Features
Individuals like Jonathan Strauss, who stayed in Winnipeg rather than leave when opportunity beckoned elsewhere, are key to sustaining the vibrancy of our community
By BERNIE BELLAN In the September 27 print edition of The Jewish Post & News I wrote an article showing how much inflation has had a very negative effect on the amounts that our Jewish Federation has been allocating to the 12 beneficiary agencies of the Federation.(You can read about those cuts elsewhere on this website.) What I wrote in the print issue is that the fact that the Federation has had to reduce allocations to the agencies this year by over $200,000 brings home a point I have been making for years, which is that the demographics of our Jewish community are changing considerably – and not for the better.
In years past the Federation could count on increased contributions to the Combined Jewish Appeal from one year to the next and the beneficiary agencies could expect to receive at least as much in allocations from the Federation as they had the previous year.
And, although there was a slight increase in the total amount raised by the CJA this past year over the previous year, the amount raised in the 2022-23 campaign was only $50,000 more than what had been raised in the 2021-22 campaign.
As I also noted in my article reporting on the decrease in allocations to agencies in our last issue, the Federation had been able to increase allocations to the agencies in the previous two years only by dipping into its reserve fund to the tune of $100,000 both those years – and that was not sustainable on an ongoing basis.
Yet, the impact of the cuts to agencies will not be nearly as severe as one might have expected for two reasons: As I also noted in my article in the September 13 issue, there was a substantial increase in grants given by the Jewish Foundation this past year. Secondly, many of the beneficiary agencies have established endowment funds that have been yielding returns such that they have been able to mitigate to some extent the impact of the cuts that have now been imposed by the Federation.
Certainly, the financial health of our community institutions is not in immediate jeopardy as a result of decisions that have been made by planners in the past, also thanks to the generosity of donors who have now passed on but who left substantial gifts either directly to the Jewish Foundation or to many of the agencies,, as the case may have been.
But, what of the future? Our Jewish community is an aging community and, while there has been an influx of new blood over the past 30 years, many of the members of the Jewish community who could be counted on to provide financial support for community institutions have disappeared from the scene. In many cases their children are continuing to provide that same level of support – but one wonders whether that will continue very much longer?
Further, there has been an ongoing exodus of Jewish Winnipeggers over the years to other cities – which has only been exacerbated in more recent years by many older – and now retired members of our community, moving to other cities to be closer to their children and grandchildren. While I can’t pin a specific figure as to how many Jewish Winnipeggers fit into the category of ex-Winnipeggers, anecdotally I have been at the receiving end of a constant stream of phone calls or emails over the years from subscribers asking me either to change their address to another city or, as is often the case, simply cancelling the paper when they leave Winnipeg.
That is why it was so refreshing to hear from one young member of our community who chose to stay in Winnipeg when he could easily have made the move to another city when opportunity beckoned.
That individual is Jonathan Strauss, who was the recent guest speaker at the Remis lecture forum, held weekly at the Gwen Secter Centre (and which will be going until the end of October this year).
Jonathan told the audience at the Gwen Secter on Thursday, September 21 how he’s managed to succeed as an entrepreneur in a wide variety of fields, all the while maintaining his residence in Winnipeg, even while servicing clients in many different cities.
His foray into the business word began when Jonathan was only 16, in 1995, he observed – after just having completed Grade 10. He first started working for a publication known as the Computer Post, and when the owners of that publication found themselves in financial difficulty Jonathan had the courage to dare to offer to buy the business from them – which he did.
Still in high school, but now with an entrée into the world of computer retailing through the Computer Post, Jonathan began to organize a computer expo for computer manufacturers and retailers to showcase their products.
Possessed with a formidable communication ability Jonathan was able to transition from organizing annual computer expos to an entire world of event management, under the name Strauss Event Management.
In time, moreover, Jonathan’s networking skills allowed him not only to develop a thriving event management company, but also to begin providing management services for many non-profit associations to the point where his company now provides those services for 13 different associations.
In describing how he came to acquire such a keen ability to network, Jonathan paid particular tribute to Brian Scharfstein, who served as a mentor for Jonathan in the early years of his company. He also mentioned Steve Kroft as someone who has provided great advice over the years.
At the same time Jonathan has been eager to participate in volunteering within the Jewish community, he said, including serving on the boards of Gray Academy and the Asper Campus (were he is the Gray Academy representative on that board). As well, he noted, he has been active in the Rady JCC Sports Dinner for many years.
Jonathan Strauss is not unique in his having decided to remain in Winnipeg, fashion a successful career as an entrepreneur, and play an active role within the Jewish community, but for every Jonathan Strauss I could probably name a great many others who didn’t stay in Winnipeg.
I remarked to Jonathan that several years ago I decided to undertake an analysis of where every single recipient of a scholarship from the Jewish Foundation in a particular year (that I chose at random) had ended up.
I said that what I discovered was that while many of the scholarship recipients who had pursued educations in health related fields, including nursing, dentistry, and medicine, had remained in Winnipeg, the scholarship recipients who chose to enter into business had by and large left Winnipeg.
In response to that observation Jonathan had a very interesting thought. He suggested that, while prior to Covid what I discovered about where young people ended up may have been true for the most part, if I were to undertake a similar study in a few years time, Jonathan predicted that I would discover a great many more young people will have decided to stay in Winnipeg.
The reasons are not difficult to decipher, he suggested: the extraordinarily high cost of housing in cities like Toronto and Vancouver and the incredibly long commute times if your dream is to own a house somewhere that is anywhere close to affordable. Added to that, Jonathan gave his own business as an example of being able to offer services to clients in many different cities that makes no difference where his services are located. (He even gave as an example his having three employees in El Salvador. Jonathan has never met them, he explained, but they’re as much a part of his business as anyone here – to the point that they celebrate birthdays together over the internet as if they were all in the same location.)
I said to Jonathan that, given the negative appeal that living in a city such as Toronto would hold for so many young people, especially those with young families, I’ve often wondered why our Jewish community has never made a more concerted effort to attract families from a city like Toronto.
The reason, I suppose, that our Federation is quite willing to roll out the welcome mat for prospective migrants here from distant lands, but has never made any sort of an effort to attempt to attract Torontonians, for instance, is that Toronto’s own Jewish Federation might find that highly offensive.
And yes, there have been instances of former Jewish Winnipeggers returning to Winnipeg from other cities – and settling in wonderfully here, but wouldn’t it be something if a trickle would turn into a torrent?
The key to the future of our Jewish community here is having more Jonathan Strausses decide to stay here – or perhaps return from cities in which they are now living. The alternative is for our Jewish community institutions to rely increasingly on the past generosity of donors who laid the groundwork for the sustainability of those institutions, but without an ever growing source of new donors to our Federation and its beneficiary agencies, the cut in allocations that occurred this year will very likely turn into a regular pattern.
Features
I Speak “Jew”
By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence
By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco
By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.