Features
Sandra Caplan’s Jewish Journey
Recently we received an email from Sandra Caplan from her Florida wintertime home. Sandra told us that she had given a talk to her synagogue sisterhood about her life and wondered whether we might be interested in reprinting it.
Sandra’s life followed a path that would be familiar to many Winnipeg Jews (both present and former). So we thought it would be interesting to reprint the story of Sandra’s life here:
The following document, titled My Jewish Journey, was presented to the Sisterhood of Congregation B’nai Israel on March 10th, 2024. I hosted a brunch at my condo in St. Petersburg and spoke of “My Jewish Journey,” the current Rosh Chodesh topic. I am sending a copy of this to my family so that they will have a better understanding of my life. I wrote this in two sessions without an outline. The words flowed from my heart to my brain, my fingers and then to the written page. Please don’t fact find!!
I had two photos that I always bring with me. One is of Barry and me, the other of my family on my eightieth birthday. I also had an atlas so I could show the Floridians where Winnipeg is located. Now on to my story.
The following document, titled My Jewish Journey, was presented to the Sisterhood of Congregation B’nai Israel on May 10th, 2024. I hosted a brunch at my condo in St. Petersburg and spoke of My Jewish Journey, the current Rosh Chodesh topic. I am sending a copy of this to my family so that they will have a better understanding of my life. I wrote this in two sessions without an outline. The words flowed from my heart to my brain, my fingers and then to the written page. Please don’t fact find!! I had two photos that I always bring with me. One is of Barry and me, the other of my family on my eightieth birthday. I also had an atlas so I could show the Floridians where Winnipeg is located. Now on to my story.
MY JEWISH JOURNEY
I am a Snowbird and live in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Before I speak of My Jewish Journey, I would like to give you a few facts about Winnipeg. It is in the center of Canada and is 2200 miles northwest of St. Petersburg and 500 northwest of Minneapolis. It is a prairie province, and the terrain is flat. The winters are so cold that we often plug our cars into an electric outlet, so that the engine doesn’t freeze. A mild day in the winter would be considered 0 F and a cold day 20 degrees below that. The population in Winnipeg is approximately 750,000 people.
Winnipeg has a Jewish population of about 8,000 people. However, in the 1930’s it was about 20,000. Many young people now leave for what they consider cities with more advantages, such as Toronto, Vancouver and many US cities. Also, families are now smaller. My Mother came from a family of seven and my father from a family of five. Winnipeg has been actively involved in promoting Winnipeg to the Argentinian Jewish community and now has a large group in our community. We also have a large French Canadian, Aboriginal and Filipina presence.
Growing up I always considered that Winnipeg had two areas that the Jewish people lived in-the north end and the south end. I was born in 1939 and lived in the north end. My first recollection is living in a duplex owned by my paternal grandparents who were born in Europe. I was told that the railway line at one point in time ended in Winnipeg and that is why so many Jewish immigrants settled there. Another reason was that there was a homestead plan offered in Manitoba through which new immigrants would be given a plot of land for free if they developed the land. As it turned out the winters were harsh, and the land was inhospitable. The Jewish immigrants were not necessarily experienced in farming and once settled gave up the concept. They turned to commerce and a large percentage of Manitoba’s small towns had Jewish owned general and other stores.
My father was born in Pinsk, Poland. In Winnipeg he became a furrier after high school. My mother was born in Winnipeg and opened a dress shop, Sandra’s, after I was born.
As a young child living on Flora Ave. In the early 1940’s, every house on our street was occupied by Jewish residents. At that time there were about eleven small Orthodox synagogues in the north end. I remember sitting in the balcony at the synagogue with my mother. It was a block from our home. My mother’s parents lived about 10 minutes from our home on Selkirk Ave. My grandmother was a milliner, and her shop was at the front of her home. When my paternal grandparents passed away, the house was sold, and we moved to the south end of the city. I was 5 and after that point can recall much of my Jewish Journey.
In 1945 the south end was considered an upscale area. By this time my father had a men and ladies clothing shop in the Time Bldg. on Portage Ave. My mother still had her shop, Sandra’s. Our family grew with the addition of my brother Frederick (Fred).
Our home on Oxford Street had several Jewish families. The school that I attended for grade one had very few Jewish kids. It was at the time that my parents decided it was time for my Jewish education to begin. There was not a synagogue in the area, but there was talk of the Shaarey Zedek, which we belonged to moving to the south end. So, as I entered grade two, my Jewish education began, and I attended after school Hebrew classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. The other 2 days were for the students in grades four to six. The classes were held in the basement of a home in the area.
My recollections of those days are quite clear. The kosher butcher delivered twice a week. Since my parents both worked, we had a housekeeper who was an excellent cook. On Friday nights we often had company for dinner. I was Jewish, went to Hebrew school had a strong sense of my religion, but attended the synagogue only on the High Holidays and celebrated other important holidays such as Pesach and of course, Chanukah.
In 1949 my sister Marcia was born. In 1950 my father won the Irish Sweepstake. It was a grand sum of $39,500.00. I tried to translate it to today’s dollar. My thinking was that our home at that time cost $12,500.00. We could have bought 3 homes. That large home today of 4 bedrooms, a den and a finished basement could be worth $800,000. So, I estimate it was like winning $2, 400.000.00 today. With this fortune my father bought property on Portage Ave and built Fredric’s, a large store that sold ladies and men’s wear, sportswear, lingerie, had tuxedo rentals and had a bridal shop on the mezzanine floor.
It was about this time that the synagogue in the south end of town opened. It was a beautiful building on the river. I was able to attend Hebrew school here. It was a gathering place for Jewish children. I was a brownie and a girl scout, and both these activities were at the synagogue.
At that time the synagogue was the center of my Jewish and social life. In 1952 I had a Bat Mitzvah. This was a new ceremony at the conservative Shaarey Zedek synagogue. It was held on a Friday night. The Bat Mitzvah celebrant wore a loose, blue satin mid length long sleeved gown. It had a round collar and a white bow at the collar. I recall standing in front of the ark and reciting a prayer that started—O God and God of my Fathers. With grateful heart I stand before thee—. I also recited a haftorah which began-Vah yishlach Shlomo el Hiram laimor. Atah yadatah—. Obviously, I rehearsed this many times so that sixty-one years later I can still remember a small portion. After the service there was a reception in the social hall. We had party sandwiches, a Winnipeg specialty and favorite to this day, dainties as referred to by non Winnipeggers as squares and cookies and luscious cakes and cookies. Winnipeg Bar and Bat Mitzvah tables are well known in Canadian Jewish circles as are our baking is renowned. I can even remember several gifts that I received. A glass duck with a filling of bubble bath and a small wooden chest filled with note paper and envelopes. I still have that chest today. It was a glorious and happy celebration and did not end my Hebrew studies.
I continued going to Hebrew school until I was confirmed at the age of fifteen. For that ceremony I received a white leatherbound prayer book for the High Holidays which I still have today. When I was a teenager, I sang in the synagogue choir on Shabbat and the High Holidays. Our synagogue had a choir loft which was curtained and on the second floor behind the ark. We had about 20 members led by a choir master.
In Winnipeg in 1956 you could enter University after grade eleven, which I chose to do. So, I was sixteen when I enrolled at the University of Manitoba. Everyone with a few exceptions stayed at home to go to university. In those days we had one Jewish sorority, Iota Alpha Pi which I joined and became the president of in my second year of university. We also had 3 Jewish fraternities known as the Sammies, Zebes and Apes. I took Commerce but did not get my BCom because at the end of my third year I got my MRS.
So, this takes me to dating years in Winnipeg. My friends and I would never think of going out with anyone but a Jewish boy. We all married Jewish boys and married very young. I was nineteen when I married Barry who was a doctor and twenty-six years old. We had a large wedding at the Shaarey Zedek the synagogue that my family attended. Looking back, I feel that I was very young, unworldly leaving my parents to go to Los Angels where Barry would be a resident. I was a young girl in a new and different world! It was a challenge. Our Jewish life as we knew it was at a standstill. I had one Aunt and a few cousins that we could visit and we knew one couple from Winnipeg. There was no time to celebrate holidays and no one to really celebrate with.
California, however, was a nice place to live. We had no Winnipeg winters to deal with but also had no family to be with. Four years passed quickly, especially since we had two children. A daughter Susan who was born in 1962 and a son Bruce born in 1963. I also was fortunate to work at AT&T for 3 years.
Although as I previously said we felt like we had lost some of our Jewishness, a Bris was a ceremony that was very important to us. It was up to Barry to make the arrangements. He spoke to some of the Jewish attending doctors at the hospital. He got the name of a mohel and told my mother, who had come to help me, that the mohel had a request. The baby was to wear a cap and gown. I had no knowledge of Brises and my mother thought this was a little odd. However, we were in the United States. Traditions could be different. When Bruce was 4 days old a cousin came to babysit while my mother and I went shopping for a cap and gown. We found Christening gowns and other outfits for babies. Nothing was suitable for a Bris. I heard of a store in Long Beach that perhaps could help us in our search. I had never been to Long Beach but with directions managed to find the store. We found what we thought was a perfect outfit. It was a white cotton Carters gown that was tied at the bottom with a matching bonnet that was tied under the baby’s neck. The day of the Bris arrived and we met the Mohel. His first question to Barry was “did you bring my cap and gown from the hospital”. As an excited father Barry was so happy to find a Mohel he heard only the cap and gown and assumed it was for the baby. Fortunately, we lived a few minutes from the hospital and Barry was able to ge the cap and gown for the Mohel. Later the Mohel remarked that he thought the baby’s outfit was a little strange. Our first, but certainly not our last adventure with our son.
In 1963 we returned to Winipeg and a whole new Jewish Journey for me was established. Barry had a very large, observant family on his maternal and paternal side. So, I became immersed in all the Jewish culture of his family. My side of the family was small, and we were not as close as the Caplan/Stall family. I was twenty-three. A mother of two, naive, inexperienced and the product of a sheltered life. How did I survive? I guess that necessity was a factor. We adapted to life in the city, made friends, and carried on. The Caplan family belonged to the synagogue in the north end of town. My family belonged to the synagogue in the south end. Until our daughter Susan was twelve, we went to Rosh Pina with the Caplans. One incident that I clearly remember took place on the High Holidays in about 1969. We never joined the synagogue as Barry’s parents looked after our High Holiday tickets and with Barry’s work schedule as a Urologist who was on call every third weekend and every third of fourth night, he was not able to commit to going to shule. To get back to the holiday service the Rabbi spoke about membership in the synagogue and its importance in Jewish life. I felt he was looking directly at me as he made this appeal. On the way home I said to Barry that we must join the synagogue. It is a priority in our lives. As Susan’s Bat Mitzvah approached, I had a problem. Our children attended Ramah day school but lessons for your Bar /Bat Mitzvah and the ceremony, took place at the synagogue that you belonged to. In my mind I had no choice. To drive twice a week to the north end when it could be very cold, icy streets and a huge distance of a half hour was beyond my scope of reality. So, we joined the south end Shaarey Zedek Synagogue. Our son Bruce had his Bar Mitzvah in 1976 at the Shaarey Zedek and our son David who was born in 1971 completed this cycle.
While raising my family I was involved in Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women. I became president of the chapters that I belonged to and was actively involved in both. I also volunteered at the Shaarey Zedek in a lunch program for seniors. Being in shule, whether as a volunteer or at a service or program was always an important part of my life. When my husband Barry retired in December 1999 we started coming to St. Petersburg for the winter. One of our first projects was to find a conservative synagogue. How fortunate we were to discover CBI.When we got home that spring, we started going to service every Saturday and this continued until Barry’s passing. I continued to attend until Covid and the two-year remodeling of our synagogue began. Our renovations are almost complete, and my family and I will be able to return to our beloved Shaarey Zedek for the holidays this year and I will return to my weekly Saturdays at shule.
Jewish holidays are a special time in our family. Last Rosh Hashanah my daughter Susan and I continued the family tradition of a luncheon on the first day of the holiday. This was held at her home. How wonderful that first to fourth cousins, machatunim and those close to the family gather to enjoy this holiday. I have been in touch with a cousin in Winnipeg to check on the first Seder for this year. My children are coming to Winnipeg from Vancouver, and we look forward to enjoying the Seder with the extended family again. This year we will probably have thirty attending but often there are many more.
When I speak of the synagogue and the importance of it in our family life, I cannot help but think of the day of Barry’s passing. I came into his hospital room and his first word was shule. I immediately called the synagogue, spoke to Rabbi Green and within a half hour he was at Barry’s bedside, singing and reciting prayers. How fortunate we are to have a religion and a life that makes us feel involved, loved and able to pass away in what we would consider a dignified and peaceful manner. As I write these words tears stream down my face and I realize how fortunate I am to have been born Jewish.
I truly feel that I could end my Jewish Journey here, but life goes on after the loss of loved ones. For six and a half years I have been a widow. My friends hate that word, but I can’t say that I am alone. That is not true. I have a wonderful family, friends and a full life. I come to Florida for the winter, I can travel with my daughter, I visit my children and grandchildren in Vancouver, I enjoy the cultural life in my two favorite cities and much more.
I feel that life has been good to me. I have three children, six grandchildren, many friends, good health and the ability to enjoy life. I have truly been blessed.
BACK ROW L – R: Sheri Winters, Bruce Caplan, Sandra Caplan, Susan Billinkoff, David Caplan, Cindy Switzer
Front Row L – R: Asher Billinkoff, Maia Caplan, Annie Caplan, Layla Switzer-Caplan, Max Switzer Caplan, Jordan Billinkoff
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.