Jack Falk

Jack and I were frosh together in college: one percent of our 200-man, incoming class. I suspect he can recount embarrassing things that I did in my late teens, but was too drunk at the time to remember now. I remember that at one point, Jack grew his hair out into an afro and dyed it blond.

Decades later, I found Jack in Portland. Now, the hair's gray, and Jack has grown himself into the zinger and klarinet shpiler for Di Naye Kapelye, the world's greatest Klezmer band.

This week, when I went to visit my sisters in Portland, Jack and his wife Reva had us over for a Shabbes dinner. Reva's apricot chicken was just featured in the Portland Oregonian, so you can only imagine.

Reb Falk
Originally uploaded by goyishekop.

A couple of nights later, Uncle Yankl came over and sat in the kitchen with us. Jo's neighbor, Gary, brought over a metal clarinet that he'd found in a barn, missing a mouthpiece. Nan contributed the mouthpiece from my fourth-grade clarinet and a 40-year-old reed. Jo's husband, Tim, jury-rigged a way to hold the mouthpiece in the clarinet, and Jack attached the reed to the mouthpiece with a twist-tie.

Then we played Klezmer.

It was wonderful fun, even if Jo and I had no idea what we were doing. Don't criticize the talking dog for bad grammar, now.

If you're in Kaustinen, Finland, next week, go see Jack at the Kaustinen Folk Music festival.