years, and he was my mentor. If he had refused, Harold would have been my second choice. On our 60th wedding anniversary, Harold was asked to verify this fact.

A year after we were married I persuaded Nora that Winnipeg would be a better place to raise a family. We left for Winnipeg. In May of 1950, in time for the worst flood Winnipeg had experienced in 50 years! Harold returned to Winnipeg at a later date.
Subsequently, Harold met the love of his life, Laura Newhouse, in Winnipeg and they were married on September 8th. 1953. We attended their wedding, our wives got along very well, and we double dated. Harold had acquired a manufacturing business in Winnipeg called JR Wire and he proceeded to build a very successful future for his family of Laura and their daughters Joy, Sally and Rebecca. Rebecca graduated in Mechanical Engineering and joined her dad in the manufacturing business for a short period of years. Joy pursued a career in Dentistry, ultimately receiving her Phd in Dentistry. She was engaged in research and gained an international reputation as a speaker in the area of dental research. Sally graduated from the Ryerson Institute in Toronto and pursued a career in clothing design.

Our family consisted of Paul and Martin. Paul graduated in Commerce and Law and ultimately moved to Calgary, where he became successful in the sale of pre-owned cars. His younger brother, Martin, graduated in Dentistry from The University of Manitoba and followed Paul to Calgary, where he established a dental practice. Subsequently, he purchased several dental practices in Edmonton. Our children became friendly with Harold and Laura’s children.

In December of 1993 Nora and I purchased a winter home built in Sun City West, Arizona, a small retirement city about 45 miles north and west of Phoenix. We were really enthusiastic about our new winter home and communicated our excitement to Harold and Laura. As a result they also bought a home in Sun City West a year later. This was a city of active retirees, age 55 and older, with over 100 different clubs! Harold and I shared many common interests. We enjoyed participating in photography, writing and the Rio Institute of Senior Education. Harold also became interested in the Metals Club, and produced some very fine metal furniture for their winter home.
In November of 2006 we lost our son Paul in Calgary as a result of complications from Type One Diabetes. In March of 2008 I had an operation in Winnipeg for colon cancer and miraculously survived, thanks to my surgeon, Dr. Clifford Yaffe.

In October, 2010 Laura informed Nora that Harold had been diagnosed with leukemia and was being treated with blood transfusions. Cancercare Manitoba did everything they could do to save him, but tragically he passed away on Thursday, October, 21st. 2010.
We will all miss him. He was the consummate engineer. When he faced a problem his philosophy was:
“The difficult we can do right away, the impossible will take a little longer.”
Harold and I attended courses in anthropology at the University of Manitoba, together, as well asat the Manitoba Naturalist Society and the Rio Institute of Senior Education. He was generous to many worthy causes and always ready to help out when he was needed.

Editor’s post script: In the original version of this story, Harry never did disclose Harold’s name – for reasons I never quite understood, but I don’t suppose that Harry would be upset if I mentioned that the Harold in the story was Harold Richman, z”l.

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Rabbi Gary Zweig’s new book provides humorous and moving accounts of making minyans in unlikely circumstances

Rabbi Gary Zweig

By MYRON LOVE The recitation of the kaddish is a central tenet of Jewish religious life.  Even members of our community who are largely secular will likely recite the words of the kaddish for a parent, sibling or spouse at some point in their lives – even if only at the grave site.
The kaddish can only be recited publicly in the presence of a minyan – a gathering of ten (men in the Orthodox tradition. The number, as explained by Rabbi Gedalia (Gary Zweig), stems from the number of spies – as written in the Torah –  whom Moshe rabbenu sent into the promised land and who came back with negative reports as compared to the two spies – one of whom was Joshua – who said that the land was flowing with milk and honey.
It is this challenge of putting together minyans for a  mourner to recite the kaddish in different locales and circumstances – when a minyan in a shul is not possible – that is the subject of Zweig’a newly released book, “Kaddish Around the World” – a 90-plus page compilation of short stories – some humourous, some heartwarming – of successful efforts to recruit enough daveners for a kaddish minyan, ranging in time and space from a Super Bowl game in San Diego to the middle of a game reserve in South Africa to a Jewish museum in Cordoba in Spain – in a city largely devoid of Jews.
Zweig, who hails from Toronto, was in Winnipeg over Yom Tov to lead services – along with Toronto-based Chazan Manny Aptowitser – at the Chavurat Tefila Talmud Torah Synagogue.  On the Tuesday just before Yom Kippur, the synagogue hosted an evening to provide the rabbi with a venue to discuss his new book  – a sequel to his first book, “Living Kaddish,” which he released in 2007 (and has been translated into Russian and Spanish).
Zweig is one of the original Aish Hatorah-trained rabbis – having attained his smicha in 1982 from Rabbi Noah Weinberg, the founder of Aish Hatorah.  He (Zweig) is much travelled, himself having led Yom Tov services in such exotic locales as Bermuda, Barbados and  Curacao in the Caribbean, Mexico and Sweden.
Zweig noted that he was inspired to write “Living Kaddish” after his mother passed away in 2002 when, on one occasion, he was not able to find a minyan so that he could say kaddish.
In his presentation at the Chavurat Tefila, he observed that the first Jew to mention kaddish is purported to be Rueven – about 3,500 years ago – on the passing of his father, Yaacov (Israel).  About 900 C.E., Zweig continued, kaddish became part of the liturgy and, 200 years later, was included in the siddur.
It is interesting, he noted, that kaddish is said not for the deceased, but, rather, the living. There is no mention of the Lord in the kaddish either.  Kaddish is actually a prayer for hope and the future.
For a parent, one is required to say kaddish three times a day – morning, afternoon and evening – for 11 months.  For a sibling, child (God forbid), relative or others, the requirement is just 30 days.
One of the stories in “Kaddish Around the World” tells of one of Zweig’s own experiences – after his father died in 20201 at the age of 101.  The author happened to be at a family bar mitzvah in Orlando several months later.  He fully expected that in a city with a Jewish population the size of Orlando, he wouldn’t have any trouble putting together a minyan for a Sunday morning. He felt even more confident when he noticed that an AMOR Rabbis convention was being held at the same hotel.  On inquiring which sort of rabbis these were, he learned that AMOR stood for “Association of Messianic Rabbis”.
Come Sunday morning, most of the bar mitzvah guests had gone home.  He could only muster eight for the minyan. He thought he could try the messianic group in the hope that some of them may have been born Jewish. Four of the group offered to help.  A Chabad rabbi suggested that Zweig ascertain that each had two Jewish parents. Two qualified.
Zweig quoted one of the two messianic rabbis who said, after the service that ”this was the most moving service I have ever experienced.”
“Maybe Hashem brought me to that particular hotel at that particular time so that I could provide them with little spark of what Judaism is about,” Zweig said.
Another of the stories in the book concerns a shopkeeper in an American mall where many of the other store owners were also Jewish. The individual, Yossi, needed a minyan for mincha (the afternoon prayer) but couldn’t afford to close his business. He figured he could round up enough of the other store keepers to form a minyan.  Everyone he approached was willing to come if he were to be the tenth. (In my own years organizing minyans,  that was something I heard often enough – “call me if I will be the tenth”).   Yossi’s solution was to assure each one he asked that, yes, he would be the tenth.
“Kaddish Around the World” is available on Amazon and also in digital ebook format and as an audio book.
In addition to being a rabbi and author, Zweig also is a singer/songwriter working in his own genre – Jewish rock and roll.  He has a band called “The Kiddush Club,” and a CD called “TOYS.” In addition, he has recently launched a YouTube channel called “Living Kaddish”.

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The Gaza Peace Plan is not a Done Deal, but an Opening

By HENRY SREBRNIK (Oct. 23, 2025) The idea that Hamas will voluntarily disarm, that international forces will deploy in the Gaza Strip, and that the process of building a Palestinian government by people like former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, in which a disarmed Hamas does not participate, are false hopes, if not fantasies. But does this mean U.S. President Donald Trump’s peace plan was useless? Of course not.

Trump understood the necessity of bringing the war to an end. But he also believed that endless debate among experts or, worse, historian and lawyers, would never produce an agreement. He presented an offer – actually, an ultimatum – to Benjamin Netanyahu and Hamas that neither could refuse: immediate, unconditional and complete release of all hostages and missing persons, something the Israeli public longed for, in exchange for a final end to the war, which a humbled Hamas needed. 

Two years of war has left Hamas weaker than it had been in decades. Israeli bombardments had shattered the group’s military capabilities and depleted its arsenals. In many neighborhoods, control had drifted to local clan networks and tribal councils. This hinted at something that could one day replace Hamas’s iron grip. To prevent this, Hamas has been ruthlessly murdering all potential rivals in the areas of Gaza it controls since the ceasefire went into effect. 

Despite the severe degradation of its military capabilities during the war, Hamas still has more soldiers and weapons than all its rival factions in Gaza combined. Hamas has managed to redeploy approximately 7,000 militants to reassert control over the territory. They have publicized photographs and videos of their forces murdering and torturing; the victims include women and children. 

The ceasefire is a temporary reprieve for Hamas: a chance to regroup, rearm, and prepare for the next round of fighting. In Islamist political thought there’s a word for it, hudna — a temporary truce with non-Muslim adversaries that can be discarded as soon as the balance of power shifts. Then the time for jihad will arrive again. Hamas was established in 1987 and isn’t going to disappear.

In fact Hamas also says it expects an interim International Transitional Authority to hire 40,000 Hamas employees, and Hamas spokesman Basem Naim says he expects its fighters to be integrated into a post-transition Palestinian state.

Still, Trump has succeeded in ending the current war in Gaza, where Joe Biden failed. Biden’s national security team, drawn almost entirely from his supposed expert class, didn’t even see the crisis coming. Just five days before the attack, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan had published an article in Foreign Affairs in which he wrote that “the region is quieter than it has been for decades.”

Biden also had insulted the Saudi crown prince, Mohammed bin Salman, by publicly condemning the 2018 murder of Saudi dissident journalist Jamal Khashoggi. And, of course, there was Biden’s poor relationship with Netanyahu, and his chronic inability to get the Israeli prime minister to do what he wanted.

By contrast, Trump returned to office with substantially more influence in both the Gulf and Israel, based on his first-term successes in the Middle East, especially the Abraham Accords (for which he’s never been praised by his political enemies). 

Four Arab countries formally recognized Israel, beginning with the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, followed by Sudan and Morocco. The next stage was intended to include Saudi Arabia. One motive put forward by some analysts for the October 7 attacks was that they were intended to provoke Israel into a response that would derail Saudi Arabia’s admission.

Instead of sitting Israelis and Arabs in a room and expecting them to negotiate an outcome, Trump’s approach has been to exert leverage through other players in the region, especially, Egypt, Turkey, and – most importantly – Qatar. 

In Jerusalem, they call Qatar “the spoiler state.” Israelis describe the emirate as two trains running behind the same engine. One, led by the Qatari ruler’s mother and brother, supports the Muslim Brotherhood and is an unmistakable hater of Israel. The other, led by the prime minister, Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al Thani and several other senior figures, seeks rapprochement with the West.

The Qataris were shocked when Israeli jets on Sept. 9 conducted an airstrike in Doha targeting the leadership of Hamas. They then signed onto Trump’s peace plan at a meeting in New York Sept. 23, hosted by Trump and Qatari Emir Sheikh Tamim Ibn Hamad Al Thani, and attended by the leaders of eight Arab states, along with members of the Organization of Islamic Cooperation. 

Netanyahu was then browbeaten into accepting the plan (and also forced to apologize to the Emir for the airstrike). It was somewhat ironic that the airstrike made the peace plan possible. As well, Trump’s attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities in June gave this negotiation some very sharp teeth.

“If you would rather leave peacemaking to the historians and diplomats, then you may wait a long time for wars to end,” suggested Niall Ferguson of the Hoover Institution at Stanford University, in an Oct. 15 Free Press article. His advice? Go to the “deal guys: They get the job done.”

In a sense, both Israel and Hamas had accomplished their goals. Israel had broken the Iranian axis of terror by eliminating Hezbollah and Hamas as a fighting force, along with the Iranian nuclear threat. Hamas had succeeded in luring Israel into a trap that led it to become hated and isolated around the world. This included the labelling of Israel as genocidal and the global call for a Palestinian state.

The rest of the 20-point peace plan will be addressed in a step-by-step fashion. Meanwhile, Israel must ensure that it retains freedom of action in Gaza, by decisive action against any attempt by Hamas to rebuild its army, its rockets, its battalions and its divisions.

Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.

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Features

Why Fitness Routines Fall Apart — and How to Rebuild Yours

image from pexels.com

Every spring, gyms see a flood of hopeful faces. New shoes, fresh playlists, unwavering intentions, by mid-summer? Half of them vanish into the fog of abandoned routines. The story repeats year after year until it starts to feel almost scripted. Why does enthusiasm evaporate? The easy answer involves willpower but that explanation misses the point. Habits don’t fail because people are weak. Life stress, boredom, and monotony ruin routines. Timely lever pulls can change narratives. The hardest part is persevering when motivation wanes.

Mistaking Motivation for Momentum

Most chase that opening surge, the lightning strike of motivation, but then stop searching once enthusiasm fizzles. A scroll through sites like PUR Pharma (pur-pharma.is/) or a glimpse of an influencer’s progress triggers a burst of action: new workout gear ordered, plans scribbled in planners destined for dusty drawers. Yet momentum fades when small setbacks pop up (a late meeting here, rainy weather there). Real progress comes from building systems stronger than any fleeting pep talk. Those who frame fitness as something owed to motivation end up back at square one every time life interrupts, which it always does.

Overcomplicating Everything

It’s tempting to turn wellness into a science fair project with spreadsheets and specialized equipment lined up on day one. This is the allure of complexity disguised as seriousness, a new diet paired with seven types of supplements and four color-coded bottles. Simplicity gets lost in the noise almost instantly. Most successful routines rely on two principles: keep it simple and keep showing up even when everything else is chaos outside those gym walls. Anyone insisting that perfection is required before taking step one has already constructed an excuse not to begin at all.

Forgetting Fun Completely

Who decided exercise must hurt or look like punishment? Somewhere along the line, fun got swapped out for grind culture and “no pain, no gain.” That isn’t just unappealing, it’s unsustainable over months or years. If sessions feel like torture devices borrowed from medieval times, nobody should be surprised when commitment falters fast. Seek activities that actually spark some joy or curiosity, a dance class instead of yet another treadmill session, maybe, or play a pickup game rather than slogging through solo circuits again and again.

Ignoring Recovery (and Reality)

Sleep deprivation, disguised as discipline, fools anyone, except perhaps uncritical Instagram followers. Ignoring recovery turns ambition into tiredness faster than any missed session. Because bodies break without rest, routines must breathe with owners. Cycling, real leisure, and honest self-checks regarding weekly goals build endurance, not continual pushing.

Conclusion

Change rarely arrives by force alone but usually grows quietly from patterns repeated imperfectly over time, even if last month looked nothing like this week so far. Drop the hunt for nonstop inspiration. Instead of breaking behaviors at the first hint of stress or boredom, build habits that last. People who rebuild methodically after every stumble or detour make progress, not those who peak and then fall.

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