Costumes, Candy, and Creativity

There was nothing better than Halloween for Jory.  It combined two of his favorite activities:  being creative and eating candy.  Dressing up and trick-or-treating were a must from before he could walk through his entire adulthood. 

Halloween started early at our house.  I collected the clay pumpkins, cloth ghosts, and Halloween crafts that the boys made each year in school to decorate the house.  The wooden holiday wall-hanging in the family room was switched to a witch on her broomstick.  With the aroma of pumpkin bread, pies, and cookies wafting from the kitchen, the house smelled like Fall.  The boys teeter tottered over which costume they wanted, and I began to sew and gather everything needed to make each boy’s fantasy become their Halloween reality.

With older brother Darren as his guide, Jory began as a toddler tagging along at Laguna Road Elementary School in all the Halloween festivities.  Everyone, including teachers, principal, students and siblings arrived in costume, eager to see if they could recognize each other in masks, face paint, and disguises.  Jory was never the shy, fearful child, but rather the enthusiastic, jump-right-in kind of kid that marched right along in the costume parades.  He wanted to experience it all.

Halloween morning was always crazy.  Jory was up before dawn and dressed in his costume before anyone else in the family woke up.  He had already downed a bowl or two of Fruit Loops and a glass of orange juice.  

“I'm ready.  Can we paint my face now?”  implored Jory.  

I hadn't even had my coffee yet, but grabbed the face paint and makeup as we headed toward the bathroom.  I didn't allow masks, so faces were painted and costumes were buttoned, pinned, and sometimes taped on.  Then, grabbing lunches, we all piled into the car, barely making it to school before the morning bell rang.

School convened as usual and Jory skipped into his classroom just before attendance was taken.  He and his classmates were excited, silly, and fidgety.  The noise level of giggles, Wow!s, and Aarg!s were high in every classroom making instruction impossible, so classes were led to the playground for a school wide assembly.  Children, teachers, administrators, office staff, janitors, parents, grandparents, and younger siblings in costumes, stood anxiously around the perimeter of the blacktop.  Starting with kindergarten, classes marched around the basketball courts in full regalia.  Jory’s class joined the parade and he strutted along with a bit of added syncopation.

The parade continued until the last sixth grade class had its turn on the runway.  Then, the children returned to their classrooms, where school parties filled them with cupcakes, popcorn balls, candy corn, and apple juice.  For Jory, all those sweets were welcome triggers for hyperactivity and nonstop movement.  (Once I suggested that he choose a straight jacket for his costume as a service to his teachers, but he declined.).  Trying to refocus on academics, teachers required that costumes be put away, but the children still couldn't settle down.  Finally came recess, giving all the kids an opportunity to run around and dissipate their sugar highs.  Jory always hoped to be the first one out the door and he never stopped moving until it was time to come in.

After school, activities at home were focused on carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns.  Each kid drew a paper sketch of what he wanted on his pumpkin and waited anxiously for Daddy Sam to come home early from work.  Jory’s sketch was hastily scribbled on paper, as he was never proficient at holding a crayon.  He was also easily frustrated when tasks took too long.  

“I'm done.  When is Daddy coming home?” announced Jory.  Then he morphed into a tornado that sang and danced around the kitchen, alternately checking the refrigerator for snacks and the driveway for Daddy’s car.  

Darren, Shan, & Jory Carving Pumpkins

Newspapers were spread over the cement patio and a large bowl anchored them down, along with a sharp carving knife, three large scooping spoons, and a Sharpie.  The boys’ sketches were drawn on the pumpkins, Sam cut out the tops, and each boy commenced to dig into the soft space of his pumpkin, scooping out the seeds and delivering them into the bowl.  Slowly, but methodically, eyes, noses, and mouths were carved out making sure that there was enough space so that candlelight could illuminate the funny, scary, or traditional faces.  Finally, a candle was melted onto a tin can lid and carefully placed in the hollow of the pumpkin.  The bowl of pumpkin seeds was whisked off to the kitchen for roasting and future snacks for everyone except Jory, as he couldn't eat pumpkin seeds with his braces.  The pumpkin top was replaced a little off center so that it wouldn't shrink and fall inside.  Then, at last, the candle was lit and the jack-o-lanterns were proudly placed at our front door to welcome trick-or-treaters.  Sam rigged up speakers that broadcast eerie organ music blasting out of the darkened front bedroom windows to complete our efforts at Halloween ambiance.

Our neighborhood was mostly older folks with a sprinkling of families with young children.  But we were also a neighborhood where trick-or-treaters were imported, so every household was well armed with candy.  Before we unleashed our kids on the neighbors, we younger parents attempted to fill their bellies with hot dogs at a multi-family Halloween barbecue .  It was an attempt to outsmart the kids in an effort to decrease the amount of sugar consumed that day and night.  It worked for most of the kids, but not for Jory, who figured out the ruse.

“Don't eat too much,” he warned the other kids.  “Remember the candy we're going to get.”

As soon as it got dark, the dads chaperoned the kids at trick-or-treating while the moms handed out candy at homes.  When he was little, Jory carried a plastic pumpkin to hold his bounty; the pumpkin got larger as he grew taller.  As a teenager, the pumpkins just couldn't hold enough candy, so he and his buddies switched to pillowcases and trick-or-treated more extensively and without Dad.

Chili in her bride costume 

At our house, Grandma Edna and Grandpa Morris always joined us.  They usually helped by handing out the candy.  Actually, we all answered the door, including the dog in costume, because the fun was in seeing all the kids in their various disguises.  We bought bags and bags of candy, as there were lots and lots of kids coming door to door.  In fact, Grandpa Morris would say, “Just buy the good stuff, so we can eat the leftovers and have what we like.”  I always bought the good stuff.  

The Good Stuff

Trick-or-treat curfew was 9:00 PM, even for teenagers.  Front porch lights were turned off and children were expected to be at home inspecting their candy.  Excitement, exhaustion, and anticipation resonated throughout the family room.  The night’s haul was dumped out and sorted.  First, anything not commercially wrapped was discarded; next chocolate bars, hard candies, lollipops, coins, and miscellaneous treats like stickers or the annual toothbrush distributed by a neighborly dentist, were arranged in piles.  Jory immediately threw his toothbrush into the discard pile, but I rapidly tossed it back into his assortment.  He kept the stickers because they had bartering potential with little brother Shanon.  Then came the tax collectors.  Grandpa Morris and Daddy Sam stood tall over each boy’s stash, selecting their cut.  That was followed by offerings to Grandma Edna and Mommy. 

“That was good, now let's go on,” Jory would remark with relief.  Finally, serious bargaining and trading began between the brothers.  

The Night's Haul

“I'll trade you my big Hershey Bar for all of your mini Hershey Special Dark Chocolates,” offered Jory to Darren and Shanon.  Jory was allergic to milk, so milk chocolate bars were forbidden and dark chocolate was milk free.  As a kid, he focused upon candy quantity, not quality.  He traded Milky Ways for Smarties and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for Nerds.  No one wanted black licorice, so that went immediately to Grandpa Morris.  What was important to Jory was that his stash be large enough to last until next Halloween.  At last, candy was returned to plastic pumpkins and hauled away to bedrooms.  Of course, Jory's candy never lasted even the three weeks until Thanksgiving.  

We were aware that Jory ate as much milk chocolate as possible while trick-or-treating, and before having to face the rules of the house.  How did we know?  He was bouncing off the walls and his pumpkin was full of empty wrappers.  Jory’s mode of operation was always to flash his great smile and ask for forgiveness, never for permission.  November 1st was a regular day at school, except that Jory tucked candy into his backpack.  His poor teacher was the unintended victim.

Dressing up and trick-or-treating continued into high school and adulthood.  He attended Troy High School classes in fatigues and full camouflage face paint, which he learned to do by himself.  When the high school band performed at the football game on Halloween night, Jory played his trombone as a uniformed Air Force Academy cadet.  At CalArts, he was right at home because creative art students tended to dress up in elaborate costumes.  Lucas Arts was the same.  For the company Halloween party, he built a Jory sized popcorn box, which he filled with himself and bags of popcorn that he handed out as treats.  One Halloween in Fairfax, he dressed up as a Biblical figure and trick-or-treated throughout the neighborhoods.  Another year he trick-or-treated as a Viking.

“Jory,” I asked, “aren’t you a little too old for that?”

“Nope!” he responded.  “I’ll never be too old for Halloween.”

“Did people give you candy?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yep!  They just laughed and dumped a handful in my pillowcase.”

“I bet it was the first time they had a trick-or-treater with a beard.” I remarked.

We would never have guessed that Halloween initiated survival and business skills that Jory honed to perfection and skillfully applied during his lifetime.  He learned to be creative and barter or trade commodities for what he wanted or needed:  he built his recording studio by offering the townsfolk of Fairfax an hour of studio time for every hour of volunteer construction labor; during the economic business slump, he offered to record performances at local music venues in exchange for meals; and before his work permit was approved in Norway, he procured studio space by volunteering his sound expertise for the production of video games.   

Candy eating skills were never compromised, but rather enhanced when he discovered European dark chocolates and Lakka (Cloudberry Liqueur) filled chocolates.  Jory's adult pockets almost always had a couple of root beer barrel hard candies hidden for emergencies.  Always generous, he would gladly offer to share.  Candy was so important to Jory that he named his last business venture Lollipop Audio, with a nod to two of his favorites:  See’s lollipops and Tootsie Roll Pops.  

We learned that parents can unknowingly provide silly little opportunities for their children that can result in surprisingly useful skills that last throughout their child’s lifetime.

COMMENTS:  

Please send comments via email to Jorysmother@gmail.com

Elaine

Well I guess my children were terribly deprived since Halloween was the absolute worst American holiday for me. I was so impressed how you were able to take the holiday of Halloween and turn it into something very special for your boys. You are so creative and you turned the holiday into an opportunity for discovering the boys artistic and drama potentials. Yes, my children went trick or treating but I never was able to use the holiday as a learning and creative experience for them.  I always viewed the holiday as a pagan one and never saw the potential that you were able to see in it. 

Happy Grandma
Love reading the stories!! And Jory was right, one is never too old for halloween/trick or treating ♡ 

Anne

Your story was so typically Jory!  I loved it!

© 2017  Leslye J. Prum.  All Rights Reserved.

What's In A Name?

1 Year Old Jory

Giving Jory a name was the beginning of many important and difficult joys and obligations of being his parents.  It was daunting because his name would be attached to him throughout his entire life.  We needed a 2 syllable first name and a 1 syllable middle name to complement Prum, our 1 syllable surname.  We wanted a name that was unique, yet not weird; one that was easy to spell, not complicated; and short enough that it would not be a pain when constantly filling out forms and applications.  We wanted him to be the only person to respond when his teachers' called his name and we insisted upon a name that didn't have a nickname.  With our list of potentials, we avoided names that were common, traditional, trendy, old fashioned, or popular.  It was easy to eliminate names of people we had known who were too loud, too obnoxious, too lazy, too boring or troublesome.  Names listed in baby naming books seemed conventional.

We chose to follow our Jewish traditions of naming both in Hebrew and English, and naming after a beloved, but deceased, family member in order to perpetuate that person's memory.  Fortunately for us, all family members in both of our families had namesakes, so we felt free to select names of our choice and creation.  We considered names in English, Hebrew, and Spanish, settling on Jory Kyle:  Jory, a name we made up, and Kyle, a more "playing it safe" name that would give him an alternative if he didn't like Jory.  In Hebrew, we chose יורא כליל (Yorah K'lil), a light that radiates from within, and decided to name him after the children who perished tragically in the Holocaust, leaving no survivors to remember them.  How ironic, as Jory personified his name as a guiding light to those he knew, yet left no wife or children to remember him when he died tragically at 41 years old.

What we didn't think about was that Sam's family, being both Spanish and Yiddish speaking, would call shortly after Jory's birth to ask, "What kind of a name is "Horry Kileh?"  Pronounced by Mexicans and translated into Yiddish, a kileh is a hernia and a horry one sounded simply horrible.  In addition, Jory with a J, was almost impossible for them to pronounce.  It turned out that others along the way would also have pronunciation problems with his name and he learned to respond to Jury, Yury, Joey, Jordy, and Jordan.

Jory's First Day of 1st Grade

In first grade, his teacher banned nicknames, demanding that all her students be called by their given names.  His girlfriend Tomi reverted to Elizabeth, Bobby became Robert, and Jory was still Jory.  The kids made fun of him as being the kid with the nickname, even though he kept insisting that his name was really Jory not Jordan.  This teasing kept up through first and second grades, so in third grade, his teacher called us the first day of school asking, "Jory says that he wants to go by Kyle.  Is that ok?" 

"Sure," I responded.  "We named him Kyle as well."

The night before he began seventh grade, Kyle announced at dinner that he was now back to being Jory. 

"Why?"  I asked.

"I like being Jory and the kids have finally forgotten all that nickname stuff," he responded. 

Jory did like his name and he was just as unique, a one of a kind person.  He went through school being the only Jory in his class and school, and celebrated his nonconformist name and personality with a huge smile, a silly wave, and a "Howdy, I'm Jory!"  He was secure within himself and proceeded happily through life as a free spirit.

When Sam brought home the first Macintosh 512, Jory was in heaven.  He was curious and intuitive, learning how to navigate the computer and put it to use.  Jory's computer skills seemed limitless and in no time, to our chagrin, he was taking apart computers and putting them back together again.  He became the family guru, teaching us all new things that could be done with a computer.  With access to the Internet, his creativity soared.  One day he announced that he had created a website for himself.  He had acquired the domain name of jory.org and had set out to find other people named Jory.  Soon he had assembled a long list of people from all over the world who had joined his webpage by listing their name, how it was spelled, and how their parents chose that name for them.  One Jory wrote that his parents eliminated vowels and consonants until all that was left was J-O-R-Y.

Jory Vinikour at the harpsichord.

From that list, two Jorys stand out and remained in touch with him throughout his life.  The first was Jory Vinikour, a musician, like himself.  That Jory is a concert harpsichordist and an international conductor of classical music and opera.  The two Jorys would get together whenever they could.  The last time was in November, 2015, when Jory Vinikour was conducting an opera in Bergen and Jory Prum came from Oslo to attend his performance.

Joryville Park in Oregon

The second Jory is not one person, but a whole family with the surname Jory.  The family consisted of pioneers who crossed the U.S. in covered wagons along the Oregon Trail to settle in the Willamette Valley in Oregon in the late 1800s.  There they flourished as farmers and ranchers.

Someone in the family signed up on Jory's webpage and a wonderful relationship sprouted.  They invited Jory to the Jory family reunion in Joryville Park.  When he told us that he was going, we thought that he was crazy, but he went anyway and was welcomed by the family.  They met in the park, took him into their homes, and fed him.  He described how multi-generations of Jorys gathered, all strangers to him.  With his broad grin and silly wave, and customary "Howdy," he met them all. 

"What's your name?" they asked.

"Jory," he replied.

"We know that," they responded, "we're all Jorys, but what's your name?"

Jory Pioneer Cemetery Monument

They accepted him into their fold and from then on, he returned every time the Jory Family gathered for a reunion.  At one homecoming, he was elected to the Jory Family Association Board of Trustees, which governs the historic Jory Pioneer Cemetery.  Among the graves, are the grandparents of 1930-60's actor Victor Jory.

Jory at Jorplace

Jory Coastal Syrah Wine

In his travels, he discovered the Jory Winery in Los Gatos, California.  He visited and bought a case of Jory labeled Coastal Syrah, which be brought as gifts to friends when invited to dinner.  Wherever he went, Jory was thrilled to find signs of his name.  He proudly took photos and posted them on Facebook.

COMMENTS:  

Please send comments via email to Jorysmother@gmail.com

Jory K. Prum 

http://articles.latimes.com/1998/jun/28/magazine/tm-64194

June 28, 1998

  

I've gotten my fair share of teasing as a result of my name--"Jory-Pory" and such--but I've always been glad to have an unusual name. In fact, while most of the kids I grew up with were named Mike, Steven or Lori (with one spelling or another for "individualism"), I was quite content not to be one of them.      Jory K. Prum

Jory Vinikour

It's funny, of course, how irritated I was to have a "different" name as a kid - and a name chosen only because my father heard it somewhere and liked it - but how I have enjoyed having a name that is not so everyday as an adult. Obviously, your Jory and I delighted in getting to go out with a group of friends to heighten a real sense of Jory-ness.

I am quite sure that your wonderful Jory found me. I think he had a "Jory" page. We found that we had a lot in common, and we became very good friends. He was enormously supportive of my career, and I got to hear about his exciting projects nearly two years ago in Norway, where I saw Jory several times over my two month stay.

I am heartbroken to learn of the passing of my dear friend, Jory Prum. A wonderful guy, one of a kind, as comfortable with my opera friends as he was in the heavy metal scene.  Sending you consolations. I can't believe that I am mourning this great guy - we were hanging out in Bergen, Norway just months ago. I got him opera tickets (he loved it). He had such great projects coming. Everybody loved him.

Your wonderful son is constantly in my thoughts. My heart goes out to you, Leslye and Sam. I just can't believe that this wonderful and vivid person, the embodiment of kindness and creativity, is gone. . . . It goes without saying that your son's memory burns bright in my heart. He was a wonderful man, loved by all who met him.

Michelle Jory

Dear Family and Friends: please see information below regarding the services and contributions in memory of our good friend, Jory Prum.  Many of us remember Jory from our reunions.  The brilliant sound engineer from California, Jory only by first name.  Found by accident, he embraced our invitation to come to our reunions, serve on our Association Board. Many friendships were made with him in Joryville Park and continued up to his too early passing.  I encourage any of you to extend a note to his family to let them know what he meant to ours, share photos and memories.  If you are more comfortable including your sentiment with others, I am happy to pass that along, just send me a note.  Now is the time to remember this kind and very funny man fondly.

Jory Hill Rd. leading to Joryville Park

I met this wonderful man many years ago when he first came to our Jory Family Reunion, with a bottle of Jory wine to share.  His stories, his humor, his easy way with all of us made him a hit and we never let him go.  He even agreed to serve on our Board --and you know how busy he is--making time in his life for our conference calls and emails, our endlessly infuriating issues. 

He told me once that he was honored to be considered a Jory.  He thought it was cool to be able to trace our roots, have a place uniquely ours, and secretly, I think he loved that everything already had his name on it.  We were proud to call him one of our own.  He is so greatly missed.

Jory walked with me through our park once, speaking so lovingly of his own family.  Thank you for bringing him to this world, raising him, sharing him with all of us.  Please consider yourselves our family, too.  Come visit the people and the place that loved your son, too.

Madeline

I just read and loved your blog. I can relate to having a unique name. My name is more popular now, but growing up, I too was called a lot of different names. I really enjoyed getting to know Jory in your blog and I look forward to reading future blogs. I know there's a wonderful story to be told. Thank you for giving us all the opportunity to know Jory better.

Melissa 

What a beautiful and generous way to honor your son, and give us, his adoring fans (friends), Jory Prum stories to hold in our hearts! I had totally forgotten about his adventures to Oregon, for the gathering of all Jory's! I can hear his voice in your words.

Vicki

I think of him often and it is always bittersweet. The memory of his soul and creative spark is what I will always keep close to my heart.  The sparkle in his eyes and the way they would squint because his smile took up so much real estate.  

Martha

Joryville is in Salem, Oregon about 45 minutes from Portland. We will have to visit that place soon.

Veronica 

Somehow in all the pondering of selecting a unique name for Jory you both imprinted in this name the spirit and soul of a uniquely and free spirited human being who was loved by many.  As a Spanish speaker, I was amused and understood the new twist given to Jory's name.

Tammie 

Thank you for writing and sharing this.  It's nice to close the loop and understand how Jory's name evolved over the years.  I had never understood the "why" behind his change name early in life, nor his decision to go back to Jory after some years.

Elizabeth

I make an appearance! That was an unexpected treat. I have a student named Jori right now. Every time I see him (including today!), I think of Jory and smile. (I have the same reaction when I see our shared spirit Muppet Cookie Monster.)

Erin
This was a pleasure to read but also heart wrenching to know he's no longer with us. I met Jory as we commenced 7th grade. Must have been when he reverted back to "Jory." 

© 2017  Leslye J. Prum.  All Rights Reserved.