By Joel H. Cohen
NEW YORK — Some of us get a big kick when Yiddish makes it to a non-Jewish part of our culture, and it just recently happened again — this time in what, at least to me, was an unlikely and unexpected venue.
The event was the latest Scripps National Spelling Bee, which had the unparalleled ending of a tie among eight contestants because the bee-keepers were eventually at a loss for words. It took place at the end of May.
Ordinarily, I admit, I would have had only passing interest, because — full disclosure — spelling bees are something I’ve long pooh-poohed [as opposed to the mandatory addition of three “poohs” in sequence after a compliment, to avert the evil eye, as in “shaineh punim (pretty face), pooh, pooh, pooh.”]
I was never a fan of spelling bees, on two major counts: first, they present their contestants, usually youngsters, with the most obscure words, locutions (?) that they’re unlikely ever to see, read or hear again in their lifetime.
And second, no two contestants get the same word to spell. A fairer way would be to put competitors into isolation booths, while one contestant is given a word to spell; and then repeat the process, one competitor at a time.
Admittedly,the idea is unwieldy, but fair. Like life, in a way.
Some time back, this column applauded the flowering of Yiddish in such seemingly unlikely places as The New York Times crossword puzzle and on cable news shows, by anchors and visiting pundits. And, of course, there is the entirely-in-Yiddish hit production of Fiddler on the Roof.
But friends and other critics – dare I say it? — pooh-poohed my enthusiasm, pointing out that New York is a prime cosmopolitan area, where people of a great many ethnicities and their languages have long flourished. So the appearance of Yiddish in the outlets I’d enthused about were, in their words, no big deal.
Nor were these critics impressed by examples of unexpected insertions of Yiddish in person-to-person encounters.
For example, when a non-Jewish woman introduced her infant girl as Shanda, we asked how she came to give the baby that name. The young mother explained that when she’d told a Jewish friend she was expecting a baby, but that the father had fled the scene, the Jewish woman had exclaimed, “A shanda (shame).”
The mother-to-be thought the word sounded lovely and chose it as the baby’s name.
But that too, the cynics say, is an unsurprising New York-based occurrence.
Still, all the pooh-poohing aside, I’m taking a fresh look at spelling bees, since Jerry, a lib, klug fraynd (dear, smart friend) alerted me to the fact that the recent annual Scripps National Spelling Bee had challenged contestants with Yiddish words.
The contest even led off with the word Yiddishkeit (Jewishness) and later included lekach (honey cake) among other Yiddishisms and some Hebrew words. Holishkeit (stuffed cabbages) and Keriah, the traditional practice of cutting a mourner’s garment were among the others. There were also words in other foreign languages.
Because the event was held in a hotel in Oxon Hill, Maryland, near Washington, DC, the ho-hum, whaddya expect, it’s New York reaction didn’t apply.
The realization that Yiddish had been part of this annual big time event, inspired an idea: Why not have an all-Yiddish spelling bee?
And since we Jews often answer with a question, wouldn’t all-Yiddish Jeopardy be ideal?
Can you picture it? “I’ll take Mishegas for 500, Alex.”
And doesn’t just thinking about the prospect make you kvell?
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Cohen is a freelance writer based in New York.