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
Ian Shaffer: set the template for medical management
By GERRY POSNER I ask myself every time I come across yet another Jewish psychiatrist from Winnipeg. Did Winnipeg have a factory that produced Jewish shrinks? Recently I came across yet another name of yet another very accomplished psychiatrist with Winnipeg roots: Ian Shaffer, a former River Heights resident.
Ian and his brother Marvin were the sons of the late Saul and Molly Shaffer. From his beginnings on Queenston Street, Ian has ended up with two residences – one in New York City and the other in Fort Myers, Florida – but with a few stops along the way.
It all began in Winnipeg when Ian graduated from the University of Manitoba in 1968 with a medical degree in psychiatry. Today, in addition to the MD following his name, Shaffer also has an MMM (Masters of Medical Management), CPE (Certified Physician Executive), and LFAPA (Life Fellow of the American Psychiatric Association). Recite that a hundred times and you still might not get it right.
Shaffer’s career as a psychiatrist didn’t follow the the traditional path of most graduates. Although he did maintain a practice in Child, Adolescent and Adult Psychiatry, focusing on assessment, planning and pharmacotherapy for a period of his career, he veered into what might be called a more managerial mode of medicine. Keep in mind that his work has encompassed medical licenses in four differerent jurisdictions: California, Virginia, New York, and Florida. As well, Ian is board certified with the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology, the American Society of Addiction Medicine, the American Board of Quality Assurance Utilization Review Physicians, (a mouthful at any time of the day), and the American Board of Medical Management.
In 1973 when Shaffer was in private practice in both San Marino and Encino, California. Between 1973-1989 he worked as a practicing psychiatrist. Around 1989, he became affiliated with a group called the Western Health Associated Medical Group in Los Angeles. It was there his career took a different route as he became not only a medical practitioner but, in addition, one of two managing partners in a large psychiatric group that directed care programs providing mental health care to over 70,000 people. That seemed to launch Ian into the role of management in different capacities.
In 1991, he and his wife (the former Reeva Wolk of Winnipeg) moved to the Metro Washington, D.C. area, where Ian assumed the position of Vice President, Medical Affairs/Chief Medical Officer, providing oversight of clinical care management for over 37 million people. He had to manage 30 physicians and other management personnel. I suggest that you have to be able to handle people well in a position like that and clearly, Ian Shaffer had that skill set.
From that time forward, Ian has been involved in significant management and consulting roles for various health care systems. In 2011, right up to the present, among his many responsibilities, Ian was the principal consultant to Behavioral Health Management Solutions – PLLC. Even before establishing himself in that role, as Vice President and Executive Medical Director – the go-to guy responsible for behavioral health program management, he had been actively involved in working on behavioral health issues confronting military and veteran populations, also their families.
Shaffer’s career has also included working closely with several Fortune 100 companies, including IBM, General Motors, Chrysler, Shell Oil, Chevron, and others. On three occasions, he served as chairman of the Association of Behavioral Health and Wellness (ABHW for those familiar with the acronym). He also served on several federal government committees, including a three-year term on the National Advisory Committee for the Center for Mental Health Services. To put it succinctly, Ian has been around the block in terms of his working with large companies and, moreover with government at many levels. He has focussed on redesigning health programmes regarding the delivery of those programmes, also reimbursement for those programmes. What does that mean?
What it means for Ian Shaffer is that he is responsible for the development of various behavioral health programmes to meet New York State requirements for health benefits for indivdiuals with serious mental illness and substance use disorders. That includes large numbers of people with persistent and significant general mental illness. What strikes me immediately is that even though Ian is retired now, living in New York City and Florida, he has still been a regular part of a team assisting the Government of New York State with the purpose of trying to improve the care for residents of the state who suffer from mental illness and substance use disorders. This particular appointment was from the New York senate, no less. I say those are lofty heights for a kid from River Heights in Winnipeg once a long time ago.
Clearly, one of Shaffer’s greatest assets – and a reason why he has been and still is in demand throughout his career, is that he epitomizes what it means to be a strategic thinker, not simply an operator. He sees the big picture and then hires the people to implement his vision. He is also quick to acknowledge the benefits of his growing up in Winnipeg – where he learned to form bonds, relationships, and the importance of commitment and following through with your commitment.
Ian puts it this way: “ Reeva and I lived in Los Angeles for twenty-three years where relationships are a mile wide and an inch deep, but in Winnipeg, my relationships were an inch wide and and a mile deep. “ He also credits the excellent training he received at the Manitoba Medical School (and later at the LA County University of Southern California Medical Centre.)
Reeva and Ian do leave Fort Myers, Florida to get back to Winnipeg (not likely in the winter) for important occasions, such as his medical school reunions. They are the parents of four children, ten grandchildren and , get this – eight great grandchildren. His story is one I hope his grandkids learn and appreciate as it reflects a remarkably satisfying career where Ian Shaffer made a difference to so many others.
Features
The Clash of Civilizations Continues, Like it or Not
By HENRY SREBRNIK I’m not being faux humble when I say I consider Niall Ferguson more erudite and better read than I am. He has taught at Oxford and New York University. As for impact? He reaches millions of people. Me? Probably thousands – I hope.
But in a Sept. 11, 2025, article, “Osama bin Laden’s Posthumous Victory,” published in the Free Press of New York, on the anniversary of 9/11, Ferguson admitted that it took him almost 25 years to finally agree that the late Harvard professor Samuel Huntington’s seminal 1993 masterpiece “The Clash of Civilizations” was indeed the correct way to understand our modern world. Huntington later expanded his thesis in a 1996 book, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order.
I, on the other hand, already agreed with this view — in fact, this was the case even before I read Huntington. I guess it comes down to perspective and “lived experience,” which can trump even sheer intelligence.
Ferguson writes: “Over the past 24 years, I have valiantly tried to see 9/11 differently — not as a civilizational clash between Islam and ‘the West’ but as something that fit better into my own secular frame of reference. Raised an atheist, trained as an economic historian, I felt obliged to look behind what I took to be the facade of religious zealotry.” He goes on: “On reflection, I see that I was overthinking the event. Or perhaps under-thinking it.”
What did Huntington posit, in a nutshell? He suggested that “the fundamental source of conflict” in the world after the Cold War would be “cultural,” and “the principal conflicts of global politics” would be “between nations and groups of different civilizations.” He provided a number of these civilizations: Western, by which he meant Western European Christian and its settler offshoots; East Asian Confucian; Japanese; Islamic; Hindu; Slavic-Orthodox; Latin American; and African. (Some of these categories were admittedly rather vague.)
Some countries, he contended, had severe internal cultural divisions within them, leading to civil conflict. Lebanon, Sri Lanka, and Yugoslavia, which all dissolved in civil wars, were obvious examples. But Huntington in particular predicted that the “centuries-old military interaction between the West and Islam” would become “more virulent,” since Islam and Western civilization were, in his view, fundamentally incompatible.
Huntington didn’t, for whatever reason, divide Islam into Sunni and Shia branches, considering this is an internal quarrel, unlike his separation of the Christian divisions (Catholic-Protestant, Slavic-Orthodox, and a syncretic Latin American). The “African” civilizational category encompassed everything south of the Islamic north African, east African, and Sahel regions of the continent, and seemed to reflect its myriad indigenous religions. And yes, in his conception, Israel stood alone. In his perspective, Israel was not just a country in dispute but the frontline of a centuries-old religious war.
There were several adjustments over the years, as a reader will notice when looking at the various world maps illustrating his theory on the internet.
Huntington also foresaw a “Confucian-Islamic military connection” that would culminate in a conflict between “The West and the Rest.” I however see any such alliance as pure pragmatism and one that wouldn’t last, were the “West” to be defeated. There are no cultural affinities between the Muslim world, on the one hand, and the east and southeast Asian Confucian and Buddhist civilizations on the other. They too would eventually come into conflict.
Amongst the younger generation of “proto-woke Ivy League professors,” Huntington was widely mocked for his “essentialism,” Ferguson notes. But consider, with Huntington’s argument in mind, all that has happened since September 9, 2001.
The Hamas attack on Israel two years ago was essentially an Israeli 9/11. At the same time, Western civilization today is much more divided than it was 24 years ago. The public response to the Gaza War has illuminated these. Whereas older people generally remain more pro-Israeli than pro-Palestinian, younger ones have swung the other way.
According to an August 6 study by the Brookings Institute, support for Israel in the United States continues to deteriorate, especially among young people. Among Democrats, there has been an increase of 62 per cent to 71 percent with an unfavourable view of Israel in the 18- to 49-year-old demographic. Only nine per cent of those aged 18 to 34 approve of Israel’s military actions in Gaza. Even young Republicans aged 18-49 have shifted from 35 per cent having an unfavourable view of Israel to 50 per cent unfavourable.
In Britain, the Campaign Against Antisemitism surveyed British adults’ attitudes towards Jews. The findings show that antisemitism has risen to the highest levels on record since they began these. Once again, the swing towards antisemitism is more pronounced amongst the young: 45 per cent of the British public believes that Israel treats the Palestinians like the Nazis treated the Jews, and 60 per cent of young people believe this. Only 31 per cent of young voters agree that Israel has a right to exist as a homeland for the Jewish people, while 26 per cent of the British public believes that Israel can get away with anything because its supporters control the media. As well, 19 per cent of young people believe that the Hamas attack on Israel was justified.
Huntington, and now Ferguson, would tell you this: the “West” is now unsure of itself and is in ideological disarray. If 9/11 didn’t convince you of that, maybe 10/7 will.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.
Features
New movie, “Bau, Artist at War,” scheduled to open in Winnipeg on Sept. 26, tells the amazing story of Joseph Bau, whose marriage to his wife Rebecca was made famous in “Schindler’s List”
“They can starve us, beat us, cage us – but they could never kill our spirit.“ – Joseph Bau
A gripping new movie, titled Bau, Artist at War, scheduled to open in Winnipeg on Sept. 26 at the Grant Park Landmark Theatre, tells the story of Joseph Bau, whose dramatization of his marriage in Plaszow concentration camp to his wife Rebecca was an unforgettable scene in the movie Schindler’s List.
The film is based in large part on Bau’s memoir, Dear God, Have You Ever Gone Hungry? (published in 1998). The film was written by Deborah Smerecnik, Ron Bass, and Sonia Kifferstein, and is directed by Sean McNamara.
Featuring stellar performances by Emile Hirsche (who appeared in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) as the protagonist, and Inbar Lavi (who appeared in the Israeli television series Fauda and the U.S. television series Imposters) as Rebecca, the movie is a combination love story and espionage tale that deserves attention in an era, as one commentator has said, “where survivors are fading away, and the Holocaust is slipping from memory.” It’s also a story about resistance during the Holocaust.
In the movie, during his time in Plaszow Concentration Camp, Bau is a Jewish forger, an artist and a designer. He is employed by the brutal commandant Josef Liepold to draw a newly planned wing in the prison. He is simultaneously forging IDs for Jewish inmates helping them escape the prison. Hirsche as Bau, also draws comics for the prisoners, and his gift of art inspires his future wife with his colorful “lifegiving” creations, to which she responds in the gloomy setting of the death camp. McNamara cleverly intercuts these wonderful artworks within the film’s action.
Joseph Bau was a man who defied the darkness of the Holocaust with art, humor, and an unbreakable spirit. A gifted artist and master forger, Bau risked his life to save others, using his talent to create false documents that helped fellow prisoners escape certain death. But in the depths of despair, he discovered something even more powerful…love.
In the Plaszow concentration camp, amid relentless brutality, Joseph met Rebecca – a woman whose courage matched his own.
Years later, when Joseph is called to testify against the sadistic Nazi officer who tormented him, he is forced to relive the horrors of his past. But through it all, he draws strength from the love that saved him, the art that sustained him, and the unyielding will that kept him alive.
A gripping war drama, a daring espionage thriller, and one of the greatest love stories of our time, Bau, Artist at War is a testament to the power of resilience, the triumph of the human spirit, and the unbreakable bonds that even war could not destroy.