Clarinetist David Asman and accordionist Steve Keen came to the MobileBooth tell a couple of stories and play a little Klezmer music.  Music is what brought these former East Coasters to Salt Lake City so it is fitting that they started their recording with a song from their current repertoire as the KlezBros: Ose Shalom!

“We started [the Klezbros] in 1993.” says David.  “Being here in Utah it’s an interesting place to be a Jew.  You’re really forced to look at your self in that regard in a secular way, in a religious way.  Ashkenazid Judaism is what I’m descended from and when I looked into it a little bit, found out what Klezmer music was, I just fell in love with it and wanted to do something with it. Somebody mentioned to me that you played accordion, and I remember calling you one day and saying ‘Would you like to take it out of the closet?’, so to speak.”

“And I literally did take it out of the closet.” says Steve. “In fact my wife said ‘What’s that thing?’

“She was talking about the accordion, I hope?” asks David.

“She didn’t even know it was there,” says Steve.  “For 15 years I think it sat in there.  She had no idea it was even in there!”

“And speaking of that, let’s play another tune!”

“My father used to swear that I was born with a book in my hand,” says Ken Sanders.  “I can’t remember a time that I didn’t like books and read books.  The earliest most powerful one that I remember specifically was from grade school, a book called The Shy Stegosaurus From Cricket Creek.”

Ken is an antiquarian bookseller.  His friend Scott Carrier interviewed him about his lifelong love of books.

“When I discovered old books instead of new books, I liked those better because they looked stranger, y’know, they looked old.  They smelled different.  The ones printed on really cheap pulp paper had a really kind of sharp, acrid smell to them.  If I went to class I’d just sit and read books.  I wasn’t disruptive, but I just would completely and utterly ignore the teachers.  I picked better books than they did.”

By seventh grade, Ken was already a serious collector.   He remembers that one beloved enabler of his habit was Pop, his grandfather.  “I begged Pop to take me to Bertrand Smith’s Acres of Books (in Long Beach, Calif.).  Pop was so patient.  He drove me there and he just let me loose in this store.   That’s when I bought a giant Folio Edition of The Raven by Poe with illustrations by Gustave Dore.  I paid seventeen dollars and fifty cents for that Raven.

“You knew you had a find or were you wondering if you were crazy?” asks Scott.

“I never wondered that,” says Ken.  “I was like, ‘Wow!  This is a find.  I gotta have this!’”

I have never laughed so hard about cancer.

When Dov Siporin was diagnosed at age 33 with stage 4 colon cancer he realized that his life would suddenly consist of lots of time spent bare-bottomed in a sterile hospital, being injected with poison. Interviewed by his father, Steve, Dov explained how instead of joining the masses of depressed patients and somber medical staff, he decided to have some fun. “If you make fun of something, it loses the power to scare you.” On days that Dov had radiation, he would ask his wife, Tara, to write a quote in marker on his behind. Quotes like “Does this radiation make my butt look big?” had nurses in stitches.

On St. Patricks’ Day, Dov asked his wife to write, “Go ahead and pinch me.” When he asked the nurse if she was going to pinch him he received a slap across the face. Shocked, Dov asked for an explanation, and she told him the quote read, “If Dov asks you to pinch him, please slap him.” On another occasion, a doctor told Dov his butt read, “Please remind Dov to take the garbage out.”

The pranks and jokes haven’t eliminated the pain and very real possibility of death. But the laughter between Dov and his wife, his parents, his nurses and doctors, has made everyone enjoy life, appreciate one another, and cope together. Steve told his son, “I wish you didn’t have cancer but it has brought out the best in you.” And Dov has cancer to thank for the realization that, “It’s the fact that we die that makes life sweet.”

This week, MobileBooth West said goodbye to Salinas, CA and headed inland towards the promise of the first-ever StoryCorps stop in Salt Lake City. On our way, we swung south through the desolate Mojave and glittering Las Vegas and then headed up north. By the time we pulled into Salt Lake City, the state’s famous snow was out to greet us.

The sun came out just in time for opening day and we were also greeted by our host station, KCPW, press, SLC mayor Ralph Becker (below) and most importantly, cupcakes. Check out great images of StoryCorps opening day from the local perspective here.

Our booth is parked in Washington Square–the heart of downtown, right across from Salt Lake’s inspiring central public library–much more than a place to house books, it is a real community gathering place where people meet for coffee, language exchange and public readings; kids run in the sun-dappled light under living trees in the children’s section and visitors take in the city’s signature mountain views from the rooftop patio.

Thanks to the library, within our first few days we heard the story of Melvin Grossman as told to his brand-new friend, Laurie Reed (below). They met one another at a recent StoryCorps volunteer gathering hosted by the Library. As Laurie puts it, she and Melvin have little in common–she comes from a long line of Western pioneers and he grew up on the streets of Brooklyn as the child of Polish Jewish immigrants. But as soon as they met, Laurie was eager to learn more so she invited him to make a StoryCorps recording with her to honor his family’s legacy as well as his own experiences.

We look forward to hearing more from family and friends old and new during our six-week stay in SLC.