Too friendly

In the city (i.e., Manhattan), we called areas like the one where I now live, "the country". Here in the country, people are different. For instance, in the city we rarely say hello to anyone on the street. A nod, perhaps. But that's about it (and only if pressed).

But here in the country, everyone is hello-mad. People are always waving at you and trying to slip you a hello. They do it from cars; they do it while walking along the street; they do it from their yards. I do not like this. Mind you, this wasn't a problem when I never went outside. But now that I've begun to walk through the area for health reasons, I can't escape these people. Horrors!

What I do is act like I'm blind. They can wave at me all they want; I don't notice. But on those rare occasions when someone is walking directly toward me and will pass within inches, slyly slipping me a hello, I use another technique.

I've mentioned on the blog that I often wear white cotton gloves. They look fabulous on a 6'5" guy. When I walk, I wear the gloves but keep my hands in my pockets because of the cold. But when someone accosts me up-close with an unwanted hello, I take a white-gloved hand out and wave at them in my strangest, Mickey Mouse manner, waggling the fingers madly and adding an over-the-top smile to the mix.

I hope this will stop these people from saying anything further to me. Walking is a lone enterprise and I want to keep it that way. Am I a curmudgeon? Of course. If you didn't already know that, you must be new here.

Okay, I'm gonna put on my protective white gloves and go for a nice, lonely walk. And everybody better keep away from me!

Oy: a perfect word

If you live in Manhattan you have not one, but many, Jewish friends. It just happens. And if you've had these friends for a number of years, you know all about the word "oy". Well, maybe not all. But you understand the word a lot better than your typical goyim.

First of all, oy is not as simple as it seems when you see it written down. It's just joy without the J, right? Oy, you gentiles! You just don't get it.

Oy is not a simple word. For one thing, it has at least four, perhaps five, syllables. If you're from Iowa or Arkansas, you probably didn't know that. It's a deep word, with its own world of pronunciations and uses. Yes, it's perfect to express casual dismay, which is the way it's usually heard. But it also expresses fear and foreboding (and surprise) -- and does so beautifully. (This is one of the times when the number of syllables grows). Oy expresses hopelessness like a jewel. It is the perfect word for the verklempt.

I could go on and on, particularly about the pronunciation. But it would be far better if you did a few years of field work. You really can't teach the use of the word; you have to live with it.

I'd like to close with a final thought that expresses the utter perfection of the word "oy". Oy is the yin of yo's yang. If you had any doubts about the almost supernatural nature of the term, surely this observation blew your doubts away. If not, oy.