Face Shtunk
I don’t need Facebook. I’m always running into high school “ghosts” anyhow.
A councilman — who had been in my high school physics class — introduced my band, Yiddishe Cup, at a suburban summer concert. I hadn’t seen him in years. He had talked a lot in physics class. I told the audience that.
At a gig in Rockford, Ill., a kid who used to do odd things in my bathroom (junior high) showed up. He’s a banker.
In Dallas, the star of my junior high’s football team stopped by for the show. He doesn’t know much about klezmer. He is one of eight children, the oldest son of a Polish-American milkman. Sealtest brand.. I used to tutor my friend in math just for the fun of it. I concocted tests and flunked him! Years later he wound up getting into medical school. Hah. (I didn’t. I want to be a doctor now, Mom. Honest.)
When Yiddishe Cup played in New York City, some high school buddies — the ones who used to sing “We’re Outta Here (Midwest)” — showed up at the gig. Back in the dayl these guys had worn buttons, mail-ordered from a Greenwich Village button shop: I’m a Plainclothes Hippie and Unbutton. These guys went east about a minute after graduation. I saw them again!
Face Shtunk.