A shtikl o' Yiddish

Who says Yiddish is dead in Israel?! I got up bright and early on Thursday to catch a bus to Jerusalem for a conference celebrating "A Century of Yiddish," the centennial anniversary of the Czernowitz Conference. From August 30 to September 3, 1908, a bunch of brenendike Yiddishists (including H.D. Nomberg, Haim Zhitlovsky, Sholem Asch, and I.L Peretz, the big machers appearing from left to right) got together in the cultural capital of the former Austrian Bukovina to proclaim Yiddish "a national language of the Jews." This year's centennial was only 15 months behind... not bad for Jewish time! Lectures were offered in Yiddish and in Hebrew, with frequent funny fusion moments during the Q&A, which was really just a function of the seniority of the more vocal audience members. (I think it's safe to assume that most of them have been lingering in a kind of linguistic limbo for the past 80+ years.) Topics ranged from Soviet Yiddish travel literature of the interwar period to Elie Wiesel's unknown career in Yiddish journalism to the history of Yiddish lexicography to teaching Yiddish to children in the 21st century. In short, a gantse megile!

There were two highlights. First, an incredible monologue by Aaron Zeitlin spoken in a kind of mongrelized Yiddish-English hybrid by a Jewish-American immigrant who speaks English now "vegn di kinder, ya know?" Hard to summarize here, but it was quite moving. The other highlight was suddenly, from across the room, hearing a familiar voice ask a question in flawless Yiddish with a heavy Canadian accent -- it was my former Yiddish teacher, Sheva Zucker! I hopped over and was greeted with a hearty "Sholem aleichem!" and a big hug. At lunchtime, while patiently listening to (and occasionally correcting) my very rusty Yiddish, Sheva accompanied me to the cafeteria, where we battled the shtupenish of senior citizens in "line" (if you can call it that) for chicken soup, meatballs and other delicacies from the OldCountry. My Canadian politeness was hard to maintain in the face of a bunch of squat Jewish men with hearing aids shoving in front of me for seconds. But hey, I love the alte kakers just the same.

Now my eyes keep darting for remnants/revivals of mame-loshn in the holy land... and guess what? There's one right on my corner. An ice cream store called zisele (sweety). I'll have to try it out. I wonder whether they've got any special flavors from der alter heym. To invoke my sister-in-law's late bubbe: scoop of whitefish, anyone?