Features
Return to Ukraine: searching out the Rosner family past
Introduction: Not too long ago we were contacted by former CBC Manitoba managing editor Cecil Rosner, who asked us whether we’d be interested in publishing a story about a trip he took in 2012 to visit the area in Ukraine where both his parents were born. Although it’s been 10 years since Cecil visited Ukraine, given the current situation in that country we thought it timely to get a sense of what life was like in Ukraine prior to the Russian invasion.
By CECIL ROSNER ““Oi — look at the way the schlemiel drives.”
We are bouncing along the potholed roads of Western Ukraine, heading from Lviv to my mother’s hometown of Buczacz. Our driver and guide isn’t Jewish, but that doesn’t stop him from endlessly whistling Fiddler on the Roof tunes and inserting Yiddishisms into every second phrase.
“These guys are all ganefs (thieves),” he says of the policemen we pass, as he forms his thumb and forefinger into a pistol and slowly pulls the trigger. Alex doesn’t like the speed traps the highway patrols set up, and he appreciates oncoming drivers signalling him to beware of cops just beyond the next hill. It’s an important issue for our driver, who crisscrosses Ukraine’s roads all year-long, ferrying tourists to distant towns and villages in search of their Jewish ancestors.
For Alex, who holds a history degree and is an expert at tracing genealogical roots, it’s an occupation he never dreamed he would have. But in the chaos of the Soviet Union’s collapse, when jobs were evaporating and everyone was trying to reimagine their lives, it seemed like a useful niche to pursue – especially as foreigners were finally trying to discover exactly what had happened to their relatives during the Second World War.
That’s why I’m here too, along with my wife and a cousin. Both of my parents were born in the region, and both were here when the Nazis occupied the area in 1941. In different improbable and miraculous ways, they both survived the war and emigrated to Canada. But every single other family member was shot, gassed, beaten or starved to death by the Nazis and their collaborators. We came here to see what traces of their lives remained.
It seemed logical to make our first stop the local museum, right across from the old city hall. Buczacz is little more than a village, with about 13,000 people. In the early part of the 19th century, Jews made up two-thirds of the population. While that number ebbed and flowed over the years, Jews were still in the majority when the Nazi occupation began. But that would have been difficult to discern in the museum.
In all the display cases, and in the colourful photo album that the town produces, there is no specific mention of a Jewish population. There is scarcely any reference to the Second World War, except for a notation that the town “was released from German invaders and captured by the Soviet Union.” Wouldn’t a town’s museum want to address what became of the majority of the population? What happened to thousands of farmers, shop owners, tailors, tinsmiths, doctors, lawyers and politicians? Doesn’t the mass roundup and extermination of most people in town even rate a mention?
The only hint of any Jewish presence came in the form of artifacts from the life of Shmuel Agnon, a Jewish writer born in Buczacz who won the Nobel Prize for literature. But the entire fate of the people Agnon wrote about had been erased.
Alex had little luck getting the museum’s employee to throw any light on what the town was like in the immediate pre-war period. She genuinely seemed not to know. But there were a few things I already knew.
My mother, Mina, had been born here in 1913, and her family owned a wholesale distribution company. They carbonated water and stored it in big, forty-litre copper cylinders, shipping them along with ice to shops throughout the area. When she was 25, she married my father, Michael Rosner, who came from nearby Kolomaya. In 1939, they opened a small retail store on the main town square, probably within metres of the present-day museum.
When the war broke out in September 1939, there was a reprieve. The region came under the control of the Soviets, and Jews were under no immediate threat. All that changed when Hitler marched eastward in 1941. My father was conscripted by the retreating Soviets, and my mother was trapped behind Nazi lines for the remainder of the war.
For the next three years, every member of my mother’s family – her parents, five brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and cousins – were dragged from their hiding places, bludgeoned or shot, or sent off to be executed. They were all dumped into unmarked graves. My parents’ first-born child – my brother – also fell victim, dying at the age of three in 1942.
My mother’s survival defied any normal odds. She fled from one hiding place to another, escaping just in time to avoid capture. She spent 11 months in the attic of a Polish family along with five other Jews. She took an assumed name and boldly convinced the Nazis she was Christian. Finally, after Buczacz was liberated, she re-united with my father and they came to Canada to start anew in 1948.
I had been to Buczacz once before, with my mother, in 1990. We came with a documentary crew to record her first visit back home since the war. It was an emotional trip and a difficult one for both of us. But we learned very little of the actual events that had transpired in the town, or the exact locations where they happened. That’s why, nearly 15 years after my mother’s death, I was returning for a second time.
I convinced Alex that our best strategy on this trip would be to find older people and ask them what they knew about the 30s and 40s. Alex seemed skeptical. For one thing, the war had begun more than 70 years ago, so it was unlikely there would be any useful first-hand witnesses at hand. And there was also the collective amnesia that pertained to inconvenient truths.
After all, a segment of the population had actively collaborated with Hitler. They were instrumental in helping identify and round up the Jews, the Communists, and all the other elements the Nazis wanted to destroy. Some might still be living in Buczacz and surrounding areas. Their children and grandchildren almost certainly are here.
The museum’s employee finally gives us a sliver of hope. There is someone in town we should visit – someone who knows the history and might be able to help us. His name is Mykola.
We drive for a few minutes and stop at Mykola’s house. I am expecting to find an elderly man who may have been a teenager during the war. Instead, we come upon a 40-something man in sweatpants and a Maple Leafs T-shirt. He is clutching a handful of papers and photographs. One of them shows a photo of Buczacz’s surviving Jews standing beside a memorial gravestone in 1944. Out of the original population of 10,000, no more than 100 survived. One of the people in the photo is my mother.
Mykola has taken an interest in wartime history, and now helps visiting tourists locate family remnants. He has a variety of interesting documents, including a map of pre-war street names, and a mid-19th century register of townsfolk. It turns out that he knows about some of the Jewish families that lived in Buczacz during the war – a handful of them have returned over the years, and he has helped them find their old homes and landmarks.
We ask Mykola if he could help solve a puzzle my mother and I couldn’t figure out on our previous trip. Her family had lived on a street called Zeblickevicie, which had changed names several times after the war. From her description, though, we knew it was beside a stream that ran into the Strypa River, a subsidiary of the Dniester.
We pile into the car along with Mykola and he directs us to the location. The stream had been covered over, except at the point where it emptied into the Strypa. Though the original home was no longer there, he shows us the exact location where my mother’s family had lived. I saw the idyllic surroundings, the lush vegetation around the quiet river, and for the first time I had an inkling of the peaceful life my mother experienced before the war changed everything.
While we were all walking along the old Zeblickevicie street, Mykola bumps into a friend and exchanges a few words with him. As we walk on, the friend stops my wife, Harriet, and our cousin Nina and says: “Mina Rosner – I am a Witness.” That is the name of my mother’s book. Alex is impatient. He had rich experience of locals trying to pester visitors, and he was eager to move us all along. But Harriet and Nina persist. It turns out the man on our chance encounter knows all about my mother’s story, and offers to take us on a tour of where she lived, where she went to school, where she hid during the war, and where her family members were killed.
Over the next 24 hours, Alex grudgingly admits he was wrong. Our serendipitous encounter has linked us up with Jura, a 60-year-old retired computer technician, astrologist and local historian. He knows my mother’s exact birthdate, and, it appears, everyone else’s in town. He has a photocopied version of my mother’s book, and he has pieced together her recollections with precise locations of many of the events she describes. If photographic memories actually exist, we figure he has one. He is a visiting tourist’s dream come true, and Alex has to take a back seat while Jura takes us on a remarkable tour of my mother’s life.
The first stop is just around the corner, on a street that used to be called Chechego Maya. I remember it from my mother’s stories, but we could never pinpoint it on our previous trip. Jura shows us the building where my mother’s sister and her husband ran a hardware shop. He knows the address because it’s listed in trade publications of the era. Though my mother’s original house and her parents’ store no longer existed, I finally had an authentic touchstone of some of her family’s life at the time.
Jura takes us to the pre-war building on Kolejowa Street that served as the cheder, the religious school, where Jewish kids studied. We visit the girls’ school and middle school where my mother was a student, and walk into Buczacz’s Sokol theatre, where she watched dramatic performances and movies as a teenager. A group of children is rehearsing a musical concert on stage, and I can imagine my mother sitting in the auditorium with her brothers and sisters and friends.
Just down the road, near an orchard, Jura shows us the garden of a long-ago demolished home where my mother hid during one of the Nazi aktions, or periodic killing sprees. A bunker had been constructed in the cellar, and this helped shield her and other Jews from capture. The Nazis conducted four major aktions during their occupation of Buczacz before declaring the town Judenrein, or completely free of Jews. But the declaration turned out to be false. My mother, along with dozens of others, managed to survive with the aid of courageous gentile families who risked their safety to shelter them.
In the middle of our travels, Jura pulls out a sheet of typewritten names – people who had served as policemen, gendarmes and SS officers during the war. I recognize some of the names. Some of the Nazi war criminals and their collaborators have been brought to justice, but the vast majority remain undetected and untried for their crimes.
We go to the Jewish cemetery, where many of the town’s Jews – including my mother’s parents – were taken to be executed. The place is untended and overgrown, a jumble of brush and junk, with headstones in various states of disrepair. We find my great-grandmother’s grave. It’s significant, because two plots over my mother buried her first-born child, Isaac, in an unmarked plot. I clear away the branches and debris from the group of headstones in the area to get a better view. I bend down and touch the ground where the brother I never met is buried. Exactly 70 years later, someone has come back to this place to remember.
Jura takes me down a path through brambles to a spot where survivors had erected a memorial to the war’s victims. The place is overgrown with trees and bushes now, but he says there was nothing here before the war. The marker no longer survives, and even if it did, it’s unlikely anyone would be able to find it without an expert guide.
Our next stop is Fedor Hill, another killing ground where thousands perished. It’s difficult to see traces of anything here, but Jura once again guides us to a marker commemorating the killing of 450 people during the early days of slaughter in 1941. It had been erected by a survivor’s family well after the war.
A far more prominent memorial on Fedor Hill is dedicated to the UPA, the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, the military wing of a movement that initially collaborated with the Nazis in hopes of winning an independent homeland. In fact, throughout our travels in Western Ukraine, there were numerous new memorials to Ukrainian nationalist fighters in places where it might have been logical to place markers noting the victims of the Nazi era. We saw this on the side of a synagogue in Ivano-Frankivsk, near the Jewish ghetto entrance in Lvov, and many other places. In my father’s hometown of Kolomyia, it was a similar story — no mention of Jews or Nazi victims in the local museum, no remnants of the huge Jewish population, and a patriotic memorial to Ukrainian nationalist figures on the site of a former synagogue. In the re-written history of today, the UPA and its related Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists are presented as groups that fought both Soviets and Nazis; no mention is made of the collaboration in 1941 that led to so much destruction during the war.
Throughout our trip to Ukraine, we were reminded of the upcoming election campaign and the ever-present imagery of Ukrainian nationalism, especially in the Western part of the country. In a land that was exercising its brand of democratic activity, we had to wonder how thoroughly the country had come to grips with its recent history. Many countries are wrestling with related questions, trying to reconcile horrendous events of the past with a way forward. But as in any process or truth and reconciliation, there needs to be an initial recognition of what took place. Erasing and denying the past is rarely the path to building a healthy future.
At the end of our tour in Buczacz, Jura wanted to know the exact date of my mother’s death. He also was interested in our birthdates and any other information he could glean from us. In a country that chooses to forget so much, he was something of an anomaly.
Features
Brave American hero only US soldier to be included among Yad Vashem’s Righteous Among the Nations
By MYRON LOVE Courage is a rare quality. More than 80 years ago, Roddie Edmonds, a master sergeant in the American army, showed what courage looked like when the then-POW successfully stared down the barrel of a Nazi gun, thereby saving the lives of about 200 of his Jewish fellow POWS.
In 2013, Edmonds became the first American soldier to be inducted into Yad Vashem’s list of Righteous Among the Nations – a designation that recognizes non-Jews who risked their lives during World war II to shelter and save Jewish lives. Earlier this year, he was also awarded the Medal of Honour, America’s highest medal for bravery.
On Wednesday, May 6, Roddie’s son, Chris, was in Winnipeg to tell his father’s story. Speaking at the Truth and Life Worship Centre in St. Vital to an audience of Jewish community members and non-Jewish supporters, the younger Edmonds, a Christian pastor from Tennessee, related how his father – at the age of 14 – in Chris’s words, committed himself to Jesus.
In the brutal winter of 1944, Master Sargent Roddie Edmonds and his 106th infantry division were thrust into action for the first time, in the Ardennes Forest. They were unprepared for what was to come.
Five days after their posting, they were hit hard by an unexpected Nazi onslaught in what became known as the Battle of the Bulge, the last great battle of the war on the Western front. Edmonds’ unit was quickly overrun and he was one of as many as 9,000 GIs who were taken prisoner.
Chris Edmonds described the POWs’ dire situation in detail. They were forced to walk for four days in freezing cold, deep snow, and constant rain. They were then put into the Nazis’ notorious sealed box cars – standing room only – and subsequently divided among several POW camps.
Master Sgt. Edmonds found himself the ranking officer responsible for almost 1,300 POWS – among them about 200 Jewish American GIs. It was Nazi practice to separate the Jewish GIs from the others and ship them to concentration camps.
On January 7, the POWs’ first day in camp, the Nazi commandant ordered Edmonds to tell only the Jewish GIs to turn up for roll call the next morning. The night before, Edmonds spoke to all of his charges and they all agreed on a plan. The next morning, all of the GIs presented themselves – including the weak and the sick – all claiming to be Jewish.
The Nazi commandant – red in the face with anger – put a gun to the 22-year-old Edmond’s head and demanded that he identify the Jewish GIs. He refused. Instead, according to his son, Chris, Roddie calmly pointed out to the commandant that the war would soon be over, the Allies were going to win, and if the commandant were to harm any of the POWs, he might be prosecuted for war crimes after the war.
As Chris noted, the colour drained from the commandant’s face, he put the gun down, and returned to his office.
Liberation for the POWS came on May 5, 1945, with the arrival of a couple of American tank columns.
Chris attributed his father’s bravery to his deep faith and love of God.
“Dad used to say that fear of people makes you scared, but fear of God makes you brave.”
Now, as was the norm, returning soldiers, POWs and Holocaust survivors rarely spoke about their war time experiences – not even to their families. All Chris knew about his father’s war was that he was a POW.
Roddie Edmonds came home, married, had a family, was an outstanding dad – according to his son – and enjoyed a successful career in sales. He died in 1985 at the age of 66.
Chris Edmonds first learned about his father’s heroism in 2008 while reading an interview in the New York Times with Lester Tanner, a prominent New York-based attorney. During the course of the interview, Tanner – whose original name was Tannenbaum – mentioned the American master sergeant who had saved his life.
Chris Edmonds reached out to Tanner, who subsequently invited the Edmonds family to come to New York where the former GI arranged for the family to be lodged at the prestigious Harbor Club and generally gave them the royal treatment. Tanner also described what had happened in that POW camp.
Chris was inspired to learn all he could about his father’s war time experiences. Fortunately, his mother had kept all of his father’s effects. Among his father’s possessions, Chris found a detailed diary of his father’s time as a POW.
As a result of Chris Edmonds’ research, he wrote a book titled “No Surrender; A father, a Son and an extraordinary Act of Heroism That Continues to Live on Today” (with co-author Douglas Century). He also produced a documentary, “Footsteps of My Father,” which includes commentary by Tanner and some of the other Jewish POWs who were spared as a result of Roddie Edmonds’ bravery.
The documentary was part of Chris’s presentation at the Truth and Life Worship Centre.
Chris Edmonds has also founded an organization: “Roddie’s Code,” which is dedicated to “extending the leadership and legacy of his father to future generations.”
Edmonds was brought to Winnipeg by community leader Larry Vickar and Christian Zionist Pastor Rudy Fidel, both of whom heard Edmonds speak in Florida earlier this year. The presentation here was sponsored by B’nai Brith Canada’s Manitoba Jewish-Christian Roundtable.
While in Winnipeg, Edmonds was also able to present his inspiring story to close to 700 students at Gray Academy, St. Paul’s High School, and Vincent Massey Collegiate.
In closing, Chris Edmonds noted that his father’s actions in that POW cap didn’t just save the 200 Jewish POWs who were there, but also their future generations – numbering around 20,000, who would not have been alive today.
“My dad used to say that there are two main purposes in life,” Chris said. “
Features
The Growing Impact of Mobile Gaming on Online Casino Play in Canada
A decade ago, desktop platforms dominated the iGaming market. People mostly used PCs, Macs, and laptops to play table classics like poker, as well as live dealer games. That changed as smartphones became more powerful and mobile internet speeds improved across Canada and across the continents – a market that Apple takes the greatest market share in.
Players are used to casino games loading quickly, streaming smoothly, and working well on smaller devices. Operators have made their websites more responsive, released apps, and designed touch-friendly games designed for mobile players. For many Canadians, smartphones are the main way they access online casinos.
Reports from NetNewsLedger and Inside2U point to mobile gaming as the main reason for growth in Canada’s online casino market. The AI Journal has reported that mobile gaming accounts for 68% of slot gaming in urban areas, and 78% in rural communities.
Mobile-first gaming
The move toward mobile gaming happened because smartphones made casino access more convenient. Players can log in away from home, at home, or while travelling without needing a desktop setup. Faster 5G coverage improved streaming quality and reduced loading times.
Modern platforms allow gamers to play casino table games on mobile with live streams, touch-optimized interfaces, and real-time gameplay available on smartphones and tablets.
Many operators redesigned their platforms around mobile use instead of adapting desktop layouts for smaller screens. Cross-platform syncing is common, allowing players to move between desktop and mobile without losing progress or account access.
Live dealer games
Early live casino platforms worked best on desktop because mobile connections struggled with video streaming. That changed as streaming technology improved and newer smartphones had more processing power.
Live dealer games support HD video and stable streams across most modern devices. Players can access blackjack, roulette, baccarat, or a poker table either from browsers or apps.
Evolution and Pragmatic Play were among the providers to optimize their live casino products for portrait and landscape mobile viewing. Features like one-tap betting, live chat, and adjustable stream quality made mobile sessions easier to manage on smartphones.
Apps and browser games
Gaming apps sometimes offer faster login options, push notifications, and biometric security features (e.g. Face ID, fingerprint authentication). Apps also help operators improve performance consistency across different devices.
Meanwhile browser-based gaming is now more reliable because of HTML5 technology and responsive web design. Reputable casinos usually provide full mobile access directly through Safari or Chrome without requiring a player to download their app.
The flexibility helped casinos reach more users across iOS and Android devices. According to coverage from TorontoMike, HTML5 development played a part in making modern casino games reaching wider audiences.
Feature-driven games
Feature-driven games became popular on mobile partly because they fit short, pick-up-and-play sessions. Quick bonus rounds, tap controls, and fast loading times work well for players using phones.
Developers, as in other gaming genres, have improved optimization to reduce battery usage and data consumption. Adaptive streaming and compressed graphics help games run smoothly even on comparatively slow connections.
Canadian casino platforms will keep refining app performance, live streaming quality, and cross-device compatibility. The focus is fast access, stable gameplay, and interfaces built specifically for smartphones and tablets. Players should remember to use licensed platforms and make use of available responsible gambling tools and account controls.
Features
Colleges With the Largest Jewish Student Communities
Choosing a college is hard enough without factoring in whether you’ll be the only Jewish person at the Shabbat table. For students who want Jewish life to be a real part of their college experience – not a weekly drive to the nearest city – campus community matters as much as academic reputation.
The good news: several major universities have Jewish student populations large enough that Jewish holidays are actually acknowledged, kosher dining isn’t a special request, and you’ll find everything from traditional minyanim to social justice groups to Jewish Greek life. What follows is a breakdown of the schools that consistently rank highest, based on Hillel International’s annual data and campus reporting.
What to Look For Beyond the Numbers
Raw population numbers don’t tell the whole story. Some students want a large Jewish population to maximize the number of organizations, fraternities and sororities, and participation at Jewish events. Others want schools with easy kosher dining options and a range of religious options for services. Still others want easy access to a large Jewish community off campus.
Top schools also come with serious academic demands. Jewish students who want to stay active in community life while keeping up with coursework often treat writing as something to outsource strategically. Students who decide to hire essay writer online guidance for specific writing tasks often find that the quality of that support keeps them on track without sacrificing everything else. Some things are worth delegating so you can actually show up for Shabbat or make it to the Hillel event on a Tuesday.
The questions worth asking before committing to any campus:
- Does the Hillel have a dedicated building, or does it operate out of shared space?
- Is kosher dining available in the main dining hall, or is it a separate facility that separates you from non-Jewish friends?
- Does the school adjust exam schedules around major Jewish holidays?
- Is there a Chabad house nearby for students who want a more observant environment?
- What’s the campus climate like regarding antisemitism, and how does the administration respond?
The Top Schools by Jewish Population
University of Florida
UF has 6,500 Jewish students – bigger than some entire colleges. The Jewish community is so established that they have multiple Jewish fraternities and sororities, plus Hillel programming that goes well beyond awkward mixers. The Hillel at UF is nationally recognized, with kosher dining and daily minyanim. Gainesville’s Jewish community includes Orthodox synagogues within reach, and UF’s administration’s efforts to combat antisemitism, as noted in 2024 Hillel reports, ensure a welcoming environment.
Rutgers University
With 6,400 Jewish students, Rutgers gives you every type of Jewish person – from very religious to “only goes to synagogue on Yom Kippur.” Being in New Jersey means NYC is accessible for internships, Shabbat with family, or just a real bagel. Rutgers Hillel is one of the most active in the country and the campus has a long history of Jewish student life.
University of Maryland
One of the most significant Hillel building projects underway anywhere in the country. The new Ben and Esther Rosenbloom Hillel Center For Jewish Life at University of Maryland will be a 40,000-square-foot building in College Park, including a kosher dining area, café, rental catering spaces, and classrooms. Maryland’s Jewish population is large, geographically convenient to Washington D.C., and has been growing.
New York University
NYU sits in the middle of one of the largest Jewish communities in the world, which changes what campus Jewish life looks like entirely. The off-campus options – synagogues, kosher restaurants, Jewish cultural institutions – are unmatched anywhere else on this list. NYU Hillel is active, and students who want a more immersive Jewish urban experience rather than a contained campus bubble tend to thrive here.
Brandeis University
A different category from the others. Brandeis was founded as a Jewish-sponsored institution and still reflects that in its campus culture. Brandeis Hillel recently announced a $20 million project to renovate a former administrative building into a new 28,000-square-foot center for Jewish life on campus. Jewish studies programs are among the strongest in the country, and the campus calendar is built around Jewish holidays as a matter of course.
Cornell University
Cornell has the largest Jewish student population in the Ivy League and is finally getting the college hilel building to match. Construction began in spring 2026 on the Steven K. and Winifred A. Grinspoon Hillel Center for Jewish Community at Cornell – a 24,000-square-foot facility expected to serve over 3,000 Cornellians each year, featuring a kosher café, event hall for Shabbat dinners, a communal kosher kitchen, and a Beit Midrash. Until it opens, the community operates out of Anabel Taylor Hall, where space has been consistently stretched.
Princeton University
Smaller numbers than the large state schools, but the infrastructure is serious. Princeton’s Mandelbaum Family Dining Pavilion opened in March 2025, providing twenty kosher meals a week supervised by the Orthodox Union. Anyone on a Princeton meal plan can eat there – and students of all backgrounds eat there because the food is genuinely good.
Campus Comparison
| School | Approx. Jewish enrollment | Kosher dining | Hillel building | Chabad presence |
| University of Florida | ~6,500 | Yes | Yes | Yes |
| Rutgers University | ~6,400 | Yes | Yes | Yes |
| Cornell University | Largest in Ivy League | Yes (new facility 2027) | Under construction | Yes |
| University of Maryland | Large | New facility opening | Under construction | Yes |
| NYU | Large | Yes + off-campus | Yes | Yes |
| Brandeis | Majority Jewish | Yes | Renovation underway | Yes |
| Princeton | ~13% | Yes (OU-certified) | Yes | Yes |
What Actually Makes a Jewish Campus Community Strong
Numbers matter, but they’re not everything. When you get above around 25% Jewish, the whole campus culture shifts. Jewish holidays become things that professors acknowledge. Kosher food isn’t some weird special request. Everyone understands why you disappear for three days during Rosh Hashanah.
Beyond that threshold, what separates good Jewish campus communities from great ones is programming depth and physical space. A Hillel with a real building, a kosher kitchen, and regular Shabbat dinners creates the conditions for genuine community. A Hillel sharing a conference room and running events sporadically does not.
The schools on this list all offer something real. What varies is the scale, the feel, and whether you want a sprawling state school where Jewish life is one of many communities, or a smaller institution where it’s closer to the center of things.