Connect with us

Features

NHLer Zach Hyman Speaks Out Against Anti-Semitism

Edmonton Oilers forward Zach Hyman spoke out against anti semitism (Photo by Jenn G This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license).

It’s been a breakout NHL season for both Zach Hyman and the Edmonton Oilers. For the first time since the 2005-06, the Oilers are playing in the Stanley Cup final.
At the outset of the season, if you were someone who bet on sports online, you probably wouldn’t have backed the Oilers to be in the Cup final series. Then again, if you were going to bet on an Edmonton player to enjoy a 50-goal season, Hyman wouldn’t have been your first choice, either.
That both outcomes would occur in the same campaign is truly remarkable.
Hyman, who netted a career-high 36 goals for Edmonton during the 2022-23 season, followed up with a 54-goal output this season, making NHL history in the process. He’s the first player of Jewish descent to record a 50-goal season ever in the NHL, a league that’s been playing games since 1917.
“I’m very proud of who I am,” Hyman told Sportsnet. “I’m proud of being Jewish. I’m proud of growing up in the Jewish community . . . and I’m proud of where we come from.”
Raised in the Jewish community of Toronto, Hyman is the grandson of Holocaust survivors. He was schooled in Judaism from kindergarten through Grade 12.
Hyman, though, is more than merely a spectacular hockey player. He’s someone who will always be willing to stand up for his people. When antisemitism reared its ugly head in Canada, Hyman didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the pulpit professional sports affords him to speak out against such intolerance.
Hyman: Antisemitism Must Be Eradicated
Hyman looks at what’s going on around the world and most significantly, in the areas where he and his family reside and is justifiably alarmed. There’s been a rapid escalation in antisemitic acts since the conflict between Israel and Palestine began in October of 2023.
In the USA, the Anti-Defamation League reported a 337% increase in hate crimes against Jews between October-December 2023 from the same time frame in 2022.
“Antisemitism has been rising for years, and it’s now reached the point where . . . it’s scary,” Hyman said. “It’s very clear that antisemitism as a result of what’s going on has been on the rise. Jewish people . . . don’t feel safe. There are attacks on synagogues. My high school [in Toronto] has had two bomb threats. This is just for being Jewish. It’s just because you’re Jewish. There’s no other reason.
“We live in Canada, in the US, where these things shouldn’t be happening. And we can’t turn a blind eye to it. Being a Jewish person doesn’t feel comfortable right now, and that’s a scary feeling.”
As much as he worries for his fellow Jews, Hyman believes that everyone of all faiths should be extremely alarmed at the hatred being directed toward his people.
“Even more so for people who are not Jewish, it’s important to recognize the rise in antisemitism, and to speak out and say, ‘Hey, no matter what’s going on in the world, there are Jews in North America who have nothing to do with what’s happening elsewhere, who do not feel safe.’ Hyman said.
“And that’s not OK. That should not should not be the case. And it’s on full display.
“Full display.”


College Protests Also Alarming

Hyman played college hockey at Michigan (Photo by Brapai. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license).

Hyman played US college hockey. He looks at what’s taking place on US college campuses, where some protesters are calling for Jewish genocide and he is utterly shocked that such talk is not being condemned by the university hierarchy.
“I went to the University of Michigan,” Hyman said. “I was a Jewish student athlete. If I was on campus and my president was not able to say that [a call for genocide] is not OK, I wouldn’t want to be at that school. It’s outright scary.”
Hyman worries about what the lack of de-escalation of such protests could lead to if they continue unchecked.
“This is a clear wakeup call,” he said. “The people who are going to those schools are the next generation of leaders in the United States. For representation to not be able to speak out against genocide, to say ‘This is not OK . . .’”
It’s not merely Jews that Hyman fears for if the slide down this slippery slope continues unabated.
“We need to protect not just our Jewish students, but all students against hate speech,” Hyman said.
Talking The Talk And Walking The Walk
Hyman’s pride in his Jewish faith assures that he’ll never shy away from the chance to speak out about issues that are impacting his fellow Jews.
He feels a responsibility to do so.
“As somebody that young Jewish kids look up to — not just an athlete, but as a proud Jewish person — I think it’s important that when things are really tough, a community binds together,” Hyman said. “It sticks together and fights antisemitism.”
He can draw upon evidence within his own family tree as to what horrors can result if such hate crimes and hate speech continue without resistance. As a youngster, Hyman knew that his grandfather walked with a limp, but didn’t know why.
As he grew older, the answer was explained to him. Hyman’s grandfather had been shot in the leg by German soldiers when en route to a concentration camp during World War II.
“A lot of my friends growing up have very similar stories,” Hyman explained to Sportsnet’s Mark Spector. “Grandparents who have gone through the same thing.”
Those events took place nearly a century ago. Society allegedly has evolved since that terrible time in the existence of humanity.
“We’re in the year 2023,” Hyman said. “It’s supposed to be getting better. We are supposed to be trying to eradicate hate, racism, antisemitism . . . any type of prejudice.”

Continue Reading

Features

I Speak “Jew”

Morrocan Jewish fish dish

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

Continue Reading

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.  

Continue Reading

Features

Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco

“The Chronos of Andalucia” author Merom Toledano

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.        

Continue Reading

Copyright © 2017 - 2023 Jewish Post & News