Bernie Farber

Making Sure Holocaust Survivors' Stories Get Told

2013-05-27T15:51:57-04:00

Memory is a powerful seducer. As I turned onto University Drive one recent evening, the entrance to my old alma mater Carleton University, where I was attending a dinner honouring memory and Holocaust survivors, recollections came flooding back.

As a son of a Holocaust survivor, I have always felt an awkward responsibility to be the bearer of my father's memory. Awkward because I understood how difficult it was to put his tragedy into words.

While he was alive, I agonized with him as he tried to impart to me the inhuman brutalities he faced: the murder of his family, the hiding in the forests, the stench of death constantly surrounding him, the fear of being discovered.

Max Farber immediately following WW2 as he emerged from the forests after fighting the Nazis with Russian Partisans

This was balanced with his redemption after the war. While cruelty and degradation haunted him he found the strength to move forward. He did so by putting the past painful memories into a box buried deep within his unconscious and steeled himself to live his life. This he believed was the only way to face the future.

And yet he knew there would come a time when he would have to reach back into the recesses of his mind and unpack his sadness. It took him many years to do so. I was 22 years old when my mother, herself having come to Canada from Ukraine as a child just barely escaping Hitler's madness, who was facing her own mortality -- a terminal breast cancer diagnosis -- insisted that my father tell his children that which he could not until now divulge.

I learned about his two children, my half brothers Yitzchak, eight years old and Sholom aged 12, his first wife Zisele, his six brothers and sisters, friends and family all vanquished in the gas chambers of Treblinka, victims of Hitler's madness.

Author's half brothers Sholom and Yitzchak circa 1935

And over the many subsequent years he filled in the gaps of his own survival culminating with his immigration to Canada and how he met my mother who taught him how to smile again.

Max Farber circa 1948 when he came to Canada

Bernie Farber with his parents Max and Gert Farber circa 1952

And as he poured out his heart over the years we both came to understand the danger of silence. As another Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel once intoned, "the memory of evil will serve as a shield against evil."

These were my personal memories on this crisp April evening as I was walking towards the Carleton University River Building to attend a dinner honouring the Azrieli Foundation. This Foundation sponsors the Holocaust Survivor Memoirs Program and the dinner this evening was part of a two-day conference entitled "If Not Now When? Responsibility and Memory after the Holocaust."

Established in 2005 by its brilliant and driven CEO, Dr. Naomi Azrieli, its goal is to collect, publish and distribute memoirs of survivors of the 20th century Nazi genocide of Jews who eventually made their way to the freedom of Canada.

Published in both official languages, professionally edited and fact-checked, the memoirs have given life to memory. Explains Azrieli:

"Millions of individual stories of the Holocaust have been lost to us forever. By preserving the stories written by survivors and making them widely available, the Azrieli Series of Holocaust Survivors memoirs not only sustains the memory of all those who perished at the hands of hatred, abetted by indifference and apathy, but carries forward the important lessons they have to teach us about tolerance and the acceptance of diversity."

To date 24 memoirs have been published, 18 in English and 13 in French.

I regret to this day that I did not have the forethought to work with my father in the dusk of his years to commit his entire story to paper. I have spoken to many survivors who have told me that the harsh difficulty of telling their stories is in the end cleansed by the knowledge of providing for future generations a map to understanding evil, to working toward "Never Again." Had there only been such a project a generation earlier, my father's story could have been told in full.

In a short unthinkable time the survivors among us will be gone. The work of the Azrieli Foundation ensures that survivors have a vehicle to tell their stories to leave their legacy. When they are gone that is all that will remain, so indeed if not now, when?

Why We Must Rescue the Canadian Jewish News

2013-05-01T14:34:31-04:00

The great Samuel Johnson poet and writer once opined that "the two offices of memory are collection and distribution." Indeed then newspapers are for many the official vehicle that both collect memory and distribute it such that we are all better informed.

This week much has been said and written about the possible demise of a veritable institution in this country, the Canadian Jewish News (CJN). There was hardly a gathering of Jews anywhere I traveled this week both in and out of Toronto where the topic did not turn to this distressing news.

And the questions, though obvious, nonetheless beg for answers. What happened? How did the Board of the CJN allow this to happen? What can we do?

Before answering the last question let's examine the first two.

In the Canadian Jewish community we seem all too often to take for granted that which has been around for a long time. The organization that I was formally headed, Canadian Jewish Congress (CJC), was around from 1919. It spoke on all matters of social justice, human rights and antisemitism. In many ways it seemed to be more respected outside the Jewish community than within. Nevertheless it was also understood to be our conscience and soul. It was very much the voice of Canadian Jewry. Yet two years ago in a dramatic re-shaping of Canadian Jewry organizational life the CJC was dismantled, gone it seems as T.S. Eliot might say, "not with a bang but a whimper".

Yet even today at functions and cocktail parties or other gatherings I am asked as to the goings on at CJC. When I explain that the CJC is no longer I get blank stares and questions of incredulity; what happened? How can this be?

And here we are today facing the potential shattering loss to Canadian Jewry of the CJN. However this time there seems to be a different feeling in the air. There is a clear recognition that with the potential loss of the CJN we lose a large piece of who we are as a community of Jews. There will be no communication vehicle left in the country that for all intents and purposes is independent, practices professional journalism and unites the Jewish community from coast to coast.

This will have an impact not just on the average community member but on Jewish communal organizations as well. Be it ORT, Hadassah, JNF and the myriad of acronymic Jewish groups that counted on the CJN to get its information or dispense its own view of the world, that car, if plans to dismantle the paper continue, will be without fuel. My friend and colleague Shimon Fogel, CEO of the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs certainly understood the issue well when he explained recently in an interview,

"Absent The CJN, it's going to create serious challenges for us to ensure an adequate level of awareness of what we do, how we do it and ways [people] can become more directly engaged in the advocacy process".

And sadly there is more to this potential loss than meets the eye. Jews have always been people of the book. Voracious readers with many opinions, the development of a Jewish press in North America and Canada specifically spoke to a community that grew with its ability to speak out freely without fear.

As far back as the early 1900s there was an open and healthy Jewish press in Toronto and Montreal where the vast majority of Jews lived. "Der Yidisher Zshurnal" (The Jewish Journal) Toronto's first Jewish community daily published six days a week in the language of Eastern European Jews, Yiddish, similarly the "Adler" (the Eagle) in Montreal fulfilled the role of its Toronto counterpart. And over the years many other Jewish journals and magazines in both English and Yiddish continued to offer new immigrants and later their children, first generation Canadians, news of our community. Whether it was the "Jewish Standard", the communist inspired "Proletarisher Gedank" ( later changing its name to "Der Veg" The Way),the "Canadian Jewish Review" or the "Kanader Naies"(Canadian News), the competition, editorial stands and provision of community information rarely ceased.

Today for perhaps the first time in our young history as a Jewish community in Canada we may be without a trusted journalistic Jewish voice.

To be sure voices are being raised. To my utter delight and surprise the strongest of these voices seem to be emanating from a new younger generation of readers. Twenty-something folks like Rachel Singer and Alana Kayfetz (ironically the niece of one of Canada's most prolific Jewish journalists and community professionals from a day gone by, Ben Kayfetz Z"L) are putting words into action. Utilizing a 21st century communications device, the internet, they have developed a "Save the CJN" campaign" which has to date gathered more than 3000 digital signatures and close to 50,000 page views.

Playwright Arthur Miller once intoned "A good newspaper is a Nation talking to itself", indeed the CJN talked to a nation of Canadian Jews for over 40 years. To let it die without a bang would be a disservice to who we are as a people. Perhaps if we stood up this time and as my late father use to intone "open a mouth" we can save us from ourselves.

Justin's Right, Anne Frank Probably Would Have Been a 'Belieber'

2013-04-22T17:00:00-04:00

Last night, Justin Bieber won the 2013 "Fan's Choice Awards" at the Junos. No real surprise there given his immense, world-wide popularity.

More surprising to me, however, was Justin Bieber's decision while on his European "Believe" tour to make a very special visit to the home of a very special and courageous young woman who died more than 65 years ago, Anne Frank.

I have written often about Anne Frank and her family. In fact, when I was 18 years old I portrayed young Peter Van Daan, the 16-year-old boy who found himself in hiding with the Frank family, in a production of The Diary of Anne Frank for the Ottawa Jewish Community Theatre Guild.

Never would I have believed that so many years later I would be writing a column about a 21st-century teen rock phenom and his rather odd, but in the end, welcome visit to the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam.

The Anne Frank House, the small attic that hid the Frank family, Otto and Edith Frank, Anna and her sister Margot, the Van Daan family (their real name was van Pels) and the elderly dentist Albert Dussel (Fritz Pfeiffer) is today one of the most visited Holocaust museums in the world. Presidents and prime ministers, queens and kings, faith and community leaders have all paid their respects there. But it took the visit of a remarkable 19-year-old pop star, Justin Bieber, for today's generation to stand up and take notice.

To be sure, Bieber's visit was not without controversy. Seems every step he takes and each word he utters is examined and parsed ad-infinitum. Indeed, this visit arranged after-hours to accommodate the young star's schedule was no exception. After completing his tour, an obviously moved Justin Bieber wrote in the guest book: "Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a belieber."

Justin Bieber's fans are known as "Beliebers."

The social media world went wild. On Facebook there was a torrent of hyperbolic criticism. Many accusing the young star of putting his ego ahead of history, others lamenting that Bieber just didn't get it. Still others heaping vitriol the likes of which is simply unprintable.

In the rush to judgment many simply refused to slow down and look at this matter with some perspective. To the credit of Rabbi Marvin Hier, dean of the Simon Wiesenthal Center, he brought a sense of clarity to Bieber's visit by explaining that Anne Frank was just like any other young girl of her day.

"Had Frank been born 70 years later, she would have likely been a 'Belieber,'" explained Rabbi Hier. "There's nothing insulting about that," he told CNN. "She was very modern and she could very likely be his fan and on Twitter."

The Rabbi is quite right. The tragic circumstances facing Jews in Europe as a result of Hitler's maniacal and obsessive hatred forced Anne and her family into hiding. Like many other young Jewish teens of her day, Anne was robbed of her adolescence. And in the end, like the other 1.5 million Jewish children, she was also robbed of her life.

At a time when the world continues to struggle with hatred and terrorism, the decision by Justin Bieber to visit the Anne Frank House should be seen through a positive lens. Bieber has helped expose this courageous young Jewish girl with so much talent, moxie and heart to a whole new generation of teenagers, many of whom tragically never heard of Anne Frank or possibly even the Holocaust of which she was a victim.

Indeed, Bieber deserves kudos, not censure for opening his world to the memory of a young girl who herself was fascinated by Hollywood stars, music and poetry. Had she lived, who knows, Anne Frank may have been an actress, a renowned author or playwright. That her life was cut short because of murderous racism is the real tragedy. That Justin Bieber is telling her story should give us heart.

You Don't Have to be Jewish or Liberal to Believe in Social Justice

2013-04-10T08:27:20-04:00

In a Huffington Post Blog submission last week, B'nai Brith Canada CEO Frank Dimant wrote:

There is already a movement that wants to neutralize Jewish support for the Conservative Party and the mantra is that all three parties have the same agenda regarding Israel, a two-state solution, so why do we have to support the Conservatives? In a well-orchestrated campaign we will soon begin to see a new Jewish agenda being proposed by some, which will advocate that Jewish community adjust its focus to Aboriginal issues, child poverty, health care and social housing. There will be a concentrated effort to realign the Jewish agenda with that of the Liberal Party, an effort which was made in the last election by the now defunct Canadian Jewish Congress

Now to be clear the entire blog was dedicated to an attack on Canadian Jews who would dare identify themselves as Liberals, indeed I would argue, even social justice advocates. Yet even for Frank Dimant that quote seemed a rather strange assertion.

Let's parse Frank's words. He insinuates that there is something "new" about Canadian Jews taking an interest in Aboriginal issues, child poverty and social housing. I'm surprised Frank thinks this is new. In fact, these matters have been part of the "Jewish agenda" here in Canada ever since Jews began to immigrate here more than 100 years ago. Indeed, they have always been part of the Jewish social conscience.

And truth be told, it's not even "new" to B'nai Brith Canada. Following in the footsteps of the former Canadian Jewish Congress, (CJC) which in 2006 brought 20 First Nations chiefs to Israel, and a year later offered 15 First Nations women leaders an opportunity to study at the Golda Meir centre in Haifa, B'nai Brith also reached out to our First Nations people. Stated Frank Dimant on offering its "137 years experience in this country" to build bridges with Canada's Aboriginal groups just two months ago:

Because we are a financially modest organization we will be in a position to relate to the challenges of the communities and creatively work together in partnership with the government to bring about new infrastructure and educational programming

B'nai Brith should be commended for seeing the value begun by CJC in reaching out to First Nations and choosing to do the same even if it is by Frank's standards, a "Liberal" agenda item.

As for child poverty, this too is hardly new for Jewish social justice organizations and it's not new to B'nai Brith Canada either. As far back as 1995 B'nai Brith's Rubin Freedman presented its position on eradicating child poverty to a Parliamentary Commission and again like CJC was involved in a number of national campaigns to fight this scourge including "The Campaign Against Child Poverty."

In terms of health care, "B'nai Brith has actually partnered with the federal government in trying to help fight Alzheimer's disease and "Liberal agenda" or not, such actions should be applauded.

And as for social housing another "agenda" item identified as "Liberal" by Frank Dimant, well here too B'nai Brith has actually shown some fine leadership. In describing its work on affordable housing for senior citizens in Toronto to the Community Care network, B'nai Brith wrote:

As an outgrowth of our ongoing historic commitment to serve the needs of the community, B'nai Brith Canada established an Affordable Housing Program in 1979. Its mission is to provide and maintain affordable, attractive, secure, and welcoming housing to low to moderate income residents.

During my close to 30 years service with Canadian Jewish Congress, I stand proudly by the fact that we engaged and embraced issues that our own tradition demanded of us. Just a few short weeks ago Jews the world over celebrated Passover. There is a well known verse written in the Passover text that says:

"Let all who are hungry come in and eat, let all who are needy come in and make Passover."

In many ways this simple verse sums up the responsibility we as Jews have for one another. Explains Rabbi Tom Mayer of Aish HaTorah:

The message is that we cannot have true personal freedom unless we care about other people... Why is caring about other people so crucial to our own sense of freedom? Because we cannot get out of our ego unless we care about other people. A person has to get outside himself and realize that the welfare of others is part of his own happiness and freedom.

So in the end many will not be surprised to read that I respectfully disagree with Frank Dimant. And yes, like my friend MP Irwin Cotler, I count myself as a Jewish Liberal and human rights activist. We both support and love the State of Israel, but we also know that as Jews, believing in social justice is not just a "Liberal" value. Indeed you don't have to be Jewish or Conservative or Liberal or NDP or at all politically affiliated to fight child poverty, to work towards affordable housing and to seek a healthy community for all.

A Sad Goodbye to Toronto's King of Smoked Meat

2013-03-20T16:55:36-04:00

Wolfie Zimmerman, the little known king of the Toronto smoked meat sandwich passed away a couple of weeks ago.

I will miss him. Very few deli owners had Wolfie's touch. Located in a utilitarian strip mall in Toronto's Jewish enclave just west of Bathurst on Sheppard Avenue, Wolfie's was everything a Jewish Deli should be. Small, with tiny tables crammed into every corner, a loud boisterous crowd mostly my co-religionists but you certainly didn't have to be Jewish to love Wolfie's smoked meat and raucous debate.

View image wolfie doing what he did best-cutting smoked meat

Tory, Liberal or NDP, all stripe of politics, gossip and kvetching came free with smoked meat piled six inches high on Silverstein rye with your choice of regular or hot mustard. A slice of dill, full or half sour, with a scoop of potato salad rounded out a paper plate. It was a meal fit for the common person to make you feel like a million bucks.

And Wolfie knew all his fressers (clientele/eaters for lack of a better translation) by name. "Ah Bernie's here" he would call out as I walked through the door "smoked meat, hot mustard, cole slaw and a Cott's Black Cherry". And truth be told his sandwich was a work of art. Try as I might there was simply no way you could get your whole mouth around one of Wolfie's sandwiches.

Wolfie's was always a family affair. His daughter Gila and her husband David Gelberman worked the counter and cash and do so to this very day. And lately their children have taken their rightful place behind the counter. But Wolfie was the undisputed king of his deli.

Wolfie's was a place for carnivores. The one time I mistakenly brought a friend to the deli who was a vegetarian I recall Wolfie looking at him uncomprehendingly, "what you don't eat meat"? Wolfie asked incredulously. No matter, in seconds my guest had a plate filled with potato salad, cole slaw rye bread and pickles. "No one goes away from here hungry", I recall Wolfie saying," not even a vegetable fresser".

Born 90 years ago in the small Polish village of Tarnobrzeg to a family of eight brothers and sisters, Wolfie's story is both familiar and unique. Like many Jews of Eastern Europe Wolfie's family were, as the Shalom Aleichem tale is fond of noting, "not poor but they weren't rich either". Life was tough but imbued with Jewish culture and tradition.

The outbreak of World War 2 changed everything for Polish Jewry and Wolfie's family was no exception. By the time the Nazi killing machine had been halted Wolfie had survived 13 labour camps. When he was finally liberated from Bergen Belsen in 1945 he found his family decimated. His mother and five of his siblings were murdered by the Nazis. Miraculously, his father survived and Wolfie always credited his father for keeping him alive as he entered his first camp at the age of 17.

Wolfie, like so many other survivors refused to let grief and tragedy mark his future. In 1946, Wolfie married Rose in a displaced persons camp where his first child was born and three years later they journeyed to Israel to begin a new life. In 1959 he emigrated from Israel to Canada where he painted homes for a few years in order to provide for his family.

Tired of schlepping paint and ladders and after making enough money he purchased a small bar on Queen Street that he operated until 1975 when he joined with his son-in-law David to open Wolfie's.

And there he stayed for more than thirty five years happily reigning over his small smoked meat kingdom that saw a whole range of humanity pass through its doors; police officers, firefighters, ambulance drivers, politicians, community leaders and just plain folk. Wolfie was one of a kind. And while he has now passed on to the great deli in the sky, he has left us a real gift, a smoked meat sandwich the way it is supposed to be served, piled high on double rye with a smack of yellow mustard and a dollop of humour and opinionated debate. May his memory be for a blessing.

Why We Can No Longer Call Canada an Advocate for Human Rights

2013-02-01T12:00:21-05:00

With little fanfare, Canada was scolded last month by both the United Nations and Amnesty International over its human rights record. Yes you read this correctly -- Canada.

The two areas that attracted the most attention by the UN/ Amnesty International human rights experts were Canada's record when it came to refugees and internally the manner in which we continue to discriminate against our First Nations people.

While politicians mouth the usual platitudes in support of refugees and First Nations their actions demonstrate the platitudes are nothing but a smoke screen.

On the refugee front Canada was, for decades, considered a safe harbour for those fleeing persecution from their countries of origin. Where the stateless once saw us as kind and benevolent, today refugees are routinely targeted and easily returned from whence they came.

Just a few weeks ago Jason Kenny, the Minister of Immigration saw fit to denote Hungary, amongst a number of EU countries, as a "designated safe country." The result of this move means that asylum seekers arriving from these "safe countries" have their claims fast tracked and the decision of the immigration adjudicators are final; no appeals to the process. Everyone knows this was put in place to deny access to Roma refugees from Hungary where they and other minorities, specifically Jews, face bigotry, discrimination and even death.

Incredibly the Canadian government has even gone to the extreme length of funding billboards in certain Hungarian cities with large Roma populations stating that the Canadian refugee system has changed recently: "Those people who make a claim without sound reasons will be processed faster and removed faster."

When the official opposition in Hungary, the fascist Jobbik party, appears to applaud neo-Nazi violence against Roma communities while demanding lists of Hungarian Jews one wonders how Canada sees Hungary as "safe."

And right here at home the UN and Amnesty International observers waste few words when it comes to the treatment of Canada's Aboriginal people.

According to the Amnesty report:

"By every measure, be it respect for treaty and land rights, levels of poverty, average life spans, violence against women and girls, dramatically disproportionate levels of arrest and incarceration or access to government services such as housing, health care, education, water and child protection, indigenous peoples across Canada continue to face a grave human rights crisis."

L-R: Dr. Michael Dan, Chief Theresa Spence, former national Chief Phil Fontaine, Bernie Farber

While many criticized Attawapiskat Chief Theresa Spence who only recently ended her hunger strike, she undoubtedly shone the light of betrayal on the government's treatment of her people. The grassroots movement of young First Nations activists, IdleNoMore has grown out of her work and together with the more governance-minded and mainstream Assembly of First Nations action is finally underway.

And it's about time. Despite having a rich and intact cultural history, the standard of living on too many First Nations reserves is closer to Third World conditions than what Canadians would expect even for the most destitute in our society.

Unsafe housing with extensive black mould, dilapidated structures, rampant prescription narcotic drug abuse/addiction, interpersonal abuse, lack of primary healthcare, unsafe drinking water and waste treatment, near complete unemployment, lack of an identifiable economy, and a fundamental lack of hope permeates many First Nations reserves.

Having personally visited a number of Aboriginal communities, I remain convinced that if Canadians were able to spend even a few days on such a First Nations Reserve the outcry of anger and humiliation would lead toward change. Instead, we either choose wilful blindness or more to the point given that most of these reserves are so far from our consciousness the old adage "out of sight-out of mind" prevails.

As Canadians we consider ourselves to be open, honest -- a welcoming society. Yet for those from afar struggling to build a new life and for our First Nations right here struggling to change their lives for the better, that openness rings very hollow.

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Jewish Santa Claus

2012-12-25T12:40:34-05:00

It's Christmas day. And as I gaze at the palm trees, green grass and lush vegetation outside my in-laws' condo in Boca Raton, I still cannot reconcile a warm summer-like December 25th with my rich memories growing up in Ottawa, where Christmas meant mounds of snow and icy cold temperatures.

Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of being able to sit on the beach , take in the sun and read the latest John Grisham novel. But nostalgia is a powerful seducer and memory itself a warm blanket.

When I was a child growing up in Ottawa in the 1950s and 60s, snow, wind and cold seemed as inseparable from this time of the year as potato latkes and Chanukah. Being one of only a small number of Jewish families in the city, we inescapably got caught in a Christmas spirit that enveloped us all.

*Christmas Day, 1960. Author with his mother and brother in front of their Ottawa home.

While today arguments ensue about the proper "holiday greeting," in Ottawa in the latter half of the 20th century, it seemed common place to wish everyone a "Merry Christmas and a Happy New year." To be sure, the change has much to do with the different patterns of immigration then and now, but it also has to do with what I can only describe as the spirit of the season.

My memories of the time are rich and deep of those few days just before the Christmas holidays, when I walked beside my father who often took me to school on his way to open our small family grocery store. Despite the bitter cold, I felt warm bundled up in my wool overcoat, scarf and that ugly cap with sheep-skin flaps that covered my ears. I still recall warmly that scrunch of the snow under our heels as we walked up the Somerset Street hill toward my elementary school.

Osgoode Street Public School, established in 1898, covered kindergarten to grade 6. It was an interesting hodgepodge of children, many from immigrant families that had settled in the Sandy Hill area of Ottawa just after the war. They were mostly Eastern Europeans whose first languages ranged from Ukrainian to Italian with smatterings of German, Polish and -- like mine -- the odd Yiddish speaking family. My younger brother Stan and I and the Cohen twins were the only Jewish children at Osgoode Street Public school. Christmas pageants were a regular and highly anticipated holiday assembly. We all got to play roles, from shepherds wearing cotton beards to angels with paper wings. I still recall my parents' sardonic smiles when I came home in early December 1960 to announce that I would be playing Joseph that year.

All the Jewish kids wanted so much simply to fit in. We felt so different, and Christmas, though not our holiday, was a time when the usual anti-Semitic taunts we had to endure daily gave way to a cheery "Merry Christmas." I loved the Christmas carols, the words of which are ingrained to this day in my mind. I can still sing a mean "Joy to the world" as well as "Dreidle Dreidle, Dreidle." Indeed many years later as a social worker with the Childrens' aid Society, it was this Jewish guy that led the group of foster children in carol-singing during the regular Christmas parties.

But my most vivid memory of the time was the Jewish-owned Frieman's department store on downtown Rideau Street. Many decades later it was bought by the Bay Company, but in 1960 it was Ottawa's Christmas Winter wonderland. A miniature train began inside the Frieman's show window, and we were all in awe as it chugged its way through Toyland towards, who else but Santa Clause himself. I recall my concern that time I departed the train and decided I too would sit on Santa's lap. As I approached the white bearded man, my Jewish heart pumping a mile a minute, I wondered if an electrical bolt would be sent down from the heavens. Turns out Santa was none other than Moishe Gorinsky, a Jewish friend of my father's moonlighting that year as a department store Claus. It was a sobering experience for a 9-year-old Jewish boy in 1960, to be sure.

Today the season is much different. Christmas is openly shared with the many other rich faith traditions that make up Canada in the 21st century. Kwanza, Diwali and my own Chanukah celebration have all been woven into this time of the year, making us all feel part of the season. And while I welcome and embrace the changes, once in a while, I cannot help but bring to mind a simpler time long ago when a young Jewish boy sat on a the lap of a Jewish Santa and played Joseph in his school Christmas pageant.

Decades Later, Mercury Still Poisons These Native Reserves

2012-12-10T17:54:42-05:00

Imagine, if you will, a disease that affects only a specific population group whose symptoms can include muscular numbness, hearing and speech defects, paralysis, insanity, coma and even death. Then consider this, as bad as the symptoms are for adults and children, for pregnant women and their yet unborn babies, the effects are devastating; a generational legacy of deformed infants, brain damaged as they grow older and possibly dying a painful death well before they should.

Imagine as well that such a disease resulted not from unknown factors but was man-induced. Then imagine that such a disease ran rampant right here in Canada, in northern Ontario and today very few are even aware it ever happened.

Back in the early 1960s the Dryden Chemical Company in Dryden, Ontario ran a process plant, which made "chloralkali." This substance produces chlorine, sodium hydroxide and hydrogen, useful chemicals when reacting with other compounds giving us much of today's creature comforts from energy-efficient building materials and solar energy panels, to pharmaceuticals and crop protection products, to electronics and fibre optics, amongst much else.

Sadly though this chemical company, in producing reams of chloralkali, utilized the mercury cell method. The results were disastrous. The Dryden Pulp and Paper Company used the sodium hydroxide and chlorine emanating from the process for bleaching paper during production. The company then discharged their liquid sewage waste, tonnes of it, into the nearby Wabigoon-English River system. This poisoned not only the water but eventually the fish as well. Of course fish was the main source of food and nutrients for two First Nations Reserves, Grassy Narrows and White Dog not to mention the related fishing tourism industry.

It took a few years but finally the mercury problem was identified in 1969 and a year later the company was ordered by the government to cease its release of mercury into the river. It was estimated that between 1962 and 1970 over 9,000 kg of mercury had been poured into the Wabigoon-English River system. And even though ordered to stop the liquid sewage dumping, the company continued its airborne emissions of mercury till shortly before it closed down in 1976.

Despite the astounding levels of mercury dumped into the waterway and then the atmosphere, there was no real sense of urgency in getting the message out. In fact many mixed messages about the safety of eating the fish seemed to be the order of the day.

Minamata disease is the syndrome caused by mercury poisoning. It was named after a disaster in in a small southern Japanese town of Minamata where in the 1950s the Chisso Chemical Company dumped over 27-tonnes of Mercury compound into Minamata Bay. Tragically it resulted in over 3,000 inhabitants contracting Mercury poisoning with more than 300 deaths.

The Japanese understood all too well the effects of Mercury poisoning. Indeed Japanese scientists having learned about the situation at Grassy Narrows and White Dog sent a team of scientists and doctors led by Masazumi Harada, to the reserves in the mid 1970s followed by four subsequent visits, the final one this past summer, to document the progress of the disease. What they found was produced in a report released this year; the only comprehensive study ever undertaken.

Astoundingly, more than four decades later the effects of mercury poisoning persist. Japanese scientists examined 160 adults from Grassy Narrows and White Dog reserve. Over 33 per cent were diagnosed with the disease and a total of 58 per cent were still affected in some way by the mercury. Indeed while the levels of mercury in the fish were lower than decades earlier they were still above safe levels. So over 40 years later children and grand children from these reserves are still being impacted by mercury poisoning. Sadly Dr. Masazumi Harada, the world's leading expert om Minamata Disease passed away one week after the release of this report.

Grassy Narrows Minimata victims

And what of compensation? Both the federal and provincial governments long turned a blind eye. Unlike in Japan where the government and private industry finally took responsibility offering their victims between $2,000 and $8,000 a month in compensation depending on severity of the case. In Canada, where after many years the government has finally allowed for some compensation payments range from $250 to $800 per month.

The First Nations consider themselves the "stewards of the earth." Aboriginal elders tell their people '"treat the Earth well; it was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children."

Fifty years after big business poured tonnes of poisonous mercury into the Wabigoon-English river system while society turned its back and did nothing, the river has found a way to give back. Discussions are underway with the Grassy Narrows First Nations to use their traditional waterways to potentially create safe clean hydro electric power. Such partnerships help to restore trust and bring dignity back to those we treated with such disdain.

We have driven First Nations from their traditional lands, poisoned their waters and trampled their rights We have not yet learned to treat the Earth with respect and have left a legacy of pollution for all our children. It is time we find ways to both compensate for past wrongs while partnering with First Nations to help build a better future.

The Boss Performs a "Mitzvah" For An 11-Year-Old Girl

2012-10-28T16:59:14-04:00

The Boss, Bruce Springsteen, a 63-year-old rocker who began his career in his native New Jersey struggling for success in the late 1960s and taking off by the mid 1970s has become a musical icon. I saw him for the first time in 1976 at Ottawa's National Arts Center and became a devoted fan.

The Boss appeals to the boomer generation but is embraced by us all. When my kids were in their teens I took them to a Springsteen concert in Toronto. An eclectic mixture of boomer-rockers ranging in age from 50 to 75, teenagers, thirty somethings, all exuberantly joining The Boss as he held out the microphone to his packed audience as they effortlessly sang the full lyrics to "Hungry Heart." The Boss and his fans they are like one.

Springsteen in crowd

I have had the good fortune to see Bruce on many occasions. Each concert had its own vibe, its own passion. "The E Street Band" those devoted musicians like guitarist Stevie Van Zandt, lead Guitar the tiny but mighty Nils Lofgren, drummer and center piece Max Weinberg, keyboardist Roy Bittan, bassist Gary Tallent and the late saxophonist Clarence Clemons and organist Danny Federici, were the true heart. And even with the passing of the "Big Man" (Clemons) and Federici one of Springsteen's oldest and closest friends he has managed to maintain that heart and soul.

Springsteen's relationship with his audience is a love-love affair. He unlike many other famous rockers famously has few if any body guards. Indeed quite the contrary, it's not uncommon for Bruce to literally throw himself into the crowd where his adoring fans lift him full body on to their shoulders passing him from shoulder to shoulder around the entire auditorium as he sings Cadillac Ranch or Glory Days.

Fans arrive for the concerts with self made placards, requests for their favorite songs. And from time to time he will bring these fans on to the stage where he spontaneously plays there requests, sings and dances with them; it's truly an astounding sight.

Last week in Hamilton Ontario at the Copps Coliseum The Boss played arguably one of his most frenetic concerts that lasted his usual three hours plus. It had all the ingredients one would expect at a Springsteen gathering. The energy began to build among the 18,000 plus fans and when The Boss hit the stage the crowd went wild; a typical Springsteen concert with a unique exception; eleven year old Grace Mahler.

Grace Mahler has attended five Springsteen concerts in the past with her parents, devoted Boss fans, but this time she had a goal in mind, to ask Bruce to sing Terry's Song. Bruce has only sung this song live once before. It was written by Bruce as a testament to his old friend and personal assistant Terry Magovern who had died in 2007. It spoke of love as being a power greater than death. It spoke of friendship and loyalty and memory.

"Love is a power greater than death, just like the songs and stories told. And when she built you, brother, she broke the mold. That attitude's a power stronger than death."

You see 11-year-old Grace was struggling with death -- a burdensome issue for even adults to face. Her good friend and basketball team mate, Sydney Wood, had died suddenly this past August of a brain abnormality and Grace has been trying to understand how and why. Bruce Springsteen became that key to understanding.

Grace felt an especially strong connection to Terry's Song; "I picked Terry's Song because I knew that Bruce had written that song after his friend had died so he knows how I feel - that love is stronger than death," Grace explained. So with determination and hopeful exuberance only real children understand Grace sketched out her sign "Terry's Song for my friend Sydney up in heaven" and she made her way with her parents John and Mary as well as her sister Ella to the Hamilton concert.

In order to get "into the pit" fans line up hours in advance. Wrist bracelets are distributed with numbers for a lottery. Grace got # 13, ironically Sydney's soccer number. The Mahlers made it into the pit by 13 numbers. The last person in the pit had bracelet 311-11 was Sydney's basketball number.

Grace had faith that the Big Man, Danny and Terry were with her that night. Indeed the faith was well founded. It was strangers in the pit who lifted Grace up onto their shoulders to try and get the sign to Bruce.

Bruce and Grace

Bruce missed her his first time around but Grace was determined and in his next foray into the crowd Bruce leaned in and took the sign. Bruce takes many signs, does his best but cannot sing them all. Yet something mystical happened that night in Copps Coliseum; Bruce read the message approached the mic and with the house lights dimmed and a pin light shining on him he told what has become known as the message of hope, Terry's story, one of love, true camaraderie, and utter devotion. He then dedicated Terry's Song to Sydney and played it for only the second time in a live performance. As Grace's Mom Mary remarked, "Grace at that moment was the picture of pure joy; joy that so many people now knew how loved Sydney is by her friends."

Bruce singing Terry's Song

In my tradition we speak of those who do wonderful deeds out of nothing but selflessness, we call them Mitzvahs. On that night in Hamilton Bruce Springsteen did a true Mitzvah. He helped a little girl deal with her grief. He helped Grace understand that while death hurts love is so strong it is more powerful than death. Said Grace after the concert: "My best feeling is knowing that Sydney is smiling up in Heaven and that Coach Greg and Miss Sue and her sisters can smile knowing Bruce sang for Sydney."

A Decade of Deaths Under a Bridge

2012-10-15T09:51:40-04:00

In summertime, the lazy McIntyre River, a tributary of Lake Superior, is a picturesque waterway that meanders through Thunder Bay's George Burke Park. An easy canoe paddle will give you a view of white and black spruce, birch and poplar, and a host of northern Ontario wildflowers.

However for 15-year-old Jethro Anderson; Curran Strang, 18; Reggie Bushie, 15; and Kyle Morrisseau, 17 -- all First Nations high school students -- the river was to be their final resting place. Three other First Nations students, Paul Panacheese, 17; Robyn Harper, 18; and 15-year-old Jordan Wabasse, were also First Nations students sent from their remote northern Ontario reserves to a high school in Thunder Bay, all (except the only girl Robyn Harper) were found dead in the waterways leading to Lake Superior.

It has been just over a year since the last body, that of Jordan Wabasse washed up onto shore. One year with still few answers.

This tragedy began Nov. 11, 2000, when Jethro Anderson's young body was recovered from the McIntyre River. There were signs that he had been drinking. Indeed, all these students whose bodies were pulled from the river showed signs of heavy drinking. Alcohol, Oxycoton and marijuana are the most common drugs young people turn to on the reserve.

Suicide is rampant and sometimes, young people just wander stoned, too high to judge the danger of trucks barreling down on them as they stagger on highways. So the opportunity to leave the reserve for cities such as Thunder Bay holds an almost romantic appeal.

While some students are boarded in good homes, there remains no real social network for them, no family or other support system. This often leads to the only "friend" these young people have known: drugs and alcohol.

The Dennis Cromarty High School in Thunder Bay is where most of the northern reserve teens attend because it offers these students options and opportunities. Sometimes, it works miracles.

Its principal, Jonathan Kakegamic, is a compassionate and sympathetic educator. He is haunted by the seven deaths. In a voiced choked with emotion, he told CBC's the Fifth Estate: "I'll never forget these kids. I can't comprehend what these parents are going through."

Kakegamic is no stranger to the pain and struggles of his students. For one, he realizes that he is dealing with first-year high school students who read at a third grade level. Yet, protecting these vulnerable First Nations children is his first concern. Each student from a northern Ontario reserve (there are about 18) is thoroughly screened. They are asked to identify any tattoos or unique birthmarks in order to identify them if the worst happens.

The school hired Robbie Kakegamic, a cousin of the principal, as a guide and mentor to these kids. Mostly, his job is to try and keep them safe. Along with the principal and other volunteers, Kakegamic patrols the banks of the McIntyre and Kaministiqua Rivers, especially under the William Street Bridge a favourite spot to drink and get stoned.

Kakegamic recalls a tearful request from the parent of one of the reserve children: "Take good care of my son." Can there be a more sincere plea?

And yet, sons and daughters have died. Jordan Wabasse went missing Feb. 7, 2011. He'd taken a bus to his usual stop, six blocks from the river's edge and only one block from his boarding house. His body washed up on the shores of the Kaministiqua River three months later.

The story repeated for many of the others. One student, a new arrival from Deep River reserve, told Kakegamic that Thunder Bay scared her. "So many eyes," she said. And so to blunt the staring, she, like many others, turned to pot and alcohol. "Smoking just makes the pain go away," she tells us, followed by a far-off stare, "but really it just makes it worse."

It seems to come down to one fact: There is simply a disproportionate lack of funds to First Nations schools. First Nations education is a federal responsibility, and with the failure of the 2005 Kelowna Accord that was to see a $5 billion plan to start a healing and building process on reserves, the fog of hopelessness continues.

Recently the federal budget committed $275 million to improving First Nations education -- $100 million for literacy and $175 million to build and maintain schools. Aboriginal leaders concede it is a start but a pittance of what is needed.

The province of Ontario has finally decided to take some action. The documentary by CBC's Fifth Estate, numerous articles including this one which appeared originally in the Ottawa Citizen last spring, and the fact that the parents of the victims never let this go has led Ontario's Chief Coroner to hold a joint inquest to all seven deaths. Though called last spring the inquest has yet to commence.

Aboriginal children have the right to an education equal to that of any child in this country. Whether properly funded schools are established on reserves where numbers warrant or in the alternative schools like the Cromarty school in Thunder Bay is funded adequately, we must act.

Until we understand and embrace this need, we can only pray that the young students heading from their reserve to the big city heed the admonition of Robbie Kakegamic, when he begs them, "Don't go under that bridge."

The Man Fighting Hate Speech Without Parliament's Support

2012-10-05T07:18:51-04:00

On Tuesday October 2, the Federal Court of Canada found S13 of Canada's Human Rights legislation dealing with hate on the Internet to be constitutional. The irony of course is the fact that a few months earlier a federal private members bill repealed this section choosing not to wait to hear the wisdom from the Court. Nonetheless many can take some comfort and at least be able to say "I told you so."

A key key figure who utilized S13 to help defend ethnic and faith minorities against toxic speech is a friend and a person I consider a hero, Richard Warman. Sadly instead of gratitude Warman was victimized for his efforts.

Author with Richard Warman at Jerusalem's Western Wall

While many did engage in a rational debate on S13, some scurrilously targeted him. It appeared they were more interested in their freedom to hate as opposed to their freedom of speech. In order to accomplish their goals they utilized the well worn technique of historical revisionism where they would take a grain of truth and build upon it a mountain of lies.

It was said of Richard Warman for example that he launched frivolous cases attacking people's rights to free speech. The truth of course is much different.

Richard launched 16 cases that went to the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal (CHRT), virtually every one of those cases involved outright calls for genocide and/or ethnic cleansing. For example in Warman v. Harrison, Richard Warman was able to prove that the defendant, Craig Harrison, made repeated calls for genocide against the Aboriginal, black, Jewish and francophone communities. Here are some of the messages posted by Harrison:

• "kill anyone who is not white because god says so."
• "god says rise up and kill all whites who date blacks."
• "i saw a film clip on the holohoax were(sic) a kid and his mother were separated in the camps!imagine how more worse the world would be if hitler hadnt (sic) fried all those jews! i wish i could have been in charge of the gas chambers!"

There was also the case of Warman v. Canadian Ethnic Cleansing Team (CECT) et al. In this matter the CECT a vile White Supremacist group called for attacks against mosques/synagogues and members of the Muslim and Jewish communities. According to the Hearing decision the CECT posted the following from then American neo-Nazi leader William Pierce:

"If we want our kind to survive on this planet longer than another generation or two, then we must clear the cobwebs of Christian superstition and Jewish propaganda from our minds and face the facts without being squeamish...we must have exclusive possession of those portions of this planet which constitute suitable habitat for us...in order to obtain and maintain that exclusive possession, we must be prepared to kill, to annihilate, any and all competitors...racism is God's gift to any race that wants to survive. Racism is healthy and natural and essential, and we had damned well better clear of [sic] minds of the Judeo-Christian lie that it is evil and wicked and nasty and low-brow."

Another of the 16 cases, Warman v. Kyburz, involved Fred Kyburz who posted material calling for genocide against the Jewish community. Kyburz was obsessed with trying to spread hatred about Jews. Much of his material was garnered from the aforementioned American neo-Nazi leader William Pierce. Indeed the three CHRT members pointed out the depravity of Kyburz's targeting of Jews writing:

"On October 25, 2000, Mr. Kyburz published an article written by William Pierce, entitled 'There will be Hell to pay.' This is a lengthy article -- one quite remarkable in the level of vitriol that it directs at Jews."

They noted the article deals with many issues, including the neo-Nazi canard that Jews control the media and the production of child pornography and that as such they "should be exterminated root and branch as a class." Further, it makes the argument that the slaughter of every Jew in Russia would be a justifiable act.

Virtually all of Richard Warman's cases brought before the CHRT were similar in hate and poison to the few examples I have extrapolated herein.

For the most part the remedies on these complaints were fines and cease and desist orders. Warman, in helping to remove such vitriol from the Internet, himself became a victim. He was the poster boy for those who believed they were saving Canada from the "censors." In reality it's Richard Warman who was the hero for shutting down some of the most vicious hate sites ever established.

And so today Richard Warman can hold his head high, vindicated by the judiciary yet in the end it is a hollow victory. While S13 remains in effect until its repeal is rubber-stamped by the Senate and given Royal consent, we have fewer tools to fight hate and we are the lesser for it.

As Yom Kippur Nears, So Do My Memories of Treblinka

2012-09-24T08:03:34-04:00

As summer's gentle breeze slowly gives way to autumn's brilliant colours and cooler temperatures, the thoughts of Jews around the world inevitably turns towards renewal, memory and atonement. It's the time our New Year rolls around followed by the holiest day in the Jewish calendar, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.

For me, my thoughts are laced with tears, confusion and questions about humankind. It is the time I think of my father's family -- all but him murdered in the gas chambers of the Treblinka Death Camp. It is a time I recall my journey to that place.

It was a place I was afraid to visit. It was a place whose desolate and dreary forest held memories singed with horror. Even the trees, I am told, cry at Treblinka. The death camp established by the Nazis during the Second World War in occupied Poland was the site of the murder of nearly 800,000 Jews; amongst them, my half-brothers Sholom, age 13, and Yitzhak, age eight.

Both boys lived with my father and his first wife in the small Polish village of Bocki along with its other 750 Jewish inhabitants. After the outbreak of the World War Two, the Nazis gathered the Jews of Bocki in a small ghetto, then moved them to the larger Sokolow Podlaski Ghetto in order to better liquidate the entire region.

Family members of the author: Left-right, Aunt Malka, half brother Yitzchak, grandfather Mordechai, unidentified woman with child, half brother Sholom, father Max, wife Zisela.

On Nov. 11, 1942, the Nazi SS began the full liquidation of the region. My father, as fate would have it, slipped out under the ghetto fence that evening with two other men to steal food for their families. He returned to the wailing of sirens and the barking of dogs. He was ensnared in the roundup and placed with other men in a separate cattle car heading to Treblinka. Not knowing the fate of his family, he jumped from the moving train and stole back into the now empty ghetto to find his family gone; on their way to death, on their way to Treblinka.

On a cold wintry day in February 2007, I found myself in a car on a narrow icy road, trees so thick you couldn't see the grey foreboding sky. That place where the icy path was soaked with the blood of my father's entire family -- five brothers and sisters, his parents, cousins, friends and his first wife and children -- I now travelled.

Road to Treblinka

Treblinka, located approximately 100 kilometres east of Warsaw, is hard to find. Though my driver Czarek knew these roads well, he had difficulty finding the obscure turn-off leading to the twisting path into the forest. I am told this was the way the Nazis wanted it: unlike the other concentration camps, which had originally been built as labour camps, Treblinka had only one function -- to gas the Jews of eastern Poland.

One tiny sign at the foot of the path pointed the way. A small private house was at the end of the path. A sign in front read: Muzeum Walki I Meczenstwa, "Museum of Fighting and Martyrdom." It had one room whose front wall had pictures of Treblinka during the war, camp artifacts and panels explaining the layout of the area. The camp itself was a one kilometre walk along an unplowed icy trail. We were given a small map by the groundskeeper and sent on our way. Czarek and I were its only visitors.

Sign to Treblinka

We began our slow trek. To our left were single stone columns lying flat one after another. These represented the torn-up railway line that brought the cattle cars filled with Jews to be slaughtered.

Railroad ties

In my mind's eye, I saw the train bearing Yitzchak and Sholom slowly wind its way to the arrival ramp. I remember reading about the process of death. Men, women and children were each given a zloty coin to be collected as they entered the "baths," an artifice the Nazis employed to prevent panic. By the time they got to the doors of the execution chamber, it was too late. Guards with vicious dogs drove their victims through with their hands up so as to squeeze in as many as possible. Small children like Yitzchak were often thrown on top of the adults. The doors were locked shut, and then came the gas. Fifteen minutes of agonizing screams that have haunted our family's nightmares ever since, and it was over.

Remenants of Treblinka gas chamber

At his trial, Franz Stangl, commandant of Treblinka, was asked how many people could be killed in one day. He said that in about 14 hours, as many as 15,000 people might be annihilated. "According to my estimation, a transport of 30 freight cars with 3,000 people was liquidated in three hours," he declared.

"I have done nothing to anybody that was not my duty," he added. "My conscience is clear."

Replica monument of Western Wall at Treblinka

Dagger like gravestone monuments

As I sit on a small bench, a small ray of sunshine looks out tentatively from the grey sky as if God is sneaking a quick peak. I look up to see the monument erected in the middle of what was once the camp. It is in the shape of a piece of Judaism's most holy of icons, Jerusalem's Western Wall. Eerily, surrounding it as far as the eye can see are jagged stones each inscribed with the name of a lost Polish Jewish community pointing a dagger-like accusing finger heavenwards to God. I rise slowly, walk towards the stone that memorializes my father's village; and as the ray of sun slowly recedes back into the gray sky, I recite Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead and vow to do so every Yom Kippur from that day forward. As is our custom, I place a small pebble upon the gravestone as a witness to the memory of the Jews of Bocki.

Monument to my father's ghetto

How A "Weasel" Turned a Libyan Arms Dealer Into a CIA Mole

2012-09-23T00:00:50-04:00

A book has been written about him. He has cavorted with mafia bosses, terrorists, smugglers, murderers and thieves. It is even believed that he knows the final resting place of Teamsters' boss Jimmy Hoffa. And why not, he use to be Hoffa's driver in the day. Marvin "the Weasel" Elkind a petty thief, little-known pro boxer, born in Jewish Toronto, shunted through foster homes ending up in reform school has a story that reads like a Hollywood gangster movie.

Marvin began his career as a welter weight boxer who if it were not for his association with mobsters and crime might have been a contender. Marvin tells the story of one of his first fights in Miami in 1953. That evening he was scheduled to fight Rocky Castellani, a welter weight who a few years later lost a close split decision to hall of famer Sugar Ray Robinson.

Just before the fight was to begin two toughs with guns showing through their jackets walked in and cleared the dressing room. Once empty, a short elegantly dressed man walked in puffing away on a cigar; it was Myer Lansky, famed American Jewish mobster. "Hob nit kain moirch" (Don't be afraid), Lansky said to him in Yiddish and proceeded to engage him in a conversation which led to Marvin understanding that Lansky wanted him to throw the fight in the third round. With an enticement of $1,000 (double what he would have made) and the ever-present threat of what may happen if he didn't, Marvin agreed. As he was about to leave, Lansky turned to Marvin and said wryly, "Boychik remember if you don't do this just be sure you have someone around to say Kaddish (the Jewish prayer for the dead)."

Yet "The Weasel" was much more than a second-rate boxer and mafia hanger-on. Marvin worked as a police informant for more than three decades. Whether it was the FBI, US Customs and Border Protection, US Department of the Treasury or our very own OPP with whom he had a long time personal connection, Marvin betrayed mobsters, mercenaries, money launderers and many more across both Canada and the United States. However the sting that Marvin is most proud is the one he pulled against Libyan agents allegedly out to harm his beloved Israel.

It was 1984. Marvin had already been working with OPP Detective Al "Robbie" Robinson, himself a legend within the annals of Canadian policing and ironically a man I worked with during my time at Canadian Jewish Congress. Al Robinson was a tough cop. When I knew him he was tasked to deal with violent neo-Nazis and white supremacists like Wolfgang Droege who were trying to influence Canadian youth and somewhat succeeding. For Marvin, "Robbie" was not just his handler but as he explained to me, "Look kid, Robbie and I were almost the same age but he was like a father to me. He was one of the only people to always say after a sting 'Marv you did a good job.' I never really heard that before. "

Ensconced in a penthouse apartment in downtown Toronto was a former Libyan-diplomat-turned- international-arms-dealer, Muftah El-Abbar -- and amongst much else, a tennis aficionado. Both Canadian and American law enforcement feared he was involved in trying to secure arms for Ghadaffi to be funneled to the then PLO to be used against Israel. El-Abbar was especially interested in military grade helicopters. He was careful; no American agent to date was able to get near him. "Robbie" figured if anyone could do the job it was the Weasel.

Following a briefing by Robbie, Marvin realized that El-Abbar's finances were handled by a Spanish bank in the city. As luck would have it, his estranged brother Stanley, a successful lawyer in Toronto, was at the time on the bank's Board. Even though the brothers had not spoken in years, Marvin with his usual moxie, devised a plan.

In the 1980s, drywall was in short supply. Marvin was in touch with a Toronto builder he knew working on a large construction project in Miami. Promising him a "million dollars" in dry wall Marvin headed to El-Abbar's bank. Meeting the manager and introducing himself as "Marvin Elkind," he explained he had a big business deal for drywall and would require a large loan to purchase it. The bank manger, not knowing of the brothers' estrangement, immediately contacted the builders who confirmed the upcoming business deal. Given all the circumstances the bank was eager to proceed.

All was in place when Marvin explained that the American builder was coming into Toronto and he wanted to entertain him. The builder he explained was a tennis nut and Marvin confided he knew nothing of the game. So began the scam. The bank manager unwittingly made arrangements for his client, Muftah El-Abbar, to meet Marvin's builder friend, who in the end turned out to be a U.S. Treasury agent.

The clever con that Marvin arranged led to El-Abbar's arrest and the subsequent decision it seems for the Libyan agent to work with the CIA. Interestingly, it was this sting that led to information of Ghadhafi's residence that was bombed in 1986 in retaliation for what was believed to be a Libyan- inspired terrorist attack against American servicemen in Berlin.

Marvin Elkind was a mobster and a snitch. By his own admission, Marv did some very bad things, much of which he tells me today he is not proud. As the years have crept up on him, Marvin ponders his own mortality. "You play the cards you're dealt," he explained in his casual blunt manner, "so if I could do this [stop the Libyans], I figured that maybe the Ribono shel Olam (the master of the universe) will be a little nicer to me when my time comes."

The author and Marvin

Before You Compare Something to Hitler and Nazis...Don't

2012-09-12T08:35:26-04:00

"As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches one."

The above statement is known as Godwin's Law. It's based on the principle developed by American lawyer Mike Godwin that if an online conversation goes on long enough, it eventually turns into a mudslinging contest. Both sides become frustrated and less rational, and invariably the argument will include a Nazi or Adolf Hitler comparison. At that point, the discussion is over; the one using the analogy has lost, for the argument has become irrational.

Mike Godwin's theory is based on online discussions, but the Hitler/Nazi comparison goes well beyond the Internet. Sadly, it happens with such regularity it has almost become part of our every day vernacular.

Just this week Ontario PC MPP Jim McDonell was forced to apologize when he compared legislation involving the ORNGE controversy and its alleged secrecy to the manner in which the Nazis operated.

And don't think the United Sates is not without its "Nazi Analogizers." My dear friend and colleague, Menachem Rosensaft right here in Huffington Post wrote last week of that bastion of talk radio extremism Rush Limbaugh who has consistently likened President Obama's health care policy to Nazism, with little or no comment from any mainstream Republican leaders.

"Obama's got a health care logo that's right out of Adolf Hitler's playbook"; "Obama is asking citizens to rat each other out like Hitler did"; the President "is sending out his brownshirts to head up opposition to genuine American citizens who want no part of what Barack Obama stands for and is trying to stuff down our throats"; and "Adolf Hitler, like Barack Obama, also ruled by dictate."

The Democrats too, says Rosenschaft, are certainly not without fault. California Democratic Party Chairman John Burton lambasted Republican Vice Presidential nominee Paul Ryan by suggesting he utilized the "Big Lie" invoking the name of Joseph Goebbels the Nazi Propaganda Minister. Goebbels created the murderous atmosphere necessary to murder 6-million Jews by developing a brutal and hateful demonization of European Jewry.

And the past is replete with examples from both the left and right of the political spectrum of those who it seems temporarily lost their minds with visions of Hitler and Nazism.

In accepting his Nobel Peace Prize a few years ago, former U.S. Vice-President Al Gore used the Hitler analogy to compare world leaders ignoring climate change to those who ignored the potential threat emanating from Nazi Germany's early days.

Here at home, the leader of our Green Party, Elizabeth May, used similar hyperbole, comparing our government's environmental plan to former British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain's appeasement of the Nazis in 1938. Thankfully she later offered a full retraction and apology.

Former Kitchener-Waterloo MP Andrew Telegdi once compared Canada to Nazi Germany in regard to its immigration laws: "Canada is acting like a Nazi-style regime ... That's what Hitler used to do,'' Telegdi said. After some pressure from then Prime Minister Jean Chretien, Mr. Telegdi announced his regret in the House of Commons.

Former Liberal Transport Minister Jean Lapierre accused Bloc Quebecois Leader Gilles Duceppe of employing "a little bit of a Nazi tone'' after Duceppe boasted about making the Liberals "disappear'' in Quebec. Lapierre later apologized and promised he would never use the analogy again.

And on it goes. It seems as though every time a public figure draws a comparison to Hitler and Nazis, they are justifiably criticized and they apologize -- yet the comparisons continue. Perhaps that's because they don't truly appreciate the ramifications of what they're saying.

So, allow me to be perfectly blunt to avoid any further confusion. There can be no comparison. And, in my view, it matters little if the association is direct or through the back door. The attempt to annihilate an entire people is beyond such facile analogies and any attempt to do so sadly trivializes the act of genocide. And it is the trivialization that makes people so angry.

A government's policy on climate change or immigration or the manner in which it governs cannot be compared to those who perpetrated one of the worst crimes in all history. Godwin's rule is correct: the debate stops once Nazi parallels are invoked.

As for why people insist on making such comparisons, I'm not sure. Clearly, like Nazi swastikas painted on the walls of a synagogue, they have a certain perverse public relations value. Comparing a person or an issue to one of history's most demonic regimes and its leader is provocative to be sure, and it will make the news. Attempting to raise one's profile by invoking the name of Adolf Hitler may work in the short term, but in the long run, it will be seen for what it really is: a dismal attempt at self-promotion. And in the end, the real issue being advocated gets lost in the condemnation that inevitably ensues.

Whatever the rationalization, it has to stop. Trivializing Hitler and the Nazi regime is not only supremely dangerous and foolish, it is also insensitive and a slap in the face to all who suffered under that regime. It is time we begin to appreciate the beauty of the English language. According to U.S. author Paul JJ Payack, president of the Global Language Monitor, there are over 1,013,913 words in the English language, give or take. Surely advocates and lobbyists are creative enough to use all that richness properly and paint images that are worthy of the issue they espouse. Falling back on Hitler and the Nazis only tells us that they lack both imagination and sensitivity.

The Italian Garden That Overwhelms and Inspires

2012-09-08T07:52:38-04:00

Today when immigration and refugee issues are being used as a political football, perhaps a good news story of one immigrant family can help change attitudes.

The story of Tony Loschiavo's family is one such tale that does the heart and stomach a great deal of good.

Today Tony is best known as the gregarious and engaging owner of Paese, a wonderful Italian restaurant with locations in North York and downtown Toronto. He is also the mastermind behind one of Toronto's best known catering businesses L'EAT (pronounced Elite) that provides reasonably priced menus of exquisite delights for dinner parties and other functions.

Tony's story is not atypical of many other hardworking immigrants whose families made their way to Canada to begin anew. In the early 1960s the Loschiavo family packed their bags and left their home in Calabria Italy so that their children could have a better life in Canada.

Food was always a mainstay with the family so much so that Tony's mother, Nazzarena, packed some tomato seeds from her San Marzano tomato plants bringing a little bit of her old home to her new home in Canada.

Tony was the most driven. With a passion for both food and cars he went to work in various restaurants at night as a means by which to support himself and his family. During the day he attended George Harvey CI where he studied auto mechanics. He cooked for friends and relatives both of whom encouraged him to take this natural ability further and so he did. Combining both his love for cars and food he opened L'EAT, at first a small catering service that delivered good home-style food quickly to businesses in downtown Toronto.

As the catering business grew Tony also grew his love for food by opening his first restaurant after purchasing a small pizzeria on Bathurst Street just north of Wilson. Thus was born Paese. As Tony explained it to me "Paese "in Italian means "village"; "Paesanos" are people from the same village. Paese, now with two locations, has become that friendly place with Italo-Canadian charm where "Paesanos" could gather eat good food and feel welcome.

However, Tony wanted to up the food ante in a way that has never been seen here in Toronto. So he took the new generation of his mother's tomato seeds which she lovingly planted and grew all these years in her own backyard, bought a property a couple blocks from the Bathurst Paese and began a new venture. He ultimately hired an Executive Chef who also had a love of gardening.

Executive Chef Chris Palik was the perfect gardener for Tony's latest dream. A young and exuberant 40-year-old, Chris learned his vegetable gardening where he grew up in Prince Albert Saskatchewan. "We ate what we grew" he told me, "so we had to learn it well." Indeed he did. Studying his culinary craft at Vancouver Community College, Chris eventually made his way to Toronto where he is today considered one of Toronto's top chefs.

Tony's organic vegetable garden

Last week I had the pleasure along with a few other journalists to see exactly how they utilize their 3000 sq.ft garden in the ethnic enclave of the Bathurst manor to produce fresh food delights that make the palate dance with joy.

Author with Tony (left) and Chef Chris holding San Marzano tomatoes

Located a short walk from the Bathurst Paese, the organic garden overwhelms you at first site. With Toronto's short growing season work starts in May and the harvest produces by September. And there was plenty; peppers of all shapes and heat (more about that later), heirloom tomatoes from Tony's Mom's seeds, horse radish, beans, eggplants (white yellow and green), onions, zucchini, asparagus, lemon grass (a few sprigs in the lemon ice was delicious), broccoli, ramps, to name but a few.

horse radish

And planting such a garden is not without its problems. The earth in North York may be good to grow houses but not always the best for gardening. Much topsoil must be used to ensure good growing potential. Rain water is collected and used to augment irrigation and then there are the varmints. Groundhogs, squirrels and even possums know good vegetables when they smell them and chef Chris estimates that they lose close to one third of what they plant. This despite a ferocious teddy bear used as a scare-bear plunked in mid-garden.

Scare-Bear

We were able to savour many of the vegetables as part of a wonderful lunch that Tony's team served in this backyard. I was most intrigued by the pickled ramps, from the onion/garlic family a real delight and of course the peppers.

pickled ramps

I'm not talking about your common red or green peppers. I'm not even referring to what I thought were hot jalapeños. Naga ghost peppers are the hottest variety of peppers known to man. And they grow in Tony's garden. Peppers are measured for heat on what is known as the scoville scale. So for example the average jalapeño, which many of us require three cups of cold water if we bite into it, is measured at 30,000 units. A mere infant in comparison to the Naga pepper which weighs in at 900,000 units. Chris tells one story of a Sous-chef who tried to eat one small naga pepper and found himself in bed for days recuperating. It can be used but in small quantities mixed with many other ingredients to draw on its spice properly.

Naga Ghost Peppers

The meal that followed was superb. Beautifully prepared fresh organic greens, accompanied by beans, succulent tomatoes, and much more topped off by a whole chicken wrapped in Italian bread, simply amazing! Paese gets the benefit of the organic garden all through the summer.

scrumptious beans and zucchini

Chicken pain au lait -- whole bread wrapped chicken

Chef Chris put it best when he told me "I am one of the luckiest Chefs in the world to have this land to grow and use fresh vegetables in my restaurant". And Tony sums up both the food splendor and the immigrant experience explaining that his dream was "inspired in Italy but made in Canada."