I was in a gourmet shop in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor when I spotted a Chinese takeout carton labeled “Jewish Fortune Cookies.” Unable to resist, I made my purchase and promptly dug into the carton to open the first one.
“Oedipus, Shmedipus,” it read. “So long as you love your mother.”
I smiled from ear-to-ear, thinking about the colorful expressions that surrounded me growing up in a Jewish neighborhood. My grandparents spoke Yiddish when they didn’t want us to understand them. But their English, too, was sprinkled with animated phrases that crossed over to my generation. Unfortunately, I’ve spent a lot of my life in places with few Jews, so I’m often misunderstood.
When I worked at a newspaper in Michigan, for instance, the newsroom was on the second floor of one of those grand old buildings with high ceilings. Climbing the stairs to my desk was like climbing two flights, not one.
“Oy,” I’d sigh every morning, as I reached the top landing with my heavy work bag.
“Hi,” my fellow reporters would respond, thinking I’d issued a salutation.
That’s when it dawned on me: How do you explain “oy”? It can be an expression of contentment (“Oy, what a delicious dinner”) or dismay (“Oy, I’ve gained 60 pounds since I went off Weight Watchers”) or even abysmal woe (“Oy! My grandson came home from college with more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese. Why on earth does anyone need to fit a pickle through their ear?”)
It can be used in a sentence:
Oy gevalt! (Oy geh vahlt): “May a great power intervene on my behalf!” Use this in desperate situations, like when you discover there’s a 45-minute wait at The Olive Garden.
Oy veh is mir! (oy vay is mir): “Oh, woe is me!”; “I am pain itself!” … an expression of suffering used to describe big horrors, such as finding out someone you love needs open-heart surgery, and everyday miseries like stocking runs and static cling.
Most Yiddish words have no English equivalents:
Yenim’s pipik (Yeh nem’s pip pick): somebody else’s bellybutton. You’re struggling to pay your mortgage, when your teenager hits you up for a new iPhone, because his is so “last generation.” You suggest he look in yenim’s pipik.
Yiddish words can spice up any ordinary sentence. Sprinkle them in for dramatic emphasis:
Ungehpotchkeyed (ung geh potch keed): excessively and gaudily over-decorated … think Liberace’s living room. Your neighbor wears enough makeup to press her face against a canvas and sell it as a self-portrait. Oy! Does she look ungehpotchkeyed.
Verbs are especially expressive, inviting genuine pity from anyone who will listen:
Schvitz (shvitts): to sweat profusely, as in oozing from every pore. “Oy, turn the air up. I’m schvitzing to death in here!”
Shlep (shlep): to drag; not merely to move an object, but to take on a burden to which no human being on earth should be subjected. (“I schlepped all over the city, trying to find shoes that don’t irritate my bunions. Now, oy gevalt, I not only need shoes; I need a motorized wheelchair.”)
Yiddish is packed with wonderful words to describe every moron, idiot and annoying or unpleasant person who’s ever crossed your path.
Yenta (yen ta): a busybody, a gossip … that relative at your son’s bar mitzvah, who asks, “So how much did this shindig cost?” … then wants to know, “If you can afford the Solid Gold dancers and the light-up hats, why aren’t you helping pay for Uncle Izzy in the old people’s home in Miami?”
Alter kocker (oll-ter-kock-er): A cranky old man; an “old fart” … the kind who yells at you from his front porch, while you’re walking your beagle: “Get off my lawn, you hooligans!”
Schlemiel (shluh meal): a born loser; the kind of jerk who wants you to invest your life savings in helping him bring back the eight track. There’s a Yiddish proverb that a schlemiel falls on his back and breaks his nose.
There are literally thousands of Yiddish expressions that can add spice to ordinary conversation:
Schmaltz (shmolts): corny, hackneyed emotionalism. “Feelings” is a schmaltzy tune.
Chutzpah (chuts pah) (The “ch” is a guttural, throat-clearing sound): colossal nerve. Jews often describe this as “Someone who murders his parents, then pleads for mercy in court on account he is an orphan.”
There are hordes of Yiddish physical descriptions:
Shnoz: slang for nose ― usually a large or unattractive nose (This comes from the German word “schnauzer,” meaning “snout” or “muzzle).
Pulkehs (pull keys): large, heavy thighs
Zoftig (zoff tig): soft and springy. Men use this word to describe women with a surplus of epidermis in all the right places.
Tuches (Taw chus) (guttural “ch”): the buttocks; the reason I’m ending this blog and heading to the Y. The tuchas is one of the unfortunate places where a zoftig woman’s epidermis tends to accumulate.
Love these colorful expressions! I’ve been using some for years — but others on your list are brand new to me — can’t wait to try them out! Escpecially “Ungehpotchkeyed!” So funny!
One of my faves. I often use it to describe clothing that’s too busy … or a DIY project where I get carried away with the glitter!
My mom always used Ungehpotchkeyed to describe the neighbors who wanted to show off!
I feel so bi-lingual! Oy!
My husband’s Catholic, but after 30 years in the fashion business and 20 years with me, he often says things that sound so Jewish! He’s got the inflection down!
Being the half Hebe that I am, I am LOVING this. I laughed my tuches off.
Thank you! Way too many words for one post, so I decided I’m going to do a column on this periodically. I could get a whole piece on Jewish insults, alone!
This is excellent!!!!! I’m amazed how many words I actually grew up with since we are not Jewish. But we are New York Italian so I guess that’s the second best way to learn!! Lol! As always you crack me up!
I miss being in South Florida in the 80’s I have heard ALL of these phrases, and used most of them.
You hit the nail on the proverbial head. Sounds like our childhood and our neighborhood.
I am determined that this wonderful language shall not die!
You missed my childhood threat…if I did not shape up I was going to get a potchentuches (spanking on buttocks). Don’t know if I spelled it right. Always sounded menacing from our Jewish neighbor.
What always drives me nuts is when people try to use the word kibbitz, and it come out as a weird cross between kibbutz and kuh-BITZ… oy vey, the goyim!
LOL! My 18-year-old is a Midwestern Jew, not raised in NYC like me. So for the longest time, she pronounced “oy” not with the “uh” sound, but as in ahoy. It drove me nuts. I told her it made her sound inauthentic … like a foreigner, not one of our people. She finally got it!
My non-Jewish co-worker mispronounces kvetch, instead of saying it as a one syllable word, he says ka-vetch!
Ungehpotchkeyed (and good job with the spelling) is one of my favorites. It’s also the punchline of a shaggy dog story my dad loved to tell. It’s probably one of about three Yiddish words I’ve passed along to my kids. And that “potchintuchas” was a familiar threat in my childhood. Sounds harmless now… Kvelling for you about this one!
Oh, PLEEEEZE post more! I
I grew up in suburban New York, and these bring all of it back. My kids know “Oy”, “Oy Gevalt”, “Oy! Veh is Mir” , “chutzpah”, ” feh!”, “mishegas”, “plotz”, “tchatchke” and “schlep” (referring to virtually every small thing in the living room and their bedrooms). I will absolutely be using “Yenim’s pipik” as much as I can from now on.
I absolutely love this article. The hubs is from Bmore, and uses some of these sayings a lot. The 17 y/o just said “Oy vey” in the kitchen, hahaha. How funny. I have learned some pretty colorful language since the hubs imported us from West Virginia.
I am going to work these back into my vocab. I love seeing these words again. Thanks for the laughs.
Ahhhhh this brings back some great memories for me. Two of my best friends in high school were young Jewish men and they ALWAYS said these words—-I already knew what most of them meant when I started reading them. Lots of smiles and sweet memories—thanks!
I love Yiddish, too – so expressive! Thank you for this informative and very funny post.
I’m plotzing here, I’m laughing so hard!!! LOVE,LOVE, LOVE, LOVE!!!
Bravo once again Parri! Can I send this to my daughters gentile boyfriend who thinks Lenders bagels are all the rage?
Loved the post as it brought back memories of my teen years. As a protestant teen, I moved from a Catholic neighborhood in NYC to an area of LA with a large Jewish population. I was with a new friend who called her father a “schmuck” which caused him to slap her so hard I was afraid her head would spin off. I immediately began to love Yiddish. It’s just sooooo hard to spell. Like the word “Chotchkey” – tchatchke – I know how to say it but not how to spell it!
Oy I’m laughing so hard I’m gonna plotz! I too grew up in a Jewish neighborhood, and my parents and grandparents used these expressions all the time. Other favorites in our house were Fachated (confused) Fashtuped (put something away) as in, “I fashtuped that credit card bill they sent me a month ago and now I can’t find it. Kina Hera – can’t really define it, but I’ll use it in a sentence…”Kina Hera look at your son, all grown up and a doctor!”
I too hardly use these words anymore…but I will try to pass them on to my daughter, who is very involved in a Jewish youth group!
I didn’t realize how many Yiddish words I use (I grew up in a distinctly non-Jewish town. I knew no one who was Jewish until I was 29). I have to add alter kocker to my repertoire because, oy, that is so fun to say! Thanks for the education.
I’m glad you enjoyed the piece. There were WAY too many words to use in a short blog, so look for more in the future: Yiddish verbs, Yiddish people, Yiddish insults …
These are fantastic! I actually use some of them already (I have no idea where I picked them up), but I must now incorporate “Ungehpotchkeyed” and “Alter kocker” into my every day conversations. And maybe a few others!
Kana Hurra,This brought back memories and laughs. I miss hearing my parents speak Yiddish.
I know! It’s such a colorful language. It’s my mission to keep it alive by hocking my daughter’s chinik by dropping Yiddish expressions into everyday speak!
Hilarious. I’m keeping this list with me for future reference. I’ll need it at work tomorrow.
Let me know if I can help you with any additional nouns, verbs or insults. It’s my goal to keep this language going!
My grandmother would be proud – I know all of these! One of her favorites was schmata – when I was a teenager she often asked, “What schmata are you wearing today? Oh vey, teenagers!”
Schmata. Rags. I always loved when it was used ironically. Like if you tell someone you like their dress and they reply, “What? This schmata? It’s from GoodWill.”
I learned both schvitzing and schmata from an Italian Catholic from Long Island. She was a VP I was under in one of my first jobs, and she was a TREASURE.
As a Pacific Northwesterner transplanted to the East Coast, I could have used this clever tutorial six years ago. MORE, PLEASE.
I’ll keep you supplied. I’m going to be doing more stories on this … Jewish insults, Jewish action verbs … I promise to keep them coming!
Oy gevalt! I’m a shiksa, but I can’t resist sprinkling my vocabulary with Yiddish. And I came from the midwest, but I went to the school of Woody Allen and then moved East. So, though many people think I’m meshugena, I’m not. They’re just putzes.
I absolutely adore this post! My mother, who genuinely believed that she should have been Jewish (sadly for her she was Presbyterian) used these words all the time when I growing up! This was like a trip down memory lane! :)-Ashley
That’s funny. I love that these words are so colorful, they’ve been embraced by all faiths! My husband’s Catholic, but has spent the bulk of his life in the shoe and fashion industry. So he uses them too. What he picked up from ME was proper inflection!
Neither the hubs nor I are Jewish, but when we decided on our schools and bought our house, it happened to be in the Jewish neighborhood. (We live in Houston, where most of the Jewish community has historically been segregated into a small-ish neighborhood on the SW side of town.) We send the kids to a Jewish daycare, and have had more than a few interesting conversations with family members, trying to explain what some of the phrases the kids throw out mean. LOL
Let me know if I can ever help you translate!
My second husband was Catholic and I am Jewish. I used so many Yiddish expressions and I
believe he thought he was a Jewish person by osmosis. He was in the flooring business. He had
a job one day in a 99% Jewish complex. The woman of the house had many of her good friends
to help her watch ‘the help’ to make sure he was doing it right. : ) He was moving her knick knacks
from her hutch and he asked her “where do want me to move your ‘schmoochkies (sp)? When he came home from work that day and told me the story, I almost plotzed!
Great story! Thanks for reading and sharing! I just started my day with a smile!
I almost plotzed when I saw your name…No…my name. My maiden name was Goodman. My husband was in the flooring business also. I am Jewish and he is Catholic and I speak Yiddish and he thought he had it down pat. Identical story. From beginning to end. How is this possible? Maybe I was sleep typing and wrote it last Feb. I am sitting here in the TWILIGHT zone. OY!!
As my friend, Linda, says: You must be my sistah from another mistah! I’m thinking about doing a part 2 to this story … so many words I couldn’t cram in!