{"id":17886,"date":"2014-08-22T11:15:58","date_gmt":"2014-08-22T17:15:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.crescentcityjewishnews.com\/?p=17886"},"modified":"2014-08-22T11:16:48","modified_gmt":"2014-08-22T17:16:48","slug":"the-evolution-of-grandparents","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.crescentcityjewishnews.com\/blog\/the-evolution-of-grandparents\/","title":{"rendered":"The evolution of grandparents"},"content":{"rendered":"

By TED ROBERTS, the SCRIBBLER ON THE ROOF<\/em><\/p>\n

\"Ted_Roberts\"

Looking back I think they were too busy making a living \u2013 a full time obsession. There was more than a double generation gap between them and me. They had worked in muddy fields digging potatoes \u2013 I played America\u2019s game, baseball.<\/p>\n

They would politely inquire as to our health, never forgetting to question our digestive functions. And if you passed that quiz with \u201cOh, yes, every morning this week,” next came the goose grease threat. I always breathed loud and forcefully in their company. No chest congestion suspicions or you\u2019d find yourself laying on the couch marinating in cold, yellow fat that used to belong to a chicken \u2013 now deceased. The smell was awful and it defeated three to four baths with ease. I guess it had its advantages. Basically, since you smelled like a spoiled chicken you were quarantined from any schoolhouse diseases.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll admit that Grandma\u2019s (we never called her Bubbe) hatred of my puppy didn\u2019t help our relationship. She couldn\u2019t understand why we kept a border who paid no rent and ate like a small horse. What did he contribute besides dog hair on the couch and a mobile stumbling block to send you sprawling down the stairs? She called him \u2013 in broken Yiddish \u2013 \u201cDer Hunt\u201d. That\u2019s what it sounded like to me; and she bit off that last consonant, sharply, so it sounded like a curse. A cat? Ah, that was different. Cats killed mice that subleased their quarters over the store. They paid for their cat food with extermination services.<\/p>\n

The grandpapa had his own collection of Yiddish phrases \u2013 none with good ol\u2019 American hatred that accused the victim of strange sexual practices or blighted ancestry. When angry, he\u2019d demonize his opponent with something that sounded like \u201cHaben a chollentia in der zeitin\u201d, which I think meant, \u201cYou should have a pain in your side\u201d. But his most awesome (and comical) uttering sounded like \u201cA mis a mus shin off dere\u201d. When I matured enough to be trusted with the secret, I was told it meant, \u201cI hope you have an ugly daughter\u201d. An ugly daughter? That\u2019s a curse?<\/p>\n

There were others equally comedic. How \u2018bout: \u201c Ich chub der in bud\u201d \u2013 interpreted in my family (rightly or wrongly) as: Ah, I have you helpless \u2013 I have you in the bathtub. Yiddish \u2013 a dying language \u2013 who knows \u2013 did not lend itself to curses. My grandmother, not to be outdone, had some verbal quirks of her own. The car was referred to as \u201cthe machine\u201d. Not inaccurate.<\/p>\n

We saw them frequently and I\u2019m sure they loved us, but hugs and kisses were rationed. Dr. Spock\u2019s nonsense, remember, hadn\u2019t yet been invented. He would have suggested unearned outpouring of love and I probably would have ended up in jail.<\/p>\n

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