COVID-19 – Page 3

Making a film during COVID

Kamil Whaley-Kalaora stars as the title character in Malka Martz-Oberlander’s David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah. (screenshot)

It was a rainy day near the beginning of the pandemic. Sourdough was in the oven, Zoom was new and fun and spirits were higher. That’s when I found out I’d won the Earl Parker Award and I’d get to make my film for the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival. Little did I know I would have to go through months of hurdles, Plan B ideas and cast my entire family to get my film made.

A few months prior, my mom had passed me the Jewish Independent and showed me the notice for a film award at the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival. At the time, I was co-directing a musical, directing a film and finishing my applications for universities, so I didn’t think much of it. But, I am very glad I eventually picked up that notice and applied to the competition because it changed the course of my path.

image - The Community Calendar announcement in the Jewish Independent about the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival’s Earl Parker Award — The Community Calendar announcement in the Jewish Independent about the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival’s Earl Parker Award.

Last year was tough in a thousand ways. The pandemic hit everyone differently and, no doubt, we will all have lifelong effects because of it. When I originally pitched my film, David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah, in 2020, I had a vision that could only have been actualized pre-pandemic. I adapted it and changed things to meet the constraints of the circumstances and I truly did my best to pull it off in a safe way for the entire cast and crew. One of the changes I had to make was to cast solely from within my bubble and community, which was not what I had originally planned to do.

screenshot - Malka Martz-Oberlander — Malka Martz-Oberlander *(screenshot)*

I normally cast my films through Vancouver Actor’s Guide, UBC ACTRA and Facebook film & TV pages, but, instead, I ended up casting my parents as two of the main characters. As much as they are incredibly charismatic and intelligent people, they’re both doctors, not actors the stature of a Leonardo DiCaprio. So, performing was a big challenge for them and, vice versa, for me directing them. That being said, it was a fantastic experience for me to learn how to produce a film under circumstances that many filmmakers haven’t had to face.

In the early stages, I had a few moments when I felt selfish and embarrassed to want to make films during a literal plague. How could I have the chutzpah to be making dumb little comedy films while millions of people have died and more are dying? Why should I worry if my lenses are going to work for a scene while people are saying goodbye to their loved ones on iPads?

But then it dawned on me just how much we rely on art and story for our own sanity. We tell our children stories from the moment they are born, and we offer and receive stories to our last day on earth. We humans are, at our core, storytelling creatures. In moments of darkness we turn, time and time again, to art to save us. We are drawn to an astonishing multitude of fictions – on pages, on stages and on screens; stories of murder, love, war, conspiracies; stories fictional and true.

We are obsessed with story, but our obsession runs deeper than we think. We can walk away from our books and our screens, but story is like gravity: an inescapable force field that influences everything, but is so omnipresent that we hardly notice it. We’re social creatures and, with the added challenge of isolation, art has become a tool for staying connected with one another.

I’m now finishing up my first year at film school, in Capilano University’s Motion Picture Arts Program, where I have been learning invaluable skills and refining my knowledge and abilities in writing, directing and producing. With the vaccination rollout well underway and more knowledge and experience of how to safely work together in-person, I am ready to see what’s next for film and storytelling. I hope you are, too.

My film David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah screened at the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival on May 2 and I will be speaking on a panel of past Earl Parker Award winners on May 9, 11 a.m., on Zoom (meeting ID 846 7697 0846). To view the film, visit jewishedmonton.org/festival-news; after the festival, it will be publicly available on Vimeo.

Malka Martz-Oberlander is a 19-year-old screenwriter, film and theatre director and actress, currently “squatting” at her parents’ house in Vancouver, the unceded territories of the Squamish, Tsleil-Waututh and Musqueam peoples. Her website is malkamo.wixsite.com/film. She thanks the Edmonton Jewish Film Festival and the Earl Parker Award for their kindness and generosity in making David Michael Frankel Feinstein-Goldberg and the Unbarmitzvah possible during such an unpredictable time for artists.

The magic behind kaytana

While Camp Miriam won’t be able to offer overnight camping sessions, it will once again be offering day camp experiences this summer. (photo from Camp Miriam)

I will never forget waking up in a puddle in the middle of the night, feeling water slowly dripping into my sleeping bag as I shivered and clenched my muscles, trying to maintain the tiniest shred of heat.

It was 2011, I was 14, and my kvutza (cabin group) was on a three-day hike that would take us through steep inclines and 30 kilometres of terrain. It poured every day and night, leaving us without a dry item of clothing by the first morning. We were wet, cold, blistered and exhausted. It was a miserable trip.

And we loved it.

On the final day, we emerged from the forest chanting a marching song and smiling with glee at what we had accomplished. To this day, I reminisce about this trip with that same giddy excitement.

And yet, I’ve always wondered, what allowed us to not only persevere, but to create a lifelong positive memory. Anyone who has spent time at Machaneh Miriam – the overnight Jewish summer camp on Gabriola Island – can attest to the magic each new summer conjures. The thing about magic is that we may not know how it works, but we know what it does. It’s what drove us forward, step by step through the mud with smiles and songs that summer. Everywhere you go at Miriam, you can feel the magic – from the building walls decorated with generations of camper art and poetry, to the dining hall filled with chanting and singing voices every lunch.

It’s the same magic that, last summer, propelled Miriam’s youth leadership to accomplish the seemingly impossible.

When the pandemic hit, these young leaders were several months into planning a six-week overnight summer camp on Gabriola. Not only did the pandemic erase months of hard work and preparation, it also posed a serious question: could camp’s magic exist outside of the island?

To most campers and staff, Miriam and Gabriola are inseparable. As the rosh (camp director), Marina Levy, said, “At Camp Miriam, we are connected to our community, to Gabriola and to our traditions.”

Envisioning a summer away from Gabriola was a daunting task. But, the tzevet (staff) rose to the occasion, creating not one, but three kaytanot (day camps) – one each in Vancouver, Victoria and Portland. By summer’s end, more than 200 campers, 60 staff and a whole bunch of parents resoundingly affirmed that camp’s magic can exist off of Gabriola.

To understand the importance of the kaytana, it is necessary to consider the context. At a time when campers had been confined to their homes and separated from their friends for months, the news that overnight camp was not happening came as a severe blow.

The immediate effect of the pandemic on kids’ mental health was profound. Research by SickKids hospital in Toronto showed that, in just the first three months of the lockdown, a majority of children showed a serious deterioration in their mental health.

According to Camp Miriam parents, the kaytana helped their kids overcome some of that stress. One parent said, “Last June, our daughter was really struggling with the impact of COVID on her life, it was significant. Camp Miriam’s summer camp in Vancouver brought her back to herself again. A combination of the social component, the programming and empowerment she felt, and the sense of purpose in her life helped her rediscover herself and revive herself.”

Another parent observed a change in her son after just one day. “I almost cried hearing him talk about it,” she said. “I think it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say it was a transformative experience.”

Counselor Rakeea Gordis said that, during the weekly Shabbat tradition where campers sit together and reflect on their week, “At least one, but usually up to five kids would say that they were devastated that today, Friday, was the last day of the kaytana for the week.”

So, how did the staff manifest the magic of overnight camp in day camps far from the quiet comfort of Gabriola? A huge amount of credit goes to the youth leadership who worked long days and then late into the night throughout the summer creating kishutim (decorations) for special days, planning peulot (educational activities) and even burying items for a treasure hunt the following day.

Financially, none of this would have been possible without the support of the camp’s community and the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, who stepped up at a time of extreme need, as well as the Grinspoon Foundation and the Heller Memorial Fund, who provided matching grants. It cost nearly three times as much to run the kaytana as to run the overnight camp.

So, perhaps, camp’s magic is not a complete mystery after all. As technical director Inbar Avrahami Saraf said, “[The kaytana] was an experiment, a proof of concept of the magic of machaneh, and how the magic is not in the physical space but in the chanichm [campers] and the tzevet and just the community that makes it so incredible.”

So, credit must be given to the force of will that the youth leaders and the wider Jewish community bring – the relentless push to build and dream; to create community and unforgettable experiences, whether they be on Gabriola Island, on a three-day hike in the pouring rain or in the midst of a pandemic.

“The magic of machaneh doesn’t just exist far away on an island, it exists where we choose to create it,” said Levy.

Unfortunately, once again Camp Miriam has had to cancel its overnight camp due to COVID-19, but, once again, the young staff are ready to create amazing kaytana experiences. To register for Miriam’s 2021 summer programs or to support the camp as it faces another challenging season, go to campmiriam.org.

Sasa Popovich is a writer and former Camp Miriam camper, counselor and technical director.

Holy jab a moving experience

We’re celebrating at our house. I’ve gotten my first AstraZeneca vaccination “jab.” I’ve got a sore arm and felt droopy afterwards, but I’m thrilled to have finally gotten access.

As a pragmatic, 40-something Gen X-er, I had to wait my turn. Then I rushed to get an appointment. In the Manitoba social media world, we heard others complain that the system was difficult to navigate. The deadpan reply from our cohort was something like, “Guess you’ve never had to get up early to try to register your kids for swim lessons.” In a place where resources like, say, vaccination or indoor pool swim lesson spots, are very limited, we’ve learned to negotiate systems that were not designed for our needs or to be welcoming.

This big event for 40-somethings in several Canadian provinces happened to coincide with the Torah portion of Acharei Mot-Kedoshim, Leviticus 16:1-20:27. This big double parashah (portion) covers a lot, including what it means to be holy. In some cases, it might mean “to be prepared.”

It’s also the portion that encourages us to “Love your neighbour as yourself” and Leviticus 19:34 reads, “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I the Lord am your God.”

The Torah is, sort of, a holiness how-to guide of its time, and some of the issues may no longer be everyday things for many. However, the pandemic forces us to be prepared for simple things like wearing a mask during a shopping outing. Add in more complex things, like obtaining access to that coveted vaccination, too. It’s interesting that the weekly parashah topics like preparation, holiness, loving neighbours and caring for strangers all came up at once.

The nurse who gave me my jab had worked in the COVID wards. She exuded calm as she went through her vaccine script. She made the moment feel monumental and holy while preparing me. When I thanked her, she said how great it was to be part of this effort to keep so many others healthy and safe after experiencing the suffering in the hospitals.

As I sat in the doctor’s waiting room for my 15 minutes after the jab, I thought about this. Masking up, getting vaccinated and social distancing are all ways that we show love for one another right now. Those actions are so powerful that I’m affronted and sad whenever someone demonstrates as an anti-masker, doesn’t wear a mask or even spits in public. Indeed, that means he doesn’t love his neighbour enough.

While I waited, it was a quiet. Yo-Yo Ma wasn’t serenading others on his cello in the clinic or anything like that. Instead, I turned and congratulated a stranger, a man who had also just gotten his shot. It was an oddly affirming moment. He had a spouse with an immune condition. Like me, he had kids learning at home. At first glance, I might have felt apprehensive chatting – he was heavily inked with tattoos and intimidating. Still, the love we both felt towards the universe for this opportunity and to those who also cared so much that we’d rushed to get vaccinated, was tender and transformative.

While I’d been able to get my shot, alas, Manitoba, and other parts of Canada seem to be quickly losing their battle to outrun the third wave. Vaccines can’t get into arms fast enough. Yet, as I read the news, there are also multiple reports of moments where people are taking care of strangers. In North Dakota, there’s now a pop-up Moderna vaccination site at a rest stop. They managed to vaccinate 62 truck drivers from Manitoba the first day. This was such a gift to our province, which hasn’t chosen to prioritize these essential workers.

In Montana, the Blackfeet Nation has invited Albertans to cross the border (with permission) to get vaccinated on their reservation. They were able to use up expiring vaccines on both strangers and Indigenous relatives who lived across the international border.

Many Jewish people have reported on social media that they recited the Shehecheyanu or the slightly more complicated “bathroom prayer,” which thanks G-d for the miraculous workings of our bodies. I uttered a silent prayer of my own, too.

It was also a chance to appreciate the kindness of strangers who looked after me. The doctor stuck his head in to ask if I had any questions. The nurse and I had a deep conversation – about illness, death, birth and our struggles as parents – in our few minutes together before and after the vaccine. Like so many who’ve been mostly social distancing and staying at home, these nurturing interactions have been few and far between this year.

I must admit, when we stream services on Shabbat at home, I’m not standing up much. I’m not on my tiptoes as we would in synagogue when we sing the Kedusha – the part where we say, “Holy, Holy,” and try to ease ourselves up closer to heaven and to the angels. Preparing oneself and trying to be holy is, for all of us, a process, but I felt just a little more prepared after what I experienced this week.

If you’re anxious about needles, don’t worry. My kids looked at my arm and I don’t have a “hole” there!

I feel like my vaccination experience captured a snapshot of how we can all strive to be more prepared. It’s an opportunity to love our neighbours, care for the stranger and, maybe, in the process, become a bit closer to heaven and more holy.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Where I’ve been this year

After listening to Dr. Betsy Stone during a community workshop called A Year of Upheaval: What has Trauma Done to our Bodies and our Brains?, I decided to take her advice and tell my story. According to Stone, “Healing requires storytelling … we tell our stories so we’ll understand our experience differently.”

The past 15 months have been a journey for all of us. Some more than others, but no one has not “traveled” during the pandemic. And, by travel, I mean change. Whether we’re brave enough (honest enough?) to admit it or not, we have all been transformed. Call it trauma, call it what you like. It’s all a matter of semantics. Not everyone is as vocal as I am, or as filled with anxiety about COVID, but no one comes out of this horrible shindig unscathed.

Whether your resilience lies in emotional strength or a feeling of invincibility, or whether you’re firmly entrenched in that big river in Egypt (denial), we all cope in our own ways. There is no one right way through this. You can’t go over it, you can’t go under it – you can only go through it. Putting our experience into words brings new life to it, new insights. Speaking it makes it even more real and, maybe, just maybe, easier to cope with.

So, where have I been this year? I wish I could answer that with geographic precision. What comes to mind is: home. And, occasionally, the pharmacy and grocery store, as well as walks close to home. While I hate to say that the pandemic has been my world, it’s hard to escape the reality of that pronouncement. I fully admit my obsession with the pandemic, my fear and my single-minded focus on how to stay healthy. I won’t apologize for it, or feel less-than. It is what it is.

That doesn’t mean to say that my fear has prevented me from seeing silver linings during this unparalleled time. There has definitely been more than one “there-must-be-a-pony” moment. The most important one being that my nephew and his wife had a baby boy near the start of the pandemic. It doesn’t get any better than that. In random order after that, I have thrown myself into the deep end of the pool with Torah classes and other religious learning. Next on my list is that I started on a life-changing medical treatment that makes my life much easier. I have made new friends and acquaintances through the numerous Zoom classes I attend nearly every day. I am exercising 100% more than I did pre-pandemic. I might sleep less, but my brain has expanded. In the good way. And that’s just the beginning.

All this is by way of saying that, while I wouldn’t award COVID first place in a popularity contest, it has had its bright spots. It has impacted my perspective on all things, in a way that nothing else has, to that degree. When I think about what’s important now, my pre-COVID list is almost laughable. I, like many others, have embraced the basics: health and safety, family, faith and trust.

When I think of the trajectory of this past 15 months, it’s hard to articulate. Or, more to the point, what our reactions have been. Have I learned to be more trusting, or more suspicious? Have I expanded my capacity for compassion, or have I become more selfish? Have I anchored my experiences in religious belief, or have I trusted in science? Have I given in to my fears, or have I conquered them? While I’ve always tended to lean towards the black and white, there really are no absolutes right now. There are, however, firm yeses and hard no’s. I am reconsidering everything I once was certain about. The $64,000 question is whether I will be able to integrate what I’ve learned and turn it into something positive when all this is over. Or, better yet, before all this is over. The jury is still out. But I’m hopeful.

I have become exponentially more grateful for the simple things: my devoted husband who is my perfect companion in life; that I have a loving and lovely family; that I have never had to worry about where my next meal will come from; that I live in a part of the world that has great doctors, easy access to medical care and all the outdoor green spaces you could ever ask for; and that I have mentors and friends. I could go on ad infinitum.

Too often, I see the clouds instead of the blue sky that’s right behind it. I see impediments where there don’t have to be any. Positivity is a steep learning curve for me. It’s funny that I used to consider myself an optimist. Since the pandemic, I’ve come to see how maybe-not-true that is. Not that I’m proud of it, it’s just the current reality. But I’m trying pointedly to turn that around. There are days where I see hope staring me in the face everywhere. Literally everywhere. Other days, it’s just fog and darkness. I know I’m hardly unique in this.

So, in truth, I have been lots of places this year. Mostly in my head. But some real places, too. Like a certain street in Shaughnessy that’s filled with huge trees, beautiful homes and no people walking about. A place where it’s safe for me to take off my face mask for a block or two. Until I see someone. I have also been to a place of sheer, unnamable joy, seeing my tiny great-nephew on WhatsApp video. I have discovered flowers I never knew existed, in areas I’d never walked before (despite being a native Vancouverite). I have traveled via Zoom to other countries, for learning and sometimes for pleasure. But pleasures that don’t involve a beach or a buffet. And I travel constantly in my dreams.

Every day of this pandemic, I have learned something. About myself, about others, about faith. That’s got to count for something, right? When we all heal from what Stone calls this “trauma,” we’re definitely going to come out of it changed. Whether that change is positive or negative, or a combination of both, is up to us entirely. My commitment to myself is that I’m going to try and lay the groundwork for an improved Shelley. A less anxious, more trusting, deliberately positive Shelley.

I guarantee you’ll still recognize me, though. I’ll be the one still wearing a facemask a year from now. Or maybe not.

Shelley Civkin is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

COVID and other challenges

Dr. Judith Moskowitz (photo from Judith Moskowitz)

Anxiety and stress can be debilitating even in the most normal of times, but, with COVID-19 and all that it encompasses, we have all been presented with a whole other level of challenges.

In this context, the Jewish Independent connected with Dr. Judith Moskowitz, a professor of medical social sciences at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, in Chicago. She is also the director of research for Northwestern’s Osher Centre for Integrative Medicine. Trained as a social psychologist, with expertise in stress and coping with emotions, Moskowitz started her career in the early 1990s, helping men caring for their partners suffering from AIDS.

“Before there were more effective treatments available, it was essentially a terminal illness,” she said. “Caring for a loved one with AIDS was really one of the most stressful events a human could experience.”

Initially, she said, “We’d ask them, ‘What is stressful about this?’ Then, we’d help them cope with it, really focusing in on the negative part the whole experience and, shortly after the start of the study, the participants started saying, ‘You’re not asking us about the good things in our lives’ … which surprised us, because we’re coming at it from a very much stress and coping way.

“So, we listened to them and started then asking, ‘OK, tell us something positive that happened in the last week.’ And, almost in every single interview, even if their partner had just died, they could talk about something positive … often something small … having to do with something else going on in their lives not necessarily directly related to their care-giving.”

This new perspective helped direct Moskowitz onto a path looking at the positive things within stressful life events, allowing positive emotions to be expressed along with the negative.

“This isn’t about pretending things aren’t happening,” she stressed. “Rather, it’s about knowing that, even when times are really dark and you may be experiencing a lot of negative emotions and a lot of stress – maybe even depression or anxiety – you also have the ability to experience positive emotions as well. So, if you can experience the positive alongside those negative emotions, you’ll be able to cope better.”

Moskowitz and her team put together a program that includes eight to 10 skills, depending on the target group, toward helping participants increase their daily experience of positive emotions – stopping to notice, savour and capitalize on those good aspects.

“When things are stressful, it can be hard to see the positive things going on,” said Moskowitz. “We help people realize there’s usually something positive happening … you just have to be able to notice it.

“Things might be really horrific, but your dog is sitting next to you, really loves you, and it’s very sweet. So, just taking a moment and petting your dog, and then maybe telling someone about it – that would be noticing something positive in your life and savouring or capitalizing on it,” she explained. “We’ve been able to show that people who learn these skills and then practise them have better emotional well-being. They’re less likely to be depressed. In some samples, we were seeing some physical health effects. So, through clinical trials, we showed that the program seems to be helpful.”

When COVID first hit, Moskowitz was inundated with questions about how to cope better with stresses associated with the pandemic. The bottom line is that these skills transcend any particular stressor and can help no matter what the situation.

“For COVID, my advice is the same as it is for coping with breast cancer, diabetes, depression, or being a high school student,” said Moskowitz. “Learn these skills, try them out, see which work for you and, then, keep doing them. It’s like a physical activity, something you need to keep on doing. You can’t just do it once … similar to gratitude, noticing the good things, being thankful … it doesn’t work for you to just be grateful once and then be done with it. You need to take it up as a habit, and that can help you cope with COVID-19 or adapt with whatever kind of life stress you’re facing.”

Moskowitz also teaches the importance of doing acts of kindness. The idea is that, when you do something nice for someone else, it helps you feel better, too. Such an act can be as simple as paying for the coffee of the person in line behind you. Or looking someone in the eye and thanking them, making them feel appreciated and seen. And there are many types of acts that can be done without the receiver knowing the kindness came from you, if you’d rather remain anonymous.

“Doing these acts helps you feel better in a situation where you might think, I’m suffering here, I’m having a really hard time … but, knowing you can do something to help someone else can help your own well-being,” said Moskowitz.

Another skill she pointed to is “positive reappraisal.” When something stressful happens, take a moment to reframe it or think about it in a way that makes it seem not so bad or even like it’s positive thing – find the good in it.

“Sometimes, it takes the form of actually learning something about yourself – like you find that you are stronger than you’d thought you were,” said Moskowitz. “My favourite positive reappraisal is, ‘Well, that could have been worse! It’s bad, but it could have been worse.’

“An extreme example of this happened when we were doing some work with a gun-violence prevention group here in Chicago, teaching them these skills. They work with young men who are at high risk of either being victims or perpetrators of gun violence. The people they work with often are involved in a shooting. [The group members] will talk about it and will say, ‘One of our clients was shot and is in the hospital, but he’s alive.’ Having one of your clients shot is pretty bad and very stressful, but they’re able to say, ‘You know what? It could have been worse. He could have died, but he’s still alive.’ So, that’s a very vivid example of positive reappraisal.”

Moskowitz stressed that there is no one technique that works better than all others. She said, with regard to various anxiety- and stress-reducing methods, it is very much a matter of what fits best for each individual in a particular circumstance.

For more information visit moskowitzlab.com.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.

חופשות מקומיות

הביקור בטופינו התפרש על פני לילה אחד

בפעמיים האחרונות כתבתי ארוכות על הטיול הטוב שעשיתי לוויקטוריה הבירה של מחוז בריטיש קולומביה. זאת בעידן הקוביד כאשר אי אפשר לטוס יותר לאירופה שאני אוהב אלה “רק” לטייל במחוז היפה שלנו.

לאחרונה הספקתי לבקר בשני מקומות בבריטיש קולומביה לראשונה מאז עברתי לקנדה לפני למעלה משש עשרה שנה. הראשון שלא היה מעניין במיוחד – היה לעיירה טופינו בקצה הרחוק (המערבי) של האי ונקובר והשני שהיה מאוד מעניין – היה העיר קולונה בעמק אוקנגן.

לטופינו טסתי במטוס הים שנוחת במים כך שפגשתי מעט נוסעים בטרמינלים הקטנים של ונקובר ושל טופינו. הטיסה לטופינו נמשכה שישים וחמש דקות ובמטוס הקטן מלבד הטייס היו עוד שתי נוסעות. הנוף מהמטוס שטס בגובה נמוך מרשים ביותר. תחילה רואים את פארק סנטלי ולאחר מכן את מי האוקיאנוס השקט השקטים בדרך לאי ונקובר. גם חציית האי מהצד המזרחי למערבי כדי להגיע לטופינו יפה ביותר.

טופינו היא עיירה קטנה שמונה בסך הכול כאלפיים תושבים. מרבית התיירים באים אליה כדי לגלוש בגלים הגבוהים של האוקיאנוס או לעשות ספורט אתגרי אחר. וכן לטייל ביערות הגשם ובסביבה.

בגלל מגפת הקוביד האיים של האינדיאנים שסמוכים לטופינו היו סגורים למטיילים ולכן נאצלתי להסתפק בטופינו הקטנה בלבד. בתור תייר שמחפש תרבות לא מצאתי הרבה לעצמי בטופינו. לאחר הנחיתה הלכתי ברגל בערך כרבע שעה למלון מאק הממוקם ברחוב הראשון בסמוך למים. המלון היה נחמד ונקי אך בגלל המגפה הקפטריה שלו הייתה סגורה ולכן אכלתי במסעדות בחוץ.

הביקור בטופינו התפרש על פני לילה אחד בלבד וטוב שכך מבחינתי כי לא מצאתי עניין בעיירה הקטנה והנידחת הזו. ירדתי לחוף הים הפראי וטיילתי להנאתי. לאחר מכן הסתובבתי במרכז העיירה הקטן ומצאתי קפה נחמד לאחר הצהריים. בחיפושי הנואשים אחר תרבות מצאתי את הגלריה של רועי הנרי ויקרס. מדובר באמן אינדיאני (בן שבעים וחמש כיום) שזכה להכרה ברחבי העולם ואף קיבל פרסים רבים. רכשתי ספר שמכיל את היצירות שלו אותו הבאתי כמתנה לבת זוגתי בוונקובר. לאחר הביקור בגלריה המעניינת חיפשתי מקום לארוחת ערב. מתברר שבערב בטופינו ישנן ארבע מסעדות פתוחות וחוץ מזה כל העיירה סגורה. לאחר הארוחה הסתובבתי קצת באזור ומצאתי שתושבי העיירה הולכים לישון מוקדם מאוד. אחרי שמונה בערב הכול חשוך וסגור.

למחרת בשעות הצהריים המוקדמות הייתי אמור לטוס בחזרה לוונקובר במטוס הימי אך בגלל הערפל הכבד הטיסה בוטלה לצערי. כיוון שבקו טופינו ונקובר יש רק טיסה יומית אחת של המטוס הימי הבנתי שלא אוכל באותו יום לעשות את הדרך חזרה עמו כאמור בגלל הערפל. בנוסף הייתה טיסה אחת בלבד של מטוס רגיל (מופעל על ידי חברת פיסיפיק קוסטל) אך היא כבר יצאה לכיוון ונקובר. לכן לא הייתה לי בררה אלה לחפש אוטובוס הביתה.

למזלי ברגע האחרון מצאתי אוטובוס בקו טופינו אל העיר נאיימו שבמזרח האי ונקובר. היה זה אוטובוס קטן והנסיעה נמשכה כארבע עשות תמימות. באמצע נאלצנו לעצור לחצי שעה כיוון שתיקנו את הכביש בין טופינו לננאיימו. לאחר מכן עצרנו למספר דקות לשתייה ושירותים בפורט אלברני ומשם הגענו במהירות יחסית לננאיימו. המעבורת עדיין לא עזבה את המעגן בנניאמו, כך שיכולתי לעלות עליה ולשוט בנוחות לעבר ווסט ונקובר. משם מצאתי אוטובוס מהיר לדאון טאון ונקובר והגעתי סוף סוף הביתה. אם כן הדרך חזרה נמשכה שעות מרובות עד שהגענו לוונקובר.

Model of resilience

As we have reveled in the summer-like weather of this extraordinary spring, we face, on the one hand, a looming overload of our health system as COVID variants lead to an especially worrisome wave, while, on the other hand, we enjoy a sense of huge optimism every time we see another friend’s vaccination selfie. There is a race between the spread of the virus and the distribution of the vaccine.

There will be time to reflect on the responses of governments around the world, but, for now, we thank again the medical professionals and other frontline workers, which in the circumstances includes retail and restaurant workers and anyone whose position puts them in front of the public so that the rest of us can live with comparative ease.

We are now in the second round of annual events held virtually. We have celebrated Passover with online seders two years in a row and likewise have marked simchas and solemn occasions through our devices. This is becoming something close to routine.

The past couple of weeks have been especially packed with virtual community events. It is remarkable how meaningful and moving ceremonies like Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) and Yom Hazikaron (Israel’s Memorial Day) can be even when mediated through technology. Joyous occasions like Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day) were different but delightful.

On Sunday, Jewish Family Services held a virtual grand opening and tour of their new food hub, dubbed the Kitchen, a centre for sustainable food, education and community-building around this most central of human necessities. (See story next issue.)

What was inspiring about the JFS event, in addition to the project itself, is the resolve and optimism demonstrated by the very act of launching the facility in the midst of a pandemic. It is a bit of wonderful audacity, or chutzpah, to start a new initiative like the Kitchen and to see it through to a physical opening, despite the challenges thrown at the organization by COVID.

Of course, there are countless similar examples, in our community and others, of people doggedly pursuing great causes in the face of the crisis we are in. There is the small miracle that this pandemic hit us at a time when we have the technology to see and talk to people worldwide in real time. But the technology is only as good as the people operating it. On a dime, schools, synagogues, arts and cultural institutions, education and advocacy agencies, as well as families, adapted as best they could under sometimes nearly impossible circumstances. The quality of so many of these efforts has been remarkable.

What makes things like the Kitchen so significant is that it was not an existing program that went virtual, but a fresh concept in community well-being that was envisioned and created. Sunday’s Chanukat Habayit was the culmination of that foundational work and the beginning of what should be decades of programs and services.

If there were a model of behaviour to inspire clients of Jewish Family Services, and all of us, that demonstration of resilience and determination in times of difficulty is an ideal one.

Counting the Omer at home

For university students or professors, like my husband, the end of term is coming. Some universities call this winter term, others say spring term. Even though I haven’t been in school for a long while, I still remember the feeling at the end. Many of my classmates were elated after they sat their last exam. They’d yell loudly after they left the exam hall, or go drinking or do something celebratory and crazy. I often had an entirely different experience.

Most of my coursework, in the humanities and social sciences, required writing papers instead. During the study week and the exam period that followed, I’d line up the due dates, create a calendar and plow through. Each paper would require its set of books, carefully piled up, with scraps of paper as bookmarks or long lists of online references. I’d check the professor’s requirements – five pages? 12? 20? – and sometimes crank out a paper every day or two.

In that era, the professors liked hard copies, so I’d print out my work, staple it, and trudge across campus, leaving it in a professor’s mailbox. Then, I’d walk home and, sometimes, I’d take a break from writing. Other times, I’d just start the next paper. When the last research paper was written and submitted, that was it. No fanfare. No yelling or parties or even shared experience with classmates. In some cases, by the time I finished writing, the dormitories would be emptying out. I’d feel hollow and exhausted, but, even while I was alone, I was triumphant. It was all finished. I could go home.

Real life isn’t a lot like the end of a semester. True, holidays end (buh-bye, Passover!! See ya next year!) and big work projects get turned in, but, many times, there’s no big completion marker, no hurrah. It’s a lot more like turning in those term papers. It’s a lot less like the group partying after exams.

Our triumphs and mile markers during the pandemic have been quieter, overall, for me – a lot like that feeling of turning in my research papers by myself. I cheer every time someone shows off their COVID vaccination information on social media. I’m in awe of what many have accomplished during this independent time in terms of learning new skills (sourdough, pottery, whatever) or in their career trajectory; again, mostly seen via social media. It’s sometimes hard to “see” oneself the same way, though, particularly when vaccinations are going so slowly.

Whlie I know, objectively, that many of us are accomplishing a ton, it’s also equally valid to do a reasonable job just staying afloat during such a crisis. Getting meals on the table, kids educated and – not to be forgotten – working are big accomplishments right now. As some are struggling with mental health, food or housing insecurity, it can be important to recognize how many of us are doing OK, and could potentially help someone else.

The Jewish calendar has really steered our household during this stay-home period. For instance, right now, we’re counting the Omer at home, for the first time ever. My kids did it in preschool, and I’ve been vaguely aware of it some years, but I certainly wasn’t raised with doing this at home.

What’s the Omer? It’s the verbal counting of the days between Passover and Shavuot. While we no longer bring a grain offering to the Temple in Jerusalem on Shavuot, we still measure this stretch between the holidays. The kabbalistic mystics added a level of meditative imagery, too, a way of preparing ourselves to mark the gift of the Torah to the Jewish people on Shavuot.

One of my twins is keen to cross days off the calendar. He and I are counting the Omer together. To remember, I’ve been writing the right number on a chalkboard and he and I turn to each other at some point and announce, “It’s the Xth day of the Omer!” Then we say, for instance, “NINE, NINE, NINE!” and laugh. But, in all seriousness, for us, it has become a way of keeping track of time. It’s an accomplishment, if not a divine mystical meditation.

I’m very much looking forward to being vaccinated – and I’m hoping to say the Shehecheyanu blessing (being grateful for having reached this moment and season). I can’t wait to feel, with the vaccination, that I’ve done all I can to cherish life, according to Jewish tradition, and be healthy for my family.

On the Jewish calendar, we’re looking forward to having a family barbeque on Lag b’Omer. Both 9-year-olds here are excited about their hot dogs and maybe getting to eat them outside.

It still feels like an absolutely uphill trudge in the snow, though. This is literal – we’re also in the midst of a big April snowstorm in Winnipeg. The plows are working outside my home as I write this. However, using this ancient system to count the days, or the Omer, both connects us to our past and helps us make incremental gains towards whatever is to come in our hopefully brighter, post-pandemic future.

Every year, we receive the Torah on Shavuot, and it’s something to celebrate, a milestone. Each moment, no matter how mundane, is something for which to feel grateful.

Many say that, when the pandemic is over, there will be a roaring ’20s feel, that people will party wildly in the streets. I suspect it’s going to be a lot more like the trickling sensation of writing and turning in one paper at a time, until I’d met all my undergraduate course load deadlines. Even so, I’m counting the days until I can feel relieved at the end, and celebrate with family, at home. Since no one knows when that end will be scheduled on any calendar, I’ll just keep counting the Omer, instead.

COVID’s impacts on mental health

(image from bastamanography)

Purim 2020, which took place in early March, brought with it added significance. For some, it represented the last time they gathered in a Jewish setting in person, outside the home. For others, it was the first “live” service to be canceled as a result of SARS-CoV-2. In the days that ensued, lives changed as the perils of the coronavirus became apparent. School, work and religious services all moved online; personal contact with friends and family became exceedingly limited; travel, for most people, ceased.

Among the societal issues compounded by the pandemic have been increased isolation, drug dependence, and food and job insecurity. Underlying these problems has been COVID-19’s effect on mental health, including within the local Jewish community. As a result, numerous groups have stepped up their efforts to help the most vulnerable, and all those who have been impacted by the pandemic. During the past weeks, as the first anniversary of COVID-19 came and went, the Jewish Independent spoke with several people at the forefront of handling the Greater Vancouver Jewish community’s response.

At Jewish Family Services (jfsvancouver.ca), efforts to tackle mental health issues have widened, as more people have been seeking the agency’s support. Early on, JFS opened a crisis line that runs seven days a week, from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. (604-588-5719 or [email protected], with the promise to respond within 24 hours).

“People are struggling, without a concrete end to the restrictions, and so demand for emotional support and learning different coping skills has surged. Our crisis line is always there for people who need immediate help and, for many community members, this is the easy way to connect with a counselor. If someone wants to remain anonymous, that is absolutely an option, we do not require a caller to identify themselves,” JFS chief executive officer Tanja Demajo told the Independent.

From its launch at the start of the pandemic to August 2020, the JFS Community Crisis Line received 955 calls, serving 494 individuals. Case workers spent 2,052 hours on the line. Additionally, 166 individuals accessed free programs offered by the JFS mental health and wellness team via telehealth and video conference – a 40% increase compared to pre-COVID times.

“Many are struggling with the added role of being a caregiver in the pandemic context, as well as dealing with their own emotions, so our workshops and support groups provide a community where people are able to vent, talk and support one another. We also connect people with friendly callers. These services have been a lifeline for many of our clients,” Demajo said.

A report released by the JFS client advisory committee last summer highlighted many ongoing concerns. One alarming quote from a client cited in the report reads, “COVID-19 has been depressing and frightening for me. My anxiety has been through the roof and I’ve had an increased number of panic attacks and migraines. My chronic health conditions have increased in severity and I have new ones. My nightmares and terrors have also increased.”

Prior to the pandemic, some JFS clients were already battling with mental health issues, often severe, which have been aggravated by the need to now cope with unaccustomed fears and anxieties. Some people, according to JFS, have refused to go outside, whether it be to the grocery store or outside for a walk. This problem is often felt by seniors, who, like everyone, need exercise and who confront serious health conditions such as heart disease, diabetes and high blood pressure.

Many housebound JFS clients depended on family and friends visiting for social and emotional connection before COVID hit and have been feeling deeply alone since the pandemic began. Irritability and anger are rising. Senior clients who were used to spending significant time with their grandchildren are missing them desperately. “I miss hugging my grandchildren,” is a common refrain.

Since mid-May of last year, there have been weekly depression and anxiety support group meetings with JFS’s mental health outreach therapist, Kevin Campbell. Run on Zoom, the 90-minute sessions teach coping skills and allow a safe place to talk and share. The group focuses on cognitive behavioural therapy and mindfulness techniques. JFS also has an active seniors caregivers support group led by Lily Shalev.

Not all COVID-19 developments in connection to mental health are grim, JFS notes. Due to technological developments, some of those experiencing isolation are able to access telehealth, work from home, get home deliveries and view a variety of educational and cultural offerings online, including many synagogue activities.

Jewish Addiction Community Services Vancouver (jacsvancouver.com), an organization that helps community members navigate the troubles of various substance abuse issues, has held one-on-one meetings on Zoom ever since COVID started.

“Clients seem to like this kind of individual counseling better, as it allows for greater intimacy, even though it is on Zoom,” said Shelley Karrel, manager of counseling and community education at JACS. “What people liked most about the group meeting was the getting together physically.”

To help those who would prefer to meet in person, Karrel has arranged for one-on-one socially distant coffee meetings. “What JACS has done is to make ourselves more available to someone when they want to talk, and to be able to schedule a meeting fairly quickly. As a registered clinical counselor, I am able to offer clients tools and exercises for managing their symptoms and for exploring the root causes when the issues of anxiety and depression are evident. Some of my clients are finding AA meetings helpful online. And, like with our clients, some are not using that medium for the same reason – it’s not personal enough.”

For ongoing support, JACS has a monthly email that lists many resources for people, if they want to reach out for specific help. JACS is also beginning a new program, Sustaining Recovery, that offers additional support in the form of a structured plan to help someone develop goals and be able to keep track of their progress. This plan, JACS finds, is very useful in creating accountability and support.

Inclusion services at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver (jccgv.com/inclusion) continues to provide a number of targeted social and recreational programs intended to engage, educate and provide meaningful lifelong learning opportunities, as well as engage individuals with diverse needs. The programs are rooted in Jewish values and the principles of social connection, community building and belonging.

“Social isolation is a prevalent issue for individuals with diverse abilities [and] this reality was exacerbated by the COVID-19 shutdown,” explained Leamore Cohen, coordinator of inclusion services. “These communities have been particularly impacted by the loneliness, uncertainty and economic hardships caused by the global pandemic, leaving these individuals at higher risk for numerous health challenges. The work we do in the inclusion services department creates the needed awareness of the individuals we support. But, now more than ever, community members are looking to us for routine and engagement at a time when they are most vulnerable.”

As people have settled into life with COVID-19, “these individuals continue to be shut in and vulnerable to mental health challenges,” she added. “In response, we offer a hybrid of virtual and in-person programming throughout the week that is both accessible and safe. In-person programs adhere to best COVID practices, and our virtual offerings allow for those who are unable to attend in person to access programming and community virtually.”

The Bagel Social Club, for example, met weekly in pre-COVID times as a means to increase avenues for integration, self-reliance and wellness. The program has shifted to weekly social clubs over Zoom and a weekly Relax and Just Breathe class, which includes gentle stretching, breathing exercises and visualizations.

As the lockdown took effect last year, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver (jewishvancouver.com) began convening multiple stakeholder groups to determine the pandemic’s impact on many aspects of Jewish communal life. A common thread during these discussions involved concerns about the impacts of increased social isolation on seniors, families and youth. Federation also hosted several webinars on mental health for community members, related to the impacts of COVID-19.

“Through this work, we were able to identify a number of key initiatives that we could support both financially and organizationally,” said Shelley Rivkin, vice-president of global and local engagement at Federation. “These include over $170,000 in emergency funds to Jewish Family Services, part of which was used to support the emergency care line; funds for Jewish Seniors Alliance to expand their peer support program; and the organization of several webinars with community psychologists directed toward young adults, families and teens.

“The Jewish Community Foundation, Federation’s endowment program, has also supported a number of projects to enable community agencies to undertake mental health initiatives,” she added. “Support for mental health issues for both agency employees and leaders was also identified as a priority for the community recovery task force when they launched their first grant round. It will continue to be highlighted as we move into the next grant round.”

Last December, youth workers voiced concern about the mental well-being of youth and young adults. Consequently, Federation hosted a roundtable with key leaders to ascertain how community members in this age range are faring, especially when faced with so many disappointments and cancellations over the past year. Based on these conversations and others, Federation will be collaborating with these agencies to develop a community mental health strategy for children and youth.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

‘ימים טובים חלק ב

במשך שנים נעשו עבודות נרחבות של שימור וטיפול בציינה טאון של וקיטוריה, וכנראה לעיריית ויקטוריה, לקהילה הסינית ולשאר התושבים זה חשוב מאוד.
(רוני רחמני)

כפי שציינתי ברשימה הקודמת לאחר שעברתי בדיקת קורונה שתוצאותיה היו שליליות, החלטתי לצאת סוף סוף לחופשה קצרה בעיר ויקטוריה – בירת מחוז בריטיש קולומביה.

לאחר הביקור בגלריית באטמן המעניינת יצאתי ביום שישי לסיור מודרך בסירה באזור נמל ויקטוריה. הסיור בסירה הקטנה (מאותו דגם של הסירות השטות בוונקובר – מהאי גרנוויל ואליו), כרוך בתשלום של שלושים ושניים דולר. לא זול כיוון שמדובר בסיור בן ארבעים וחמש דקות בלבד אך שווה כל דקה. המדריך המנוסה שהשיט את הסירה הסביר לעומק את ההיסטוריה של ויקטוריה, האינדיאנים שכרגיל היו המתיישבים הראשונים כאן, הבריטים, האמריקנים וכמובן הקנדים. מתברר שחברת הרכבות היא שבנתה את מלון אמפרס המפואר, שמנוהל כיום על ידי רשת פיירמונט היוקרתית. המלון נבנה על קרקע בוצית שיובשה וכך גם נוקה כל האזור שהיה מלא בפסולת רעילה ממפעלים תעשייתיים שונים. עוד מתברר שלאחרונה משפחת בוסה האיטלקית רכשה את מלון אמפרס במחיר זול במיוחד שעומד על כארבעים וחמישה מיליון דולר. לא ברור למדריך ולנו כיצד הם שילמו כל כך מעט על מבנה מפואר וגדול. מכל מקום בשלב זה רשת פיירמונט עדיין מנהלת את המלון ולא ידוע מה יקרה לאחר שיסתיים החוזה עמה. אגב משפחת בוסה מחזיקה גם בחברת בנייה שבונה ללא הפסק בוונקובר ובסביבה. המדריך הסביר כיצד אוניות ענק של קווי שייט שמפעילים קרוזים מפוארים, עוגנות בנמל וקיטוריה, לאחר שהגיעו מארה”ב והן בדרכן לאלסקה. בוונקובר קשה לאוניות הענקיות לעבור מתחת לגשר ליונס גייט בדרכן לעגינה בקנדה פלייס שבנמל ונקובר. לעומת זאת בנמל של ויקטוריה אין לאוניות שום מגבלות בגלל גודלן. לקראת סיום הסיור ראינו בתים צפים בהם גרים תושבים מקומיים וכן אזור תעשייתי באו עוגנות אוניות משא, שמובילות גרוטאות של מתכת למפעל סיאטל.

את הערב סיימתי בארוחה טובה במסעדת קקטוס שבעיר ובעידן הקוביד ישבנו בחוץ. כהרגלי אכלתי סלט בריא בתוספת נתחי עוף רזים. כוס יין אדום משובח תוצרת ארגנטינה הנעים את הזמן.

photo - Detail on building in Victoria's Chinatown — *(רוני רחמני)*

ביום שבת ארגנתי לעצמי שני סיורים מודרכים רגליים: הראשון – בציינה טאון המעניינת של ויקטוריה. בניגוד לוונקובר ציינה טאון בוויקטוריה נקייה להפליא (כמו זו של מונטריאול בקוויבק). הסיור היה מרתק ושמענו הסברים על הציינה טאון הראשונה בקנדה. הסינים הגיעו תחילה בעידן הבהלה לזהב. לאחר מכן פתחו מפעלים למכירת סם האופיום כאשר בשעתו זה היה חוקי. לאחר שהממשלה הקנדית קבעה שהתעסקות באופיום אינה חוקית עוד, הציינה טאון של ויקטוריה החלה לגסוס ואז התפתחה דווקא הציינה טאון של ונקובר. במשך שנים נעשו עבודות נרחבות של שימור וטיפול בציינה טאון של וקיטוריה, וכנראה לעיריית ויקטוריה, לקהילה הסינית ולשאר התושבים זה חשוב מאוד. לעומת זאת בוונקובר נראה שלאף אחד לא אכפת שציינה טאון המקומית גוססת, מלוכלכת, בתים נוטים להתפורר והומלסים רבים הפכו את הרחובות באזור לביתם הפרטי. פשוט מביש.

את הביקור המוצלח בוויקטוריה חתמתי בסיור מורדך נוסף והפעם בנושא ההיסטוריה העשירה של העיר. המדריך סיפר לנו על המלחמות המקומיות, השליטה הבריטית, ההתנגדות ולבסוף ההסכמה להצטרף לקנדה תוך הבטחה להקמת רשת פסי רכבת. שמענו בהפתעה כי לוויקטוריה היה גם צד אפל וחשוך בעיקר באותם ימים של תקופת הבהלה לזהב. רבים מהעובדים שנשכרו לביצוע המלאכה בזבזו את כספם על שתיית אלכוהול מרובה בעיר. אחרים מצאו להם נערות ליווי וחגגו עימן עד השעות המאוחרות של הלילה.