Where are you originally from?
Jack is originally from Israel. He was born in Tel Aviv, and in 1974, when he was five years old, his family came to New York and settled in Brooklyn.
Funny coincidence: My mother grew up in Brooklyn only a few subway stops from where Jack grew up. Unlike Jack, she never lost her Brooklyn accent, which is how I got the name Jeffa. My given name is Jennifer, which translates to Jennifah in Brooklynese. My brother was two when my mom brought me home and told him, “This is yah new sistah, Jennifah.” He couldn’t handle all three syllables, so he shortened it to Jeffa.
I am a first-generation Portlander. I was born in St. Vincent, on the east side. I grew up going to Powell’s; some of my earliest memories are of sitting on the floor between the stacks, legs crossed with a book in my lap while people stepped over and around me.
Where did you meet?
We met in the children’s section of Powell’s on Hawthorne!
How long have you been together?
We met on May 14, 1999, and on Father’s Day (June 19, 1999) I told my dad I had met the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. We got married on August 11, 2000. This summer we will celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary.
What role does Powell’s play in your love story?
The long version of our tale is that
Shel Silverstein’s death brought us together. He died on May 10, 1999. I heard the tragic news the same day. I was devastated. I had always felt a very strong connection with Shel Silverstein, and when I learned of his death, I was inconsolable. I cried all week; I couldn’t seem to stop. I owned all of his books, so I took them out and spent the week looking through them. I found that I had left one of them overseas with a friend, and I decided that I had to go to Powell’s and replace the missing book immediately. That Friday after work, I walked down to Powell’s on Hawthorne to complete my mission.
I was in the children’s section, browsing the Shel Silverstein books, when I heard them. A little wisp of a girl, not more than two, was running around the stacks and giggling wildly, and a man in cargo shorts with a green sweater tied around his waist was chasing her. He was doing the slow motion run you do when you want a tiny child to think you just can’t catch her, and singing out, “I’m gonna getcha! I’m comin’! I’m gonna getcha!” And every time he did, she looked over her shoulder and let out a squeaky little shriek, and giggled even more, and kept on running. It was hard to tell which of them was having more fun. Cute. I went back to my browsing.
Suddenly, there he was, right next to me: “Hi! I see you’re looking at kids’ books. Do you have children?” Wow. No surreptitious glances, shy smiles, tentative hellos. Bam! He had apparently decided he wanted to talk to me, so why waste any time? “No,” I told him. “I don’t have kids of my own. I’m an elementary school teacher.” “Oh, cool! I have three kids.” (He later told me he felt it was important to get that information out there right away, and if I didn’t run screaming, that was a good sign that he could proceed.) He looked at the book in my hand and said, “Oh, Shel Silverstein? I love him!” He pulled a Silverstein book off the shelf in front of us and riffled through it until he found the poem he was looking for: “This one’s my favorite!” And he started reading the poem. Out loud. To me. Standing right there in the children’s section of Powell’s. The poem was “The Little Blue Engine.”
I was surprised into attentive silence. Who was this guy? What chutzpah! Who just comes up to a total stranger in a bookstore and starts reading them a poem aloud? It was quite an expressive rendition, too, and when he was done he looked up at me with an amused little smile. I couldn’t help but smile back, and he dove right into a friendly conversation that felt like the most natural interaction in the world. We must have talked for 45 minutes, about anything, everything, nothing. He was smart, and interesting, and earnest, and funny, and cute. The time just flew by.
Eventually his roommate and friend came looking for him (it was his roommate’s little girl he had been chasing), and it was time for him to go. He paused for only a beat, looked me right in the eyes, and said, “Will you go out with me?” I shouldn’t have been surprised by this time, but it still caught me a little off guard. In this age of, “We should hang out sometime!” or “You wanna maybe get some coffee or something?,” who actually comes right out and says, “Will you go out with me?” I was, once again, surprised into attentive silence. His gaze didn’t waver: patient, expectant, and hopeful, clear, open, and sure. My pause was also for only a beat before I said simply, “Yes. I will go out with you.” This guy was Different. I saw clearly, in that moment, that our story was meant to be more than just a Powell’s interlude.
Powell’s remains an integral part of our lives. An outing to Powell’s is a favorite activity for every member of our family. Those three kids Jack mentioned became my stepchildren, and we eventually had two more kids together. We went on numerous pilgrimages to Powell’s on Hawthorne for the express purpose of visiting the children’s section and regaling the three older kids with the tale of how we met. They started beating us to the punch line, running ahead of us to the shelf of Shel Silverstein books and shouting, “It all began right here!” When the two youngest were old enough, they made the pilgrimages as well, although these days, just for casual Powell’s trips, we’re more likely to visit the Cedar Hills Powell’s, as we live on the west side now.
What was the first thing you noticed about one another?
Jack: Her eyes. They’re twinkly — they twinkle! Her eyes and her smile.
Jeffa: He had the biggest, warmest, deepest brown eyes, and the sweetest smile. And my god, what chutzpah!
Birds of a feather, or opposites attract?
We are alike in many, many ways. We have so much in common, it creates a lovely sense of comfort and belonging. There are a few important ways in which we are total opposites, though. It all fits together beautifully, because those ways in which we differ so strongly end up being very complementary to one another, so we make excellent partners and we never grow bored. We still manage to surprise each other after all this time!
What’s the most romantic place in Portland?
For us, the most romantic place in Portland is Powell’s!
What’s the secret to a healthy relationship?
Jack: A lot of laughter. Authenticity.
Jeffa: Kindness and respect, always, in every possible interaction.
What do you most admire about each other?
Jack: Her spirit. Her indomitable spirit.
Jeffa: His boundless optimism in the face of every and any adversity.