Features
My memories of Peretz Shul
By KINZEY POSEN It was a late Friday afternoon at Peretz Shul in 1964 or so. A good friend of mine at the time whose Yiddish name was Moishe said, “That’s it! I’m not coming back to school on Monday, I’m out of here!” Ok, as an 11 year old, he might have said it in a slightly different way. It was the first day of school in September and we were just about to go home. “Sure you are Moishe, I’m sure you’ll be back on Monday,” I told him.
Kinzey’s Grade 1 Peretz School class circa 1960
(Thanks to Sandy Shefrin for helping with identifying almost everyone; comments supplied by Kinzey)
Bottom Row crosslegged, left to right: Arthur Greenspan, unidentified, Matthew Levin (a.ka. Moishe in the story)
Second Row (l-r): Paula Wolfman, Rosa Scyzgiel, Shirley Starek, Myra Miller, Faye Golubchuk, Ruthie Rosenzweig,, Honey Leah Berman, Marcie Fleisher
Third Row (l-r): Diane McKay, Lucy Baumel, Janice Goldberg, Howard Kaplan, Sandy Shefrin, Heather Wallace, Pammy Zimmer (Kinzey’s wife, Shayla Fink’s first cousin, a beautiful person (alev hasholem)
Top row (l-r): Sidney Lieber, Martin (Kinzey) Posen, Sheldon Weidman, Harvey Zahn, Harvey Koffman (my first cousin) , Sidney Shoib, Morris Glimcher, Shawn Zell, Miss (Claire) Nelko (who is now Claire Breslaw)
Come Monday, true to his word, my friend did not come back. He had entered an alternate dimension it seemed; he was finished with Peretz Shul! Unheard of! Impossible! How did he do it? Moishe’s act of sedition was a reaction to the Yiddish teacher we had been blessed with that year and he was done. All of us in the class were in awe and Moishe, no worse for wear, having left the school, went on to become a respected ambassador for Canada’s Foreign Service.
A little while back, Bernie asked me to write about Peretz Shul from a different perspective: My own, as a student. I have often wondered why this institution. for those of us who went there, lives so large in our memories. Full disclosure: My grandmother Katya Posen Z’l, nee Gurarie, was one of the founders of Peretz Shul and a lifelong member of the Muter Farein – the women’s organization that helped establish the kindergarten and supported the school.
My father, Abe Posen, attended the school as did his sister, my aunt, Goldie Zuidema Z”l. My dad often told me stories of how various teachers at Peretz used to rent one of the rooms in their house on Burrows. To put it mildly, our family was steeped in Peretzness.
My era began in 1957 when I attended nursery school and then, kindergarten. To this day, I can still smell the matches when our teacher lit the Shabbat candles on Friday and we laid out our little mats to have a nap on. Being a socialist school for the most part, you would think Shabbat would not have been part of the school experience, but I have so many great reminiscences of those two years from making little coloured paper rings several metres long, to receiving the right colour star if we behaved. I loved getting those silver and gold ones alongside my name on the wall – wonderful, warm memories.
Our principal in those early days was Chaver Herstein – an imposing man with a wonderful head of hair and a bit of a temper. We called all our teachers by either “chaver” or “chaverteh” which, in this context, translated to “comrade”. We also called them Leher or Leheren – teacher in Yiddish. Our school was located at 601 Aikins, between Inkster and Polson Avenues. How do I remember the address? Early on as soon as we could write, we always wrote the address at the top of the left corner of the sheet of paper. Now, the building is a health community centre. Once we entered Grade One, our days were separated into half day Yiddish and half day English classes.
Grade One for me – and I am sure for my classmates, was a truly seminal experience. Pushed out of the warm bosom of kindergarten, Grade One meant getting down to serious work. Reading, see Dick run, see Jane run, see Dick and Jane run, writing, singing and my own personal challenge………arithmetic. Our Yiddish teacher, Miss Nelko, was the most beautiful woman who genuinely cared about her students. We loved her and she laid the groundwork for us learning Yiddish and how to be little menches and menchettes. Many years later, Shayla and I received a call about playing a wedding for an older couple. They came over to our house one evening and as we planned the event, it occurred to me that I knew who this woman was: My beloved Miss Nelko, some 40 years later. What a reunion it was!
Our English teacher, on the other hand, had a different style of teaching that could be best described, as adversarial. I renamed her Tyrannosaurus Rex and the invisible scars are still with me. Her approach to learning arithmetic was to say the least, extremely challenging. I was one of those kids who learned math in a different way and in those days, kids such as myself fell through the cracks and we fell deeply. All I remember is after a short explanation of one plus one equals two, etc., we all had to stand up by the blackboard as T Rex wrote a problem on the board. We could not sit down unless we put our hands up and answered correctly. Guess who was often the last kid standing? Me, of course, and I eventually memorized it all so I could finally sit down.
Another time, T Rex distributed to each of us a sheet of paper for some writing project. She gave me what we called at the time “grade one” paper. It’s where the lines were printed with one bold line and two lighter lines and then another bold line. It also had big wood chips in it. I noticed that she was also giving out what we called “grade two” paper. These were all symmetrical bold lines and I wanted one. When she finished giving them out, she asked if everyone received one and me, being me, said, “I didn’t.” My six-year-old brain conveniently forgot that my desk was in the front row and I had scrunched up the grade one paper into a ball and cleverly thought she wouldn’t see it in the wood support for the desk.
As I put my hand up and told her I didn’t get one, she approached my desk in a threatening way, reached into the desk support and said, “What is this?” I was fully chastised, and T Rex bellowed, “You will only get grade one paper for the rest of the year.”
The reality was, in those days, especially in the context of a parochial school, you sometimes had people teaching who were not trained and did not have the skills to do the job. Not only that, more than a few were survivors of the Holocaust and we eventually learned that they experienced terrible horrors in the camps and ghettos.
That being said, I had several wonderful teachers, whose voices to this day still reverberate in my head and I often reflect about their ability to connect and elevate the students.
Mrs. Gold, Mrs. Brooks and Pascal Fishman were some of them. Chaver Fishman came to us from Buenos Aires and was one of our Yiddish teachers. He had a great capacity to see potential in students and encourage them. Another of our teachers, Mrs. Wallace, taught us English and her daughter was in our class for years. The family wasn’t Jewish, but Heather my classmate, spoke Yiddish like a pro. I remember one of our later Yiddish teachers, Mrs. Korman, taught us “Zol Nit Keynmol” the Warsaw Ghetto Song, and led us in a procession to St. John’s Park in the spring, while we sang that song and others.
The year at Peretz Schul was highlighted by two major events. The annual essay contest in Yiddish and English, and the graduation, which took place towards the end of June. For each of those occasions, the auditorium would be absolutely packed and very hot. As students, we often escaped outside to cool off in the lane and we could hear what was going on by the open side doors.
The cultural offerings at Peretz were in my opinion, outstanding. We were taught so many great songs, we acted in plays and we created art. Jewish holidays were celebrated with a Yiddishe taam (Yiddish flavour). Since my Hebrew name was Mordechai/Motel, I always got the part of Mordechai in the Purim play. The music component was delivered by Chaver Bronstein or Mr. Brownstone as he was known at Talmud Torah. His classes were always held in the auditorium, where he’d stand by his easel flipping the song sheets written in Yiddish and we’d follow the words as he used his pointer. Contrary to the Talmud Torah choir experience, he never gave us names or hit us. After he retired, Mrs. Udow took over and when I hoped to join the choir, she said, “Modechai, your voice is changing, perhaps another time.”
After the principal Chaver Herstein retired, Mr. Heilik who was previously at the Calgary Peretz Shul became our new principal. He was an interesting man and because of my ‘occasional’ naughty behaviour, I got to know him a little better than most students. He was an artist. His medium was oil painting and I remember, on one occasion, we were taken out of our class and brought to the auditorium. When we arrived, we saw that all four walls had been covered with his paintings. There were dozens of them. It was a full-blown exhibition of his work.
I bring this up because I became the class artist at Peretz and my teachers often ‘commissioned’ me to draw and colour huge murals in the hallway of the school. This gave me the opportunity to get out of class. Chaver Heilik would always come out of his office to check out my work. My artistry was far below his level, but he was always encouraging and interested in what I was doing.
In my day, we all graduated from Grade Seven and you had the choice of continuing in what was called Mittel Shul. These classes were held after 4 o’clock, after you finished English school. No one in my class went to Mittel Shul and we felt sorry for those who did as they arrived at four, just as we were leaving.
For me, and I’m sure others, the experience of attending Peretz Shul, wasn’t truly appreciated until after we graduated. The real world out there wasn’t as warm and friendly as it was at 601 Aikins. I do know that the school gave me the education that my Baba and other founders were hoping to achieve: an ability to speak Yiddish, a love for the language, Jewish history known as Yiddishe geshicteh and above all, an appreciation for the Jewish people and our incredibly rich journey. I also had my Peretz Shul family, the 12 or so students in my class that I spent 35 hours a week with for nine years. We all take something different away from the experience, but I can guarantee you, many of us, including my friend Moishe the ambassador, will always carry Peretz Shul memories with us for the rest of our lives.
Post script:
Ed. note: It didn’t take me too long to figure out who the “Moishe” was to whom Kinzey refers in his article. I was actually friends myself with “Moishe”, although I knew him better as Matthew Levin.
Matthew was always very independent-minded – even as a kid. That being said, he went on to an illustrious career in Canada’s diplomatic service. Among other posts he held, he was Canada’s Ambassador to Columbia, Cuba, and most recently Spain.
It was while he was Ambassador to Cuba that Matthew, along with his wife, Rosealba, played an instrumental role in helping Cuban Jews emigrate to Israel (since Israel and Cuba did not have diplomatic relations).
When I read Kinzey’s story I decided to send it to Matthew – before I outed him as the “Moishe” in the story. Matthew was pleasantly surprised to see that Kinzey mentioned him in a story and even further that he referred to him as “Moishe”.
In my email to Matthew I mentioned that the last time I had attempted to contact him was when Stephen Harper was Prime Minister and Matthew was Canada’s Ambassador to Cuba. At the time, some low level functionaries in what is known as Global Affairs Canada interceded and said that I would not be able to communicate directly with Matthew. Instead, I was told, I could submit any questions that I had to Global Affairs, they would vet them (no doubt looking for anything that might potentially embarrass the government, such as asking about Matthew’s boyhood years in Winnipeg).
So, when I reached out to Matthew – again, this time after reading Kinzey’s piece, I said that I didn’t know whether he would even receive my email since I suspected “apparatchiks” in the government would see it first – and probably attempt to prevent me from communicating with him directly – again.
I was surprised then, to receive a very warm response from Matthew – in which he explained that he is no longer under the supervision of government “apparatchiks”.
Here’s what Matthew Levin wrote to me, in part:
Wonderful to hear from you! I’m so glad you made the effort to reach out.
I finished my posting to Spain a couple of months ago and am now back in Ottawa and transitioning to retirement. So no more apparatchiks.
First of all, I hope you’re well and coping successfully with these strange times.
Your lovely message brings back all sorts of very fond memories. It’s a long time since anyone called me Moishe (often shortened to Moish back then). I never saw most of my Peretz Shul classmates after I left the school, as Kinzey recalls, at the start of Grade 5 (a long story). Kinzey was one of the very few I did see occasionally, including a few times when he was playing with Finjan. But most of the others I completely lost touch with. Now I sometimes wonder what has become of many of them. It’s really heartwarming to think that Kinzey (Martin at the time and I believe he was Mordechai in Yiddish, or maybe Mendel) remembered me as he was writing this story. Since you and I and our group of friends never called each other by our Yiddish names I’m surprised, but delighted, that you thought of me when you saw this reference to a Moishe.
Thanks so much for sending along Kinzey’s story. I’m sending you this reply before having read it, because I didn’t want to delay getting back to you, but I’ll certainly read it with great interest and undoubtedly pleasure. I really feel honoured and delighted to be included. If you’re in touch with Kinzey, please thank him and give him a big hug – virtual of course for now – from me.
Features
“A Brilliant Life” – biography of one Holocaust survivor who, like so many other survivors, married someone just to try to establish some sense of normalcy
Book Review by JULIE KIRSH, “former Sun Media News Research Director
In 1946 my parents met, fell in love and married. In 1947 they had their first child. This was not unusual. However, they were 20 years apart in age.
After World War II, Holocaust survivors who had lost everything – family, home and community, sought to rebuild their lives by marrying, having children and restoring their shattered lives.
They wanted to experience normality which meant having a spouse, children and recreating a family that had been lost in the flames of the Holocaust.
The survivors were few in number so age difference, religious background or compatibility were not as crucially scrutinized as before the war.
The author of “My Brilliant Life’s” grandmother, Genya, whose family was from Poland, married young and was told by her religious father-in-law that she had to wear a sheitel or wig. Genya balked, but since all other Jewish observances were met, the marriage was sanctioned
Genya and her husband Dolfie had five children. The youngest child was Mira, mother of the author, Rachelle Unreich, who has written poignantly of her family’s history in “A Brilliant Life.”
In 2017, in Melbourne, Australia, 88-year-old Mira Unreich was diagnosed with cancer. Her journalist daughter, Rachelle, knew that time was limited and so she interviewed her mother extensively, to learn about her life before, during and after the Holocaust.
As her mother recounts, the transports started in Slovakia in March 1942, when Mira was one month shy of fifteen.
Dolfie, Mira’s father, was clever and prescient. He obtained false Christian papers for Mira and sent her to rent a room and work for a fabric store owner. He also told his family repeatedly that if they were in danger, each person should look after themself. Many times he said, you must “just save yourselves”.
By the end of August 1944, the noose around the family had tightened. Slovakia was not a safe haven for Jews and the end was imminent for the remaining Jewish families in Dolfie’s town. One day, SS officers burst into their home and shot Dolfie in front of his wife Genya, son Yanchi, and daughter Mira. This tragedy shadowed the lives of the family up to the present.
In Melbourne, Mira met and married Pavel, who was thirteen years her senior. Again, the match was not as much a love match, but for Mira it was a chance to have security and comfort after all that she had gone through in the Holocaust.
When Mira married in 1946, she was only 19 years old. Like my own 22-year-old mother – who married a man 20 years older than herself, Mira was fun-loving and strove to make up for lost time.
Less than two years after liberation, Mira gave birth to a son and then two daughters. The family moved to Paris, where Mira enjoyed everything the City of Lights had to offer. Pavel, on the other hand, was serious, less social, and more of an observer than a participant in life.
In 1959, Australia seemed remote and safe, a vast land of opportunity with a citizen army that was founded as an entity to defend all her people regardless of race or religion. At the time, Australia hosted the largest community of Holocaust survivors in the world outside of Israel. By 1960, Holocaust survivors and their families made up 60% of Melbourne’s Jewish community.
Eventually, Pavel left Mira and the family and died in Belgium, never remarrying. Mira met Manny, eleven years her senior, whose family had also experienced tragedy in the Holocaust. They were drawn to each other. In 1966, Rachelle, the author of A Brilliant Life, was born.
The title of the book reflects the kind of person Mira was. She was affectionate, considerate, and a capable mother who accommodated her children’s needs.
Mira, like most Holocaust survivors, had a number tattooed on her arm. As children of survivors, we see the tattoo as a blight and painful reminder. However the author had another insight. For her, the tattoo designated someone who could work and more importantly – had been chosen to live.
As a child of survivors, I have asked myself the question that the author asks Mira in Chapter 37: Why had she survived when so many others had not? The author believes that her mother had a purity, a spiritual honesty, that drew others to her, and that ultimately helped her to survive.
Mira was honoured by her children in death as she was in life. The words on her tombstone were stark and plain spoken: “She witnessed her father murdered by the Nazis/Her mother, brother and sister were killed in the Holocaust/She survived four concentration camps/yet she still loved her life with an unwavering positive attitude.”
My father survived Auschwitz and Buchenwald. Like Mira, he was a positive, happy man, who loved his family and adopted country. Mira, like my father, had seen the worst of humanity, yet they both chose to concentrate on the best of it.
Why is this Holocaust memoir different from others? Trauma runs deep and very often defines the post Holocaust lives of many survivors. For Mira, her trauma was superseded by her innate resilience, her strength of character and her capacity to overcome tragedy. Her hopeful nature gave sustenance and meaning to her family.
This is a story that resonated for me personally, underscored by the universal themes of love and hope common to all.
“A Brilliant Life”
by Rachelle Unreich.
Published by Black & White Publishing, 2023
Features
Tiblisi, Georgia – a new hotbed for dental tourism, especially for Israelis
Introduction: A few weeks ago we received an interesting email from someone who asked whether we would consider publishing a story about dental tourism in Georgia (not the Georgia in the U.S. – the Georgia that is a former Soviet republic). In that email we were told that Georgia has become an especially popular destination for Israelis looking for quality dental care at affordable prices. So we responded: Go ahead and send us something.
The author of what you’re about to read, whose name is Constantin Dicusar, admits that English is not his first language, so he asks that you forgive any awkward phrasing. But I’m sure that, if you read at least part of this story you’ll be intrigued by what he has to say about a part of the world that I doubt many of our readers know much about.
By CONSTANTIN DICUSAR Tbilisi, Georgia, is the latest destination for Jews from all over the world seeking dental tourism. Dr. Iza Dzidzikashvili, co-founder of a dental clinic in Tiblisi, says: “Jews come from all over the world and choose Georgia because of the low level of anti-Semitism, the low prices and the high quality, as well as the good relations between Israel and Georgia.”
Georgia is a country in the South Caucasus that is relatively little known in the West and in Canada. In 1991, it declared its independence from the USSR, becoming one of the first Soviet union republics to break away from the former imperial power, which was to collapse a year later.
Although it has only very recently chosen to pursue the path of European integration, Georgian society had already distinguished itself long before independence as a nation with deep-rooted Christian-European cultural and civilisational values. Georgian hospitality bears many similarities to that of Moldova, and Georgian wines, renowned throughout the world, have made Georgia the cradle of global winemaking.
Georgian wines are believed to have an 8,000-year-old tradition based on the unique method of fermentation in clay vessels called qvevri, which are included in UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list. Among other interesting facts, Georgia was one of the first nations in the world to adopt Christianity as its state religion, in the 4th century.
More recently, Georgia has also managed to build a strong reputation in another sector: international dental tourism. Tens of thousands of tourists from all over the world visit Georgia every year – particularly the capital, Tbilisi – to combine sightseeing with dental treatment.
According to Georgia Today, the majority of foreign tourist-patients come from neighbouring countries or the wider region (Russia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, as well as from the Middle East – Israel, Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia). In recent years, Georgia has also become a magnet for many people from Europe and the US. Jews – both Israeli citizens and Jews from the Diaspora and around the world – represent a distinct group of patients who have chosen Georgia for dental services.
Read more about this in the exclusive interview conducted with Dr Iza Dzidzikashvili, a dentist, practising surgeon and co-founder of Bucho Denti in Tbilisi, Georgia:
Constantin Dicusar (for jewishpostandnews.ca): When was Bucho Denti founded, and who is behind the project? Tell us more about how your story began.
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: First of all, welcome, and thank you very much for your interest in our clinic. Bucho Denti was founded in 2000 by sisters Iza and Tea Dzidzikashvili and Vasif Aliyev. Today, all three are among the leading dental specialists in Tbilisi. Since we were already three experienced specialists, we decided to create an environment where patients could feel comfortable, safe, and confident, while receiving the highest standard of dental care. This philosophy became the foundation of Bucho Denti and continues to guide our development today.
Constantin Dicusar: What do you know about international dental tourism in the Caucasus region, and specifically in Georgia and Tbilisi?Dr. Iza Dzidzikashvili, dentist, surgeon practicing and co-founder of Bucho Denti: International dental tourism has been growing significantly in the Caucasus region, and particularly in Georgia. One of the main reasons is Georgia’s combination of hospitality, safety, high-quality dental care, and affordability. Dental standards in Georgia are comparable to European standards, while treatment costs are more accessible than in many other countries. This combination of quality, safety, affordability, and comfort has created growing interest among international patients.
Constantin Dicusar (The Jewish Post & News reporter): How has international dental tourism changed your operational, staffing, sales, and marketing strategie
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: The growth of international dental tourism significantly changed our vision and the way we operate. One of our main goals became to reduce the overall treatment time as much as possible — without compromising quality. We developed our infrastructure and workflows to allow patients to complete their treatment efficiently while maintaining a high standard of care. We also introduced complete treatment packages that can include hotel accommodation, airport transfers, and other services international patients may need. Our goal is to make patients feel safe, comfortable, and supported throughout their entire stay. We also incorporated tourism into the experience, giving patients the opportunity to explore Georgia and travel during their treatment period.
Constantin Dicusar: Did you envision engaging in international dental tourism right from the time the clinic was established, or did that come about later?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: To be honest, we had always considered the idea of working with international patients. However, this direction developed much more actively as demand for international dental treatment increased. We adapted and developed our services according to the needs of international patients.
Constantin Dicusar: Tell us more about your staff. In which languages do you communicate with your international patients, and does the multilingual staff include dental assistants as well as the doctors themselves?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: Our doctors have decades of professional experience, with some of our specialists having more than 30 years of experience. Our team communicates with international patients in English. To make the experience even more comfortable, we also provide communication support in Hebrew and Arabic, including professional interpreters. For us, it is very important that patients understand every stage of their treatment clearly and feel comfortable throughout the process.
Constantin Dicusar: Let’s also talk about international patients: which countries do most of them come from, and which dental services do they seek out most often? We know from reports originating in Israel and Georgia that Tbilisi has become an increasingly popular dental destination, frequently chosen by Jewish patients as well. Have you observed this trend at your clinic? If so, which countries do most of these Jewish patients come from?
Dr. Dzidzikashvilii: Yes, we have definitely noticed this trend, and the number of Jewish patients has been increasing every year. We would like to point out that the majority of our Jewish patients are citizens of Israel; they come from Israel. One important factor is the relatively short travel time between Israel and Tbilisi — approximately 2 hours and 30 minutes. Dental treatment in Georgia is also more affordable compared with Israel. Georgia is already well known and popular among Israeli travelers, so patients are generally familiar with the country and feel more confident about choosing it for treatment. After Israel, the United Kingdom is another important market for us, followed by different European countries. We have also treated Jewish patients from Canada, which shows that interest in Georgia is not limited to one or another particular country. The most common treatments requested by international patients are full-mouth rehabilitation, dental implants, and zirconia crowns.
Constantin Dicusar: Do you think that the good relations between Israel and Georgia, along with the low level of antisemitism in Georgia, encourage Jewish patients—particularly Russian-speaking Jews from across the former Soviet Union—to choose Georgia for such services?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: Of course, the long-standing friendship and positive relationship between Georgia and Israel is very important. This relationship helps Israeli patients feel safe and comfortable when choosing Georgia for treatment. When a patient travels to another country for medical care, price and quality are not the only factors that matter. Trust, safety, communication, and the overall environment are equally important. We believe that the strong relationship between Georgia and Israel contributes significantly to this sense of trust.
Constantin Dicusar: What strategies do you plan to develop over the coming years to grow international dental tourism? Are you considering becoming more attractive destination for Jewish people from Canada and USA who are looking for dental services that are more affordable than those in their home countries?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: In the future, our goal is to create a large-scale international dental center where everything is available in one place. We envision a facility combining a dental clinic, hotel, and restaurant, creating a comfortable environment specifically designed for international patients. Our vision is for patients to receive high-quality dental treatment, relax, enjoy their stay, and, if they wish, explore Georgia — all as part of one complete experience. At the same time, we are actively working to make Bucho Denti better known internationally and to reach more patients who could benefit from our services. Our main goal is to offer international patients accessible treatment while maintaining European-level standards of dental care.
Constantin Dicusar: Finally, we would like to turn our attention once more to Georgia and Tbilisi as tourist destinations. You are likely aware that in Europe—particularly in the western part—the worrying rise of antisemitism has limited the options available to Jewish travelers seeking dental tourism. Budapest remains the dental capital of Europe and is well-known within the Jewish community; more recently, Romania, Moldova, and perhaps Riga (Latvia) have also emerged as options, each offering distinct advantages and tourism amenities. From this perspective, what can Georgia and its capital, Tbilisi, offer? What makes Georgia unique as a destination compared to the others?
Dr. Dzidzikashvili: Compared with the countries you mentioned, one of Georgia’s main advantages is the combination of more affordable dental treatment with European-level quality. Another important advantage is the availability of complete treatment packages, including dental care, accommodation, transfers, and other services. Georgia is also an attractive tourism destination. Patients can combine their dental treatment with the opportunity to explore beautiful places, experience Georgian culture, and discover the country. Safety is another important factor. Georgia is a relatively small country, which contributes to a well-controlled environment, and the level of crime is relatively low. Ultimately, we believe that the combination of quality, affordability, safety, hospitality, and tourism opportunities gives Georgia a unique position. Our goal is that when an international patient comes to Georgia, they receive not only high-quality dental treatment, but a complete, safe, comfortable, and well-organized patient experience from beginning to end.
Features
Buck In Situ: A Dog Story
By DAVID TOPPER I suppose the first thing I should say is that, although this is a true story, it’s not about a real dog. (That may be obvious if you look at the picture accompanying this tale.) Yes, the dog – a wooden statue – is Buck.
I do want to explain what “in situ” means. For those who know the term, it betrays the fact that I was a teacher of art history before I retired. It’s a Latin term that refers to an art object being in its original or natural place. For example, the famous Elgin Marbles (statues of Greek gods, goddesses and other mythological figures), which are prized objects in the British Museum in London, were taken by Lord Elgin from the Acropolis high over Athens in Greece, in the early 19th century. If the museum ever returns the statues (as Greeks have been demanding them to do for years), and if the statues were then placed back on the Acropolis – then they would be “in situ.”
All this has been my way of introducing you to a story about a little statue that has been sitting in my home ever since my late wife, Sylvia, and I returned from a trip to Jamaica many years ago.
Here’s Buck’s story. One afternoon during our vacation on the island, we went to an Art Fair. I was particularly interested in wooden carvings. There was a long line of tables, end to end, with different carvers showing off their wares. As we walked along the tables, among the different carvers, I was dumbfounded because they were all carving the same statues! Different artists: same statues. The statues were of some local deities; none of whom I had any interest in taking back home – no matter what magic it could perform.
Sylvia and I were baffled as we strolled along the long row, eventually coming to the end. Then, lo and behold: the last carver was carving different statues – not necessarily of gods. Coming across his table filled with a wide variety of subjects was a breath of fresh air.
Of course, the first thing I asked him was why everyone else was carving the same things. His answer was simply that they thought that was what tourists wanted, and they were afraid to try anything else. I asked him why he was not afraid. He said he was afraid; nonetheless, he would be bored doing the same thing over and over – even if he made more money.
By now you can see where this story is going. It was among his wares, on the last table, that I saw the statue of the dog – which I immediately fell for. Sylvia, a dog lover, fell for it, too, and hence we bought it. I don’t recall the price, or if we haggled over it. But what I do remember – and why I am telling this story – is this. While talking with him and watching him at work, I noticed the way he was squinting. I asked him about this, and he said his eyes were not what they used to be, that he needed glasses but he couldn’t afford them.
At the time, I was in an early stage of permanently wearing glasses. Having gone through various stages of over-the-counter reading glasses during the previous decade or more, I was now wearing my first prescription glasses. I gave them to the carver to try on, and he said they were too strong. “Good,” I said. I told him I had several pair of different power reading glasses at home, which I had used before I got these. I’d be pleased to mail him those glasses, which perhaps could get him through the next decade or more. He gave me his address, and that’s when I found that his name – or, maybe, it was his nickname – was Buck.
“Would you mind if I name the dog Buck?” I asked – because I liked that name for the dog. He had no problem with that, and hence Buck it was, and Buck it always will be.
Not long after we got home, I mailed a box of glasses to Buck. Although I had my return address on the box (in case it got lost) I never heard from him. I didn’t expect to; yet occasionally I talk to my Buck and tell him that I hope the Buck whom he is named after, is still using a pair of the glasses I sent him. It would be comforting to know. My Buck agrees, I trust.
From the photo you can see that Buck sits at the foot of a staircase. Those stairs start in the front entrance of our home and go to the second floor. Buck not only stands on-guard, watching all who enter the house, but he also plays the following role. If I want to remind myself of something without having a paper and pencil handy, I just turn Buck around – say, on my way upstairs for the night. In the morning, coming down the stairs, I see that Buck is reminding me to do something. Although, I must confess, sometimes I can’t recall exactly what it was!
Finally, I live in Winnipeg, Canada. I know that’s far from the island of Jamaica, but here Buck has become a part of our life. All the family knows that if Buck is turned around – it means something! I therefore believe that it’s not stretching the terminology t-o-o much by calling this memoir: “Buck In Situ: A Dog Story.” To me, Buck is right where he belongs.
David R. Topper writes in Winnipeg, Canada. His work has appeared in Mono, Poetic Sun, Discretionary Love, Poetry Pacific,Academy of theHeart & Mind, Altered Reality Mag. and elsewhere.
His poem Seascape with Gulls: My Father’s Last Painting won first prize in the annual poetry contest of CommuterLit Mag – May 12, 2025.
