My parents, Manny and Esther Wrock, were among the generation of ‘greeners’ – newcomers to Canada, majority of whom survived the Holocaust. They arrived in a new country, with a heavy burden: they had no immediate surviving relatives, they were depleted of anything of value and they bo…
Our parents raised us in a home that exemplified values of family, community and giving. Some of our earliest memories included traditions of family time, particularly celebrating Jewish holidays together with extended family, sharing Friday night dinners and attending synagogue for Jewish h…
When I was three years old, my parents embarked on a yearlong exodus across eight countries in Asia. Although I was only a little girl, this trip changed the trajectory of my life. Since the most formative age, I’ve felt like an outsider looking in, my heart inscribed with an unquenchable …
There was never a time when the Holocaust was not part of my life. My parents, Ben and Esther Ingber z”l, my three maternal aunts, and everyone I met when we went to High Park on the weekends, were all Holocaust survivors. My parents were from Poland (Oshek and Staszów), and when the Nazi…
Community engagement wasn’t something that I grew up with. I was in my twenties when a family friend, active with State of Israel Bonds gave me a nudge to get involved. I dove in and quickly discovered that once you become involved with the organized community, new and interesting opportun…
