Features
Young community leader calls for others to step up in countering antisemitism, Israel haters

By MYRON LOVE With incidents of Anti-Semitism growing worldwide, Candice Tenenbein is exhorting fellow Jewish Winnipeggers – and non-Jewish supporters – to step up their efforts to combat this unhinged scourge of Jew and Israel hatred.
“Antisemitism is the most virulent and oldest form of hate, and today often appears as anti-Zionism,” she says.
“Speak out. Share accurate information on social media. Have discussions with friends. Write letters to the editors. Phone or email your elected officials and ask to know where they stand. It just takes a few minutes but, if enough of us take action, we could have a significant impact.”
The other side of the coin, she notes, is to promote all the good that Israel does for people around the world from sending emergency response teams to help after natural disasters to providing world-leading technology to help people in developing countries to improve agricultural output, better care for their environments, have access to clean drinking water and improve healthcare.
“As a local Jewish community,” she adds, “we also need to explain how diverse our members are – we come from many countries (from Latin America, to Europe, to Israel, to Turkey, Iraq, Morocco and beyond) and we have members who are LGBTQ+ and BIPOC. Many of our community members are doing good in our own backyard. Newcomers, and Jews born and raised in Winnipeg, have contributed to the fabric of our society for a long time. We need to showcase these efforts for all Winnipegers to see that we are not the evil tropes that we are portrayed to be on social media.”
In her call for action, Tenenbein is leading by example. The 2017 recipient of the Harry Silverberg Young Leader of Distinction Award has played a prominent role within our Jewish community pretty much since she moved back here in 2003 after a short time living in Toronto.
Tenenbein credits her mother, the late Cheryl Arnold, for infusing her with a strong sense of Jewishness, community and Zionism. “Despite being a working single parent with three children, my mother was a member of Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women, helped out at Ramah (where Tenenbein and her siblings went to elementary school) and was active at the Herzlia Synagogue.
Tenenbein herself was a member of BBYO in high school (Grant Park) and Hillel at university. “I used to study at the Hillel office and attended all of the Jewish programs that I could,” she recalls. While in university Tenenbein served as a student member of the University Senate. She then volunteered and worked for a Member of Parliament in both Winnipeg and on Parliament Hill in Ottawa.
After graduating from law school (at the University of Manitoba), she moved to Toronto to article at Davies, Ward, Phillips & Vineberg LLP. “I wanted to prove to myself that I could hold my own with University of Toronto graduates,” she says. “Despite it having the nickname ‘Slavies’, I loved the law firm I was working at. But I also wanted to get involved in the Toronto Jewish community and found that the community was not very welcoming. And I missed my family. So I made the decision to move home.
“Winnipeg is a wonderful place and people are a lot friendlier.”
Upon her return, Tenenbein wanted to focus her volunteer efforts in a manner that combined her interests of advocacy, politics and Judaism. She reached out to David Kroft in 2004. Upon his suggestion, she immediately became involved with the Jewish Federation of Winnipeg as a member of the JFW’s Public Affairs and Advocacy Committee (PAAC) and hasn’t looked back.
Professionally, she notes that she practiced law here at Tapper Cuddy LLP for less than two years. “Again, I loved my firm but I really did not like the business side of practicing law. I had also met my husband, Marshall, and he was in medical school. Between his studies and my schedule as a lawyer, we found it hard to make the time to build a relationship.”
When the opportunity to work at the University of Manitoba arose, she happily accepted the position as its government relations associate. After her first child, Jacob, was born, she chose to leave the workforce to become a full-time mom. But Tenenbein continued with her volunteer efforts. In fact, in addition to PAAC, she served a term as a member of the Federation’s Board of Directors in December 2011 shortly after her second son, Ethan, was born. In December 2018, she became co-chair of PAAC and a Federation executive committee member.
“When I was first asked to chair the committee (PAAC), I had a number of family commitments that prevented me from taking on the position,” she says. A year later when asked again, she agreed to come on, but initially in a co-chair fashion. “Laurelle Harris agreed to remain as co-chair with me. She was amazing.”
After a year, Harris stepped down, leaving Tenenbein in charge.
So what is PAAC’s mandate? “We reach out to media and elected officials at all levels of Canadian government regarding domestic and foreign-policy issues affecting Israel and the local Jewish community,” Tenenbein responds. “We are active Israeli advocates and fight antisemitism. We work to encourage people to become lay advocates in speaking for Israel and against antisemitism.
“We also provide community relations and outreach, working to build bridges with other ethnic minority and religious communities,” she adds, citing, for example, the Christian Zionist Bridges for Peace and the Indigenous communities.
In addition to her work with the PAAC, Tenenbein also served for three years as chair of PJ Library Winnipeg and recently ended a seven-year term as a member of the Women’s Endowment Committee at the Jewish Foundation of Manitoba. She is currently a member of the Board of the Jewish National Fund of Canada, Manitoba and Saskatchewan division and is the Chair of the Winnipeg Chavurah Chapter of the Canadian Jewish Political Affairs Committee.
And she and Marshall are determined to inculcate in their sons the same strong sense of connection to the Jewish people that they feel. Jacob and Ethan are going into Grades 7 and 5 respectively at Gray Academy in September. This summer the boys are attending Rady Camp at the Rady JCC and Jacob is currently at BB Camp in Kenora.
“It is important to us that our sons are proud to be Jewish and feel connected to our community. We love that Gray Academy provides our children with a religious education while also teaching them to become strong advocates through its Israel education and debating programs. Unfortunately in today’s world, these skills will be important and necessary assets when our boys reach university where antisemitic culture is prevalent.” Tenenbein says.
As to visiting Israel, although she was one of the participants on the first Birthright trip to Israel in 2000, she regretfully has not yet been able to return.
“Going on Birthright was life-changing,” she says. “I would not have gotten on my return flight had it not been for my family here.”
She says that she is hoping one day to organize and go on a community-run Federation or JNF family mission. “We could go on our own,” she comments, “but we believe that a JNF or Federation tour would be more meaningful.
“Once it’s built, I would really like to see the Beit KKL-JNF Canada House (which is being partially funded by monies raised at the most recent JNF Gala honouring Dr. Ted Lyons).
“Canada House,” she explains, “will serve as an after-school education, empowerment, and enrichment centre for high school students from Sderot and its surroundings. The students will be provided with the necessary tools and skills for scholastic and personal success in an engaging learning hub and an inviting, yet fortified, “second home” atmosphere. It is a phenomenal project that might work in Winnipeg for at-risk youth, too.”
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.