Harold Nashman was the founder and inspiration for Camp Wahanowin. He realized his dream in 1955 and began a journey of creating “Friendships and Memories to Last a Lifetime” that changed the lives of thousands of campers and staff for 57 years. Harold’s commitment to providing the best possible experience to all campers at Wahanowin was evident every day of each summer and continued throughout the year. His positive energy and enthusiasm was contagious and you couldn’t help but feel good in his presence. Harold genuinely cared about everyone he came in contact with and sincerely loved Camp Wahanowin. This tribute page honours a truly great man and the incredible legacy he left behind. Harold Nashman died at the age of 84 on December 31st, 2011.
Eighty Year Old Man
Below is a video that Harold’s family made for him, in honour of his 80th bithday.
Audio Eulogies
Alon Nashman:
Bruce Nashman:
The Grandchildren:
Text Eulogies
Alon Nashman:
Our father liked making speeches, and he was very good at it. At every holiday meal, every simcha, at every milestone, after every camp show and Friday night service, before every Tea and Symphony concert, from opening day to closing banquet, from Hanukah to Halloween, at an Elie Weisel lecture to or an Aish HaTorah board meeting, round an intimate table or in a huge hall, Harold always found the words which celebrated the best of what was going on, which clarified the significance of the moment. He elevated each occasion with his magical words, and everyone involved, everyone in the room, felt taller, acknowledged, appreciated, and loved. Harold never made notes; just spoke off the top of his head. He always found the right words, weighty or light, laced with appropriate humour. So, you can understand… I wish he were here right now.
He was born in 1927, as Charlie Chaplin sang on screen for the first time. The Great Depression buffeted his formative years. At his bar mitzvah someone, a stranger, overheard his eloquent speech and decided to reward him with a pair of high end, pointy black shoes. The following summer, age 13, he hitch-hiked his way to Crystal Beach, where his mother Anne Nashman, known to many of us as Bubby Nash, had just opened a holiday rooming house. On the way, the car he was in had a terrible crash. Harold was flung out the window into a ditch. Uninjured, he picked himself up, took a bus the rest of the way to Crystal Lodge, walked in on his mother and cousins with his new shoes ruined and clothes torn and announced “I’m living a charmed life.” The year was 1940 so, in a sense, any Jew living in North America was fortunate. But Harold knew he was charmed and never lost a positive attitude to whatever life threw at him.
How many times were we at a critical juncture, with Harold’s health hanging in the balance? Kidney failure, heart attack, cirrhosis of the liver, diabetes, open-heart surgery, cancer… he beat them all. Three years ago he fell down the stairs, BROKE HIS NECK… and bounced back. Sitting at the Soldier’s Memorial Hospital with a brace around his neck he commented, “I hear high collars are in these days.” He seemed to be able to turn every OY into JOY. This was a man who wanted to live. Laura mentioned that she heard a rap song with the lyric “everyone dies….but not everyone lives.” Harold truly and fully lived.
So it was somehow shocking when he didn’t get up from a fall two weeks ago. The shock was twofold… that he was gone, and that we were suddenly, completely on our own. As Mark put it “there is no backstop now.” Dad was our anchor, our ballast; he was the wind in our sails. We always felt that he had our backs.
When his dad died Harold was left with a bankrupt business and gambling debts to pay off. To clear his father’s name, Harold, then an articling Law student jumped into the family business, sold pants up and down southern Ontario, and helped his darling sister Rina and her husband Saul Fishbein to reinvent Nash Pants as a successful operation. His brother Gerald also needed help so Harold moved part time to Barrie to tend to his store. At the same time he was social convener of Osgoode Hall Law School, and was planning the graduation dinner at the Royal York Hotel. He was away from his law work so much that when one of the staff from Osgoode called Harold’s articling firm to speak with him the secretary had never heard of Harold Nashman. He got into serious trouble and his own graduation was postponed by almost a year.
But that was the least of his troubles. A few years later struggling to keep a law practice alive while trying to run a brand new camp, Harold suffered a massive heart attack, at the age of 31. It was a huge scare…he spent 6 weeks in hospital, reading thick novels and listening to music, lying still under the guidance of doctors, and flirting with nurses. He emerged with his sunny attitude wedded to a total appreciation of each day. With his heart condition he figured he was living on borrowed time and everyday was a miracle.
Dad is the most positive person I have ever met. They say the Inuit have 100 words for snow. Well Harold seemed to have 100 words for wow: Fantaboraneous, Kowabunga, Fantabulous, Yikes Teamaroonee, Gagiglda! Long drives with him would be punctuated by “The view, the view!” Daily he would squeeze our mom exclaiming “What a gal!” Then he would often say, “It doesn’t get better than this!” When he ordered a bowl of soup or a cup of coffee it had to be hot enough to burn his mouth. Cold water had to be pulled directly from the freezer. He wanted to experience life in the extreme.
This positive, voracious attitude toward life made our father very attractive and a great leader. This was first evident in University where he took on top positions with his fraternity, with Hillel, at University College and in Law School. He and his buddies Irwin Pasternak and Ben Wise wrote shows for all of them. Hellsapoppin was a big hit on Broadway… they wrote Hillelzapoppin. Norman Jewison who went on to Hollywood fame directed them in the UC Follies, for which they wrote jokes like: I’d like to speak to the university president Sidley Smith. / A secretary answers, “Mr. Smith is not available at the moment… and the name is Sidney, Mr. Sidney Smith.” / The man says, “Wha? That’s what I said, diddle I?”
Harold was a famous party organizer. One year he put together an ANTI NEW YEARS party on Dec. 30. The other fraternaties had a lock on Dec. 31… and were scrambling to find dates. On the 30th there was no competition, his Pi Lam mates had their pick of girls to take, and they threw the biggest party of the season.
Harold’s leadership found full flowering at Camp Wahanowin. Showmanship, creativity and the ability to inspire large groups worked well for camping. As his law practice limped along, Bubby Nash scoured the papers for a site and found the former Bnei Brith Camp on Rama Rd. for sale. With her connections as a synagogue caterer and Harold’s programming and marketing skills they dove in to the process of filling the camp in just 4 months. Kids came … and a Canadian camping legacy was born.
Camp Wahanowin filled our minds and hearts for all the years of our growing up, and Lake Couchiching became a cherished friend. Around the dining room table we were preoccupied with Camp, and once or twice a year we’d circle the table endlessly, collating packages for the main or music camp programs. Dad instilled in us a work ethic based on the principle that you pitch in till the job is done. Or the “Jobbie” as he would say.
Thanks to Harold’s restless spirit Wahanowin was always at the forefront of innovation in camping. He instituted the Fine Arts Centre, then gymnastics and dance, farming, ropes, now trapeze and circus programs. The National Music Camp came to embrace Music Theatre and Jazz under Harold’s guidance. The camp has consistently offered the most amazing experiences, which have changed the lives of many people sitting here today.
Harold was the personality of Wahanowin. His version of “Allouette” with the giant leap at the end of the long “OOH”, “Those were the Days”, singsongs after dinner, and the campfires too. No one is lacking for something to do. Harold was our hero, a colossus. He would show up for the big baseball games and always knock one out of the park. He played tennis against Bobby Orr… and won! He, and of course Yetta, created a safe and loving environment in which young people could experiment, grow and become more than they dreamed was possible. Sometimes they fell in love, and many great marriages were born at Wahanowin. Sometimes they discovered they were good at something that set them on a life path. Like me. And Bruce who, with Patti, is carrying Harold’s vision of camping into the 21st century.
Inevitably, a camp director like Harold becomes a father figure to thousands. We children are happy to share him and his legacy with those of you who were nurtured mentored and inspired by Harold. He knew each one of you, sometimes better than you knew yourself, and he thrilled to each of your accomplishments. You are Harold’s children, even though we were privileged to have him, and Yetta, as full time parents.
Which brings me to one of the great love stories of all time. Harold met Yetta when she was junior staff at Camp Hiawatha and he was a visiting program director. He thought she was gorgeous, but it took him years to ask her out. In fact when he first contacted her after her arrival at U of T, it was to ask for another girl’s phone number. Finally he asked her on a date, to Harvey Freedman’s wedding in Hamilton. He took her to Niagara Falls afterwards to pick up something at her home and meet her parents, but before leaving the wedding he said to Ben Wise “I think this will be the girl.”
That was June. In July she came to visit Harold at camp. They were “getting interested” in each other, and he remembers sitting with her under a full moon, nice breeze off the lake at bunny beach, and making out… after curfew. Love blossomed… and then withered. In a fit of cold feet he took back the pearl necklace he had given her as an engagement present. Thankfully, it was not an irreparable mistake.
Yetta was a perfect zig to Harold’s zag. She pulled him into the serious, into a spiritual life, emotional depth. Harold had the vision, but Mom held the compassion, discipline and insight to pull their joint projects onto solid ground. When she had to fire a staff member they would thank her and leave peacefully. When it was up to Harold to fire someone they would end up with a promotion, and a raise. But most often his generous, positive approach would dissolve negativity, and problems that seemed so intractable would disappear.
This generosity of spirit spread to everyone in the family… Nancy and Hugo, Eddy and Ora, Rina and Saul, Carol and Marty in Rochester, and untold other relatives. He was an incredible brother to Rina and she loved him very much. Harold cared for his mother, Bubby Nash, with undying devotion, keeping her in good companionship and comfort at home, till her last days. He spoke to her everyday. Harold and Yetta had lifelong friends some of whom are here to tell the tale. It is hard to imagine how tight these friends were, from their late teens to late 80’s. Again Harold’s infectious joie de vivre made him a central pillar of their gatherings.
Mom passed away 11 years ago… something we never could have anticipated: How did health-compromised Harold outlive spiritually and physically healthy Yetta? Such is the mystery. The loss of Yetta could have sunk Harold but he continued to celebrate life, and begin another love story… and a wonderful denouement to his life. Bella Hull, vivacious and passionate, came into Harold’s life, and together they travelled and adventured all over the world. They made homes together, in Toronto, Florida, and most recently Orillia. Bella brought with her a whole new circle of friends and family, into which Harold was welcomed with open arms, and which he then adopted. We owe the last years of his life to Bella, whose constant companionship, through his ups and downs, was indispensible. In a way that almost out-positived Harold, she insisted that he could continue to live a vibrant life, even after breaking his neck or losing the use of his liver. And she was right. HE DID live well, up until his unfortunate fall the week before he died.
Dad as a parent exemplified unconditional love. As we chose our paths he imposed no judgment, he went with the flow. He accepted our spouses as children, and celebrated the arrival of each new grandchild, including most recently Madelyn, Danny and Frank’s remarkable daughter. For his 80th birthday Bella organized a small dinner party in Florida, which we kids all crashed, surprising and delighting Harold to his core. But he didn’t need flamboyant gestures to reach peaks of happiness. Seeing his grandkids playing together, or hearing about his children meeting for breakfast would give him such a rush of joy. Naches is the only word for it.
There are two more crucial aspects of Harold’s contribution, which I need to touch on: philanthropist and wise man.
In the past 30 or so years, almost to his own astonishment, Harold has emerged as a major fundraiser. In the early 80’s Bruce and his friend Eric Coopersmith spent a summer studying at Aish haTorah in Jerusalem and came back very motivated. So Harold showed up at a meeting to set up a Toronto branch, during which he and Harvey Hecker pointed out that they need an organizational structure with a President and Vice President if they hope to succeed. Within minutes Harvey was President and Harold his Vice and they were faced with a major fundraising challenge. No one had heard of Aish, and those who had were suspicious. So our dad developed a funding model which has been copied all over North America… a free community lecture, sponsored by donors. The first one featured Elie Weisel, who became something of a friend to Harold, and a frequent guest of Aish Toronto. Harold organized many campaigns, and more than that he contributed significant sums himself, much more than 10% of his income.
One day he confided in me: “The more I give away the more seems to come my way.” He never considered himself a macher, but he gave as if he was one. This applied to the building of the Village Shul, many projects in Israel, and eventually the establishment of the Yetta Nashman Jewish Family Institute, devoted to the betterment of Jewish families and to fostering the bonds within the family of Jews.
Harold played a central role in the development of the Paul Penna Downtown Jewish Day School, which our children attended. Without his confidence and generosity, the school may not have survived its’ early days. He was the guarantor of a major line of credit which was continually dipped into and Harold allowed himself to be the school’s first gala honouree, which provided the foundation for The Penna School’s annual fundraising. He never boasted of his involvement or imposed his will but was a pillar for the success of the school.
About 4 months before his death Harold made clear his intention to ensure the longevity of the Jewish Family Institute by setting up an endowment fund. As a permanent and final tribute to Yetta’s legacy, he intended that the endowment fund would continue the Institute’s excellent programming far into the future. The Jewish Family Institute model has been copied in other communities, and it is a reflection of Yetta’s , and indeed Harold’s, deepest values. The family has agreed that any donations in his honour will be applied to this important effort and Harold’s final request.
In the mid-1990’s, on one of Harold and Yetta’s many visits to Israel, he collapsed with another heart attack. Harold underwent a sextuple bypass surgery and we kids flew to Israel and took turns helping him with his convalescence.
I remember walking slowly around the hotel courtyard as he recalled his dreams when he was lying in the hospital. He told me that he saw his body hover over the earth from a great distance, and he looked down on this gorgeous planet, and could see the peoples and no borders between them, and no real reasons to separate themselves from each other. From his perspective, all the conflicts of the world made no sense, all the people were so precious.
Not long after, Harold and Alex Moses, his partner in composition, inseparable buddy and surrogate son, sat down together and wrote “The Power of Peace”…. an amazing song that became an anthem for CARE International.
I don’t know about your dad buy my dad co-wrote a song which was recorded by (among others…) Chris de Burgh Enrique Iglesias, Kenny Rogers, and Aretha Franklin, Or as our mom who was not versed in pop culture called her: Urethra Franklin.
The song features lyrics from Harold’s heart, including his concern for children.
“How many children must die
Not understanding how or why
Too many bombs each day
Innocent victims pay
A family of nations, that’s our goal
Reaching to touch each heart and soul
Upward and on no backward glance
There’s just one way, give peace a chance”
I am speaking now especially to the young people here today. Waha kids, grandchildren, I want you to hear this: Harold is still the wind in our sails, but he has left us to chart our own course. We have a map, a blueprint, in his shining example:
Live Life with outrageous generosity, unconditional love, a rollicking sense of humour, complete acceptance, penetrating wisdom, unending optimism.
He died two days after Hannukah, in the period when light is returning to the earth, the moon is waxing, and the days begin to lengthen toward summer. In the secular calendar he died on Dec. 31, New Year’s Eve.
For Harold Every Day Was A Cause For Celebration, Every Moment, Every Vista, the View the View! From your vantage point now, Dad, the view is expansive, never ending, and I’ll bet we all look pretty good. You would want us to organize a party, plan a program, pull off an incredible fundraising campaign, to continue upward and on, no backward glance. You would have us put a smile on our faces and look on the bright side.
You’d probably agree with Charlie Chaplin’s song:
“Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it’s breaking….
When there are clouds in the sky
you’ll get by.
If you smile through your pain and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You’ll see the sun come shining through
For you.
Light up your face with gladness,
Hide every trace of sadness.
Although a tear may be ever so near
That’s the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what’s the use of crying.
You’ll find that life is still worthwhile-
If you just smile.”
Bruce Nashman:
Welcome to the closing banquet.
The last night of each summer we have a closing banquet to celebrate everything that was accomplished at camp that year. This tradition was carried on in our family to celebrate the end of every holiday or special event. I think my dad loved this tradition because it involved three of his favourite things: camp, parties and food. But what Harold truly cherished about every closing banquet was being with his family and sharing so many special moments together.
And what would a closing banquet be without a speech and luckily; dad always had one ready to go. But it wasn’t just commentary or a summary; it was the ultimate, definitive depiction of whatever subject he was speaking about. Harold was always famous for his speeches and its one of the things I loved and admired about him. When it came to be my turn to take over for him at camp, I was nervous that I would never fill his shoes. Eventually, I became comfortable with my own style, but I’m glad he set the bar so high so I would never get complacent. Of course, I always had to remember the cardinal rule; never speak after Harold….or before. You couldn’t win either way.
I remember two years ago preparing my speech for Hannah and Rachel’s B’not Mitzvah. I spent weeks studying their parsha, using biblical references, telling great anecdotal stories and jokes with a couple of clever puns thrown in for good measure. After speaking and receiving a polite response from the crowd, I introduced dad to say a few words. He was in the midst of being diagnosed with liver disease and had been in and out of hospital several times. We weren’t sure if he would make it to the simcha, let alone speak…He rose, put down his cane and without a script or any notes delivered an eloquent, passionate and heartfelt address that brought tears to many eyes and everyone to their feet. The best part was when I went over to congratulate him and give him a kiss, he leaned into me like he did after every speech and whispered: “So, how’d I do Brucey?” I LOVED IT!
But Harold was not a one-dimensional guy; he was talented in so many areas because he fit everywhere. It didn’t matter if he was meeting the Prime Minister of Israel, Eli Wiesel or he was standing in the middle of a lumberyard negotiating a deal on beautiful new material for camp. He was comfortable with the Orthodox crowd, the secular crowd and everyone in between and was loved by all. You just felt good in his presence: “Is this place beautiful or is this place beautiful.” You were always left with a positive option and outcome.
Our Wahanowin slogan is: “Friendships and Memories to last a lifetime.” I have so many wonderful memories of my dad:
- Snowballs on the windows as he was off to work or to shlow shlides
- His captain’s hat
- Sonny boy
- Aloutté or singing in the rain
- The NHL (Nashman Hockey League)
- Kenucky Fried Chicken at Peasach: “It’s a secret recipe.”
- Family ski trips
- Da view, da view
- Driving in the car listening to the percussion section on the steering wheel and an entire marching band coming out of his mouth.
- His clinic on how to pick up girls
- That he always called me Brucey
- And of course, all his sayings. Harold created a language of sayings and clichés that so many of us can relate to:
“Yikes team”
“Kow-a-bunga”
“Fantaberaneous”
“Fruitcake”
“Pick, pick, pick”
“Jobbie” – you take a job that’s work and turn it into a jobbie that’s fun. He built a camp with this little suffix and we still use the term every summer.
And, his signature saying; “Gajiggleda.” This term of endearment has become a family and personal favourite. So much so that when I bought the camp from Harold and needed to set up a holding company, I named it ‘Gajiggleda Investments’ to honour my dad and I’m glad I did.
When Harold tuned 80, my siblings and I surprised dad by traveling to Florida and sang a song about his favourite word: A Gajiggleda. The lyrics are appropriate for today’s memorial and so is the original title: Unforgettable.
A gajiggleda, that’s what you are
A gajiggleda, makes you a star
From a tender age, it was quite clear
This funny word, was very dear
In our family, it’s plain to see
The gajiggleda, is quite a lad
Amazing Zaidy, and greatest dad
We are here today, to pay tribute to
The dad we love, and the one that who
Tells ones he loves, they’re gajiggledas too!
Going into the camping biz was seamless and easy because of the100% support and encouragement from my dad. I’ve heard many times that “it must be hard working with your dad,” but it never was and in fact his support and passion for camp just made my job easier. I was very proud of what he had accomplished and tried to make him proud of me by continuing his tradition and commitment to providing the best experience to every camper. His loss, though a tremendous personal setback, will only further my commitment to honour his legacy and make him proud knowing the camp is in capable hands. But the best part of working with my dad, was working with my dad. We shared so many magnificent moments, had fun and developed a special relationship as father and son, as well as partners in business. We never had an argument or even a major disagreement in over 25 years of working together.
All of us had a great relationship with dad but I am grateful mine had the added bonus of seeing him in action with campers, staff and parents at camp and throughout the year. And he was in action, contributing and relevant right till the end.
So why was this the end after so many illnesses and ailments over the past 55 years since his first heart attack? This was going to be his 60th summer as a camp director but for the first time, he was going into it without three key ingredients. Chris Lakiotis, camp chef, officially retired several years ago, but just completed his 50th summer at Wahanowin. John Yateman, site manager, who came out of retirement 2 years ago, officially retired once again 3 weeks ago after being part of the Wahanowin family for 35 years. And Lisa Freed, office manager, whose timing has always been impeccable, retired in October after 34 amazing years, but not before allowing Harold one more closing banquet and one more speech. These 119 years of combined service from just 3 people is a tribute to Harold in and of itself. So maybe he thought it was time to retire too and didn’t feel like fighting to beat the odds for the 10th or 12th time.
And maybe my mom had waited long enough after retiring way too early herself. The thought of them being reunited is somewhat comforting at this difficult time and it allows me to reflect on them as a couple again, and most importantly their greatest achievement: Us! I might be biased, but my parents produced an incredible family.
I am so proud and look up to each of my siblings for not only what they have accomplished but for who they are.
As a small example, when my dad fell and broke his hip two weeks ago, he called me early the next morning and coincidentally we were having one of our regular sibling breakfasts that day. I broke the news to everyone and despite the fact that all of us were going away on vacation, each of us interrupted or altered our plans to ensure he was with one of his kids in Florida from later that day until he died. It is such a privilege to be part of this group of five and I cherish all the family moments we’ve had together. This notion of family that I love so much is a direct result of my parents and I see it in action in every one of my siblings’ families as we use the wisdom we received to help raise the next generation, Harold and Yetta’s grandchildren.
Harold had an enormous impact on so many people but for me he was a mentor, role model, colleague, partner, but most of all, he was my dad. I love him, I’ll miss him and I’ll do my best to continue his legacy.
Over the next week they’ll be lots of talk about camp, we will celebrate Harold’s life and they’ll be plenty of food, but this was one closing banquet I knew I would never be ready for and wished would never come.
So how’d I do dad?
The Grandchildren
People generally think of a funeral as an ending, a goodbye, a form of closure.
But for us today, this ceremony is about welcoming the memory of a very dear camp-director, friend, brother, dad, and most importantly Zaidy.
Though he is no longer with us, his legacy will still live on in our hearts and be reflected in our actions.
Because our Zaidy taught us the true meaning of Menchlechness.
His happy-go-lucky nature and constant dedication to all that he believed in will never be forgotten.
Family was perhaps the most important part of Zaidy’s life. He shepped so much nuchus from us and called us all “gagigleda fruitcakes.”
Whenever we got together as a family, our Zaidy would always say what a pleasure it was to have all his grandchildren with him.
He inspired us to fulfill our potentials and remain committed to making the world a better place.
During a lifetime filled with laughter, love, and joy our Zaidy Harold was able to touch the lives of so many people.
We feel so privileged to have shared such a close and special bond with him. Every second with our Zaidy will be cherished for the rest of our lives.
