Hebonics

In years gone by Jewish people were not welcomed in places like Scarsdale, in Westchester, or Garden City, on Long Island. Fahrblunzhet means lost, confused. In those years, a kosher butcher would not do very well in those areas.

Jewish comedians would take the prejudice that existed in those days, turn it around, and make a joke out of a sad situation.

I faintly remember Scarsdale, we drove through there once in a while.

I know it has become some sort of iconic place in time, and I presume, moved on from that.

We only lived in NYC one year, and took drives on Sundays. As I was eight in 1950, I remember only some images of the drives...

Diane, Yiddish seems to pick up stuff as its speakers move around. I'm not surprised that someone from Brooklyn would pronounce things differently from someone in the Bronx. But there's more to it than that.

My parents didn't always understand each other. My father's family was from Latvia. My mother's family from Russia and Lithuania. They pronounced words differently, and some of the vocabulary seemed to differ. Neighbors from Germany also pronounced things differently.

Another issue is that all of Yiddish as you see it written in English is transliteration. Yiddish is written in Hebrew. So what we're writing is what we hear in our mind's ear plus what we remember.

When I was looking through Rosten's book last night, I couldn't figure out what words he was talking about until I tried saying them out loud. His approach to spelling things is entirely different from mine. But once I read aloud the transliterations, I knew what he meant. More or less.

Oy, I'm getting a headache from this. I want things should be simple. Hah! Nothing is simple. Nothing, I tell ya.

The original Judeo-German Yiddish later split into Western (German) Yiddish and Eastern Yiddish. The latter in turn split into North-Eastern (Litvish) Yiddish, Central/Mid-Eastern (Polish/Galician) Yiddish, and South-Eastern (Ukrainian, Romanian) Yiddish.

Imteresting aside: early Yiddish litterature is taught both at the German language as well as at the Yiddish departments (or faculites) here.

Walter- Interesting. In the U.S., especially in the metropolitan areas, Yiddish had a small but vocal group of speakers. My grandparents spoke Yiddish, as well as strongly accented English.

My parents spoke Yiddish, but English was their primary language. They were first generation Americans, whose parents had come to the U.S. during that great wave of immigration during the early part of the 20th century. I really doubt whether many of the later descendents of those people speak the language at all.

Very interesting story about my father. He spoke perfect English with no accent. I discovered when I was older that he had spoken only Yiddish in the home, until he started first grade. So, I tend to look askance when I hear about later immigrant groups finding it so difficult to learn English.

Basically, I had to learn Yiddish as a means of "survival". My parents would speak the language in front of me and my brother, when they didn't want us to know what they were saying. Funny, they never realized that as they were speaking, we were learning.

I know a lot of Yiddish expressions, including various and sundry curses that my mother yelled at me in fits of pique, but I don't think that I could carry on a conversation in the language.

There was an early family show, which began in 1949, called, "The Goldbergs".

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0041027/

Gertrude Berg played Molly Goldberg (I think that this also belongs in my "old fart" thread ). They didn't speak Yiddish on the show, but had the Yiddish accent that was heard very commonly in New York at that time.

I remember being shocked when I once heard Gertrude Berg being interviewed. In reality, she spoke the "king's English".

http://www.koshernosh.com/dictiona.htm

Oy- This chochem thinks that he is a maven on Yiddish expressions. I think that he knows from goornisht, but maybe you will find it interesting. If you don't, so sue me! :wink:

For instance, for "marriage" he lists, VOS HOB ICH GEDAFT? Anyone who knows anything knows that VOS HOB ICH GEDAFT means, "So what did I need it for", which just happens to be, coincidentally, one of my grandmother's favorite expressions.

Phoenix, My background is the same as yours. Grandparents spoke Yiddish at home. Parents spoke both Yiddish and English, and they spoke Yiddish in my presence when they didn't want me to understand what was going on. They used to laugh that I complained, "Talk American." But it was from my grandparents and my parents that I picked up expressions. Never enough to carry on a conversation. Just expressions. What did I often hear? Bonditt and gesuntder in kupf.

Thanks, Walter, for the info. Never knew that.

BTW, I remember the Goldboigs.

Bonditt- I haven't heard that word in decades. But that appellation was most often given to my brother, not me!

I'm so embarrassed I could plotz. A friend read this whole thread and mentioned some things I didn't remember. So I went back and reread the whole shmear. I said some things in the latest incarnation that I already said the first time around.

I'm supposed to remember stuff from two years ago when I can't even remember stuff from two days ago? Nope. That's why I shoulda reread.

Sorry, bubbies.

What does she think that you are, some kind of an Einstein? Would she remember what you said to her a year ago?

Perhaps you should get the "Leksikon fun der jidiser literatur, prese un filologie" by Zalmen Reizen?

So, you are expecting us to remember already?

It's perfectlty alright, Roberta. I could happily read it all a third time!

Please explain "plotz" to me (again?). Is it rude or embarrassing to plotz?

I wrote what I thought plotz meant and then decided to look it up. I was wrong. So maybe I won't plotz. (According to Leo Rosten in The Joys of Yiddish, plotz has three meanings: (1) A place or a seat. (2) To split, to burst, to explode (as from pleasure). (3) To be aggravated beyond bearing, to be infuriated, to be outraged (as in he makes me so angry I could plotz). What did I think it meant? To fall down--ungracefully.

A poysin could faint from embarrassment with this hebonics business. Foist I repeat myself. Then I don't know what plotz means. Next thing you know I'll find out that my family wasn't Jewish.

Hmmmmm, that doesn't help, Roberta! Whatever it means, I feel pretty sure that I've done it, though. Often probably .... And that it wasn't a nice experience, either!

a poiysin could really enjoy this thread and lurk frequently without always saying hello - hiya - loving it!

There's one thing we haven't discussed. Gefulte fish. My grandma made the best. No argument. The best. She wouldn't give her recipe to anyone. A secret. But every Friday morning she went to the fish guy to get fresh fish. Then she ground it and put in it her secret ingredients. Then the smell of the cooking would fill the apartment and spill out into the hall so that you knew it was cooking before you got to the apartment.

If she was feeling energetic, she made the horseradish. So strong you could see fumes rising from the shissel as she brought it to the table.

I've tried the jars of gefulte fish in the supermarket. Not the same. Not even close.

Come to think of it, it doesn't matter that she didn't give out the recipe. Who would do all that work for a little mound of fish? A grandma. That's who.

My bubbie never made her owb gefilte fish. But the horseradish? Oy! And the mustard made right from the mustard powder? Oy-gevalt!

Raboida, the tsoris you go through trying to remember all the yiddish words, it is beyond most people. In fact, it is mechaye, I tell you. If they dare complain again, just tell them to Kush meer in toches. (that should refer to your ass, not mine )

Diane, Is machaye a mechiah? If so, I'm gonna have to give you private tutoring. However, the kush mir in tuches is used entirely appropriately. You've got some chutzpah to say who gets to kush my tuches. When my ass is involved, I'll decide who kushes and who doesn't. You've got some pisk on you, girlchik.