It shouldn’t surprise anyone that my favorite experiences with Jory have to do with music, laughter, and food. He would visit us in Cold Spring Harbor with his guitar in hand and play for hours. He took me to see Parliament Funk and we danced while Ed Bradley went up on stage and played tambourine. He taught me to polka and it was so exhilarating and so fun that I remember it still almost 45 years later  

 We went for great meals and even better gelato when he would visit in NYC or we would gather in the kitchen wherever we were. All of the cousins would gather and play Jory’s game of  “would you rather” when we visited in California or Dictionary in New York or Virginia  - laughing until we cried and staying up as late as we could. 

He will be missed. 

Such a beautiful and touching tribute Evan,

So many memories come flooding in. Ditto to all of yours as well Holly...

Here’s a few of mine

He was also a poet and a musician, he had a very long repertoire of folk music and obscure ethnic ditties he could play from memory. He was patient enough to teach me a few.

He also taught me how to light matches (way too young 😂) and how to make Mango sticky rice, mango salsa and a good mojito. He loved to travel. He loved great food and learned to cook many of his favorites, he knew his way around the restaurant scene and locations of poetry jams in multiple states. He had tickets to all the best concerts when he was writing reviews and took me with him sometimes.

He could sniff out the best ice cream and shipped some to me from his favorite place in Portland.

As a teenager he seemed fearless to me. He knew how to get into some very good trouble. Had hilarious stories, of how he got caught.

He went to England for three months and came home with a guitar and a British accent.

He was a committed father, after his divorce while his children were still young he moved multiple times and restarted his life in different states to live close to them. He was so proud of them, he loved traveling especially with them.

He made us laugh so much with his made up games and songs and great one liners. “Get a Map Moses!” made him laugh as much as it made us laugh. His laugh was so distinct.

While his life was far from easy, Jory was so much more than his struggles, he was brilliant, spiritual, lyrical, funny he could also be pretty annoying but not because he intended to be. For all his great knowledge on many subjects it was sometimes the little things that mystified him.

I have witnessed some of his low points, but most of my time with him were bright and light moments, surrounded by family, which he truly enjoyed. Always with a camera in hand long before we had cell phones to capture such moments. He loved interviewing all of us cousins, our parents, his parents, all the aunts and uncles, whom he called wise elders, to preserve a bit of family history.

I will miss his voice in our crowd. May he rest in peace.

Love to all of you,

deborah

Given our 10-year age difference, I was not even aware of many of the memories others have pricelessly shared. But here are a few of my great memories:

Jory was always incredibly creatively talented — an amazing musician and guitar player, singer/songwriter, drummer/ storyteller, and poet. And of course as a gifted writer/author, he was writing books and short stories up until the very end. In fact, just in the last couple of months before his death he was excited to share that a literary agent was interested in his most recent book.

Like others, he taught me to play guitar at a young age, and took me to buy my first used Martin guitar when I was probably 17, though I was never remotely as good as he was. Almost all the songs I could play were the ones he taught me, very patiently, by rote. He was always willing to bring out his guitar and play his songs for family and friends and anyone else willing to listen. I remember going with our parents to hear him play at various coffee houses and restaurants in Georgetown and other places around the DC Metro area.

He was able to play guitar and entertain family and friends up until Parkinson’s took away his dexterity, and he eventually sold his beloved vintage Martin. Though I never heard him do drumming and storytelling, I know he did this for many years with a friend of his.

He was a very talented potter at one point — he even taught a pottery class at my elementary school for a couple of days, which I was honored to take. I was so proud to have my big brother teaching my class.

He and I took an art class together through Arlington county one summer to try to learn how to draw (sadly, neither of us could master much more than stick figures).

Back before I could drive, when I had a morning and an afternoon paper route for two different papers, he would, when he was home, drive me along my route (even at 5 AM) when it was raining so I didn’t have to slog through the rain on my bicycle throwing papers on doorsteps.