As a Canadian, my 'mygration' story is not unusual – a mix of different places and several unknowns. For a start, I know a lot more about my mother’s side than my father’s. The father of my grandma arrived in Canada as a young child, and his family had left Russia because antisemitism was (once again) on the rise. The story goes that my great-grandfather was whipped in the face by a policeman on horseback, leaving a permanent scar under one eye. This was the final straw, pushing the family to le...