Features
Rochelle Zimberg has worn many different hats during rich and varied career

By MYRON LOVE Over the course of nearly 60 years, lifelong Winnipegger Rochelle Zimberg has played a wide variety of different roles. She has been by turn educator and administrator, consultant, marriage counselor, community volunteer, and political candidate. Her careers have taken her across Canada and around the world and she has accumulated a plethora of good friends seemingly everywhere.
Most recently, one of her friend connections led to her house sitting in New York for five weeks in April and May for Alex Skolnick, lead guitar player for the seminal heavy metal band, “Testament,” while the band was on tour. She describes the apartment as measuring about 500 square feet – about the size of her living room and diningroom – filled with musical instruments and home to three cats.
“I loved being in New York again,” says Zimberg. “I took in as many Broadway productions as I could.”
(She herself has been a long time Manitoba Theatre centre volunteer and, in 1991, co-produced – with Gail Asper – a Fringe show in which she also performed.)
As with many readers of this paper, Rochelle Zimberg’s life journey began in the old North End. The daughter of the late Joe and Rose Zimberg lived north until she was 13. She attended River Heights Junior High, Grant Park High School, and United College (now the University of Winnipeg), after where she earned her teaching certificate at the old teacher’s college.
As a teen, she was heavily involved in USY (United Synagogue Youth), where she first showed leadership potential serving as Vice President of her chapter..
In her biography for the Jewish Foundation of Manitoba’s Endowment Book of Life, Zimberg recalls one memorable experience as a USY member, involving a train trip to Kansas City to celebrate the organization’s 13th anniversary and hearing Cantor Herschel Fox do the Haftorah.
After university, the young Winnipegger followed the path of many of her generation – a backpack adventure through Europe, followed by six months on a kibbutz. In 1969, shortly after relocating to Vancouver, she recalls, she received a scholarship to study in Israel at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem.
This time though, her time in Israel was cut short by her father’s unexpected passing.
After a few months back home, Zimberg saw a job opening for teachers in Australia. Thus began a four-year teaching career in both Sydney and Melbourne, where she taught at the modern Orthodox Mount Scopus College, which had an enrollment of over 2,000 students.
In Sydney, she taught at Ryder University and a school in the western suburbs,
While in Australia, she also took courses at the University of Sydney towards a masters degree in political science and foreign policy theory.
I loved Australia,” Zimberg says. “I became an Australian citizen. I am still in contact with colleagues and former students and have been back several times, most recently for a wedding.”
Upon returning to Winnipeg in the mid-1970s, Zimberg embarked on a new career in administration and management at the University of Manitoba, where she also completed her M.A. in Political Science. At the university she served as Associate Director of Residences and Conference Coordinator. When she applied to become Director of Residences at the university, she recalls, she was told – by a university vice-president – in no uncertain terms, that only a man would be considered for the position.
While working on her M.A. at the U of M, Zimberg shared an office with Al Ducharme, a former Winnipeg city councilor who was later president of the Manitoba Association of Urban Municipalities (MAUM). In 1980 MAUM was looking for a new executive director. Ducharme encouraged his former office mate to apply. Zimberg demurred.
“A few months later, MAUM was once again seeking an executive director and Al (Ducharme) again encouraged me to apply. This time I didn’t hesitate.”
MAUM (now the Association of Manitoba Municpalities) is comprised of the mayors, reeves and councillors representing the province’s 137 municipalities and works toward strengthening municipal government. Zimberg served as the organization’s executive director for 18 years.
“It was a great job,” she says. “It allowed me to travel throughout Manitoba and Canada.”.
One of the highlights of her time with MAUM was her development of the Manitoba Investment Pool Authority, an investment pool for public institutions and municipalities. During her tenure, she was also elected president of the Canadian Society of Association Executives (CSAE) in 1994.
She left MAUM in 1999 when the decision was made to move the office to Portage la Prairie.
“In 1999,” she notes, “in recognition of my outstanding contributions to municipal government, I became the first female executive director admitted into the Federation of Canadian Municipalities Roll of Honour.”
Since she left MAUM in 1999, she has rarely been short of work to do. She served for a brief time as executive director of the Rosh Pina Synagogue. She was principal of a school in China for three years and spent some time as a teacher/administrator in a school in Egypt. She worked for a spell as a consultant for a transmission project for Edmonton. For a time, she tried her hand at being a direct market distributor.
Zimberg was also twice a candidate for political office. “In 1999, I ran in Tuxedo against Gary Filmon,” the lifelong Liberal supporter recalls. “The Liberal party needed someone to represent the brand. I volunteered. But I didn’t get my name on the ballet until three weeks before the election.”
While she finished third – she fell just 1400 votes short of Filmon In the next election in 2003, she ran again in Tuxedo, finishing second to current Premier Heather Stefanson.
In addition to her varied working career, Zimberg has also given much of her time over the years as a volunteer. She notes that she has contributed her time to such organizations in the Jewish community as the Women’s Endowment Fund at the Jewish Foundation and the Shaarey Zedek.
In the broader community she has volunteered with the Manitoba Theatre Centre, Folklorama, the CNIB, Cancer Care Manitoba, Chemo Savvy Dragon Boat Team and the Guardian Angel Breast Cancer Benefit Ball. Zimberg has also in the past acted as a volunteer consultant for Canadian Executive Services Overseas (CESO) – which pairs retired seniors with communities in developing countries that require CESO volunteers’ expertise. She has also volunteered for the Canadian Bureau of International Education Ukrainian projects.
In addition, Zimbrg has recently served on the board of directors of Manitobans for Human Rights.
For the pilates and sports enthusiast, there is never a dull moment and she continues to look forward to the next travel opportunity or adventure.
Features
I Speak “Jew”

By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence

By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco

By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.