In a Mazeldike Shu: Yiddish Across Generations

Whenever I spent the night at my grandparents' house as a child, before I went to bed, my grandfather, whom I affectionately call Zeide (Yiddish for grandfather), would say to me before bed, “A gutte nacht, shloft gezuntereit.” (good night, sleep in good health)  “A dank,” (thank you) I would respond, without ever realizing that I was speaking Yiddish. Since the day I was born, Yiddish has been integrated into my everyday life and has influenced both my vocabulary and culture. Although I do not speak Yiddish fluently, I have grown up surrounded by Yiddish, and I feel a personal and meaningful connection to this beautiful language.

Because I have been hearing Yiddish my whole life, I sometimes do not even notice when it is being spoken. My Zeide calls me “katshke,” the Yiddish word for duck, and in my family, we use “chupchik” to describe an object when no one knows its actual name, which happens more often than you might expect! Music became one of the main ways I connected to the language. I remember my mom playing Yiddish songs in the car on the way to school, including “Tumbalalaika,” “Oyfn Pripetshik,” and “L’Chaim” from Fiddler on the Roof, just to name a few. I also have clear memories of sitting in my bed at night, singing “Yume Yume” with my mom, always laughing at the end of the song when the mother finally understands what the daughter wants: a husband! At every birthday celebration in my family, “Happy Birthday” takes almost five minutes because we sing in four languages—English, Spanish (“Las Mañanitas”), Hebrew, and Yiddish. All of my memories of Yiddish are filled with warmth and family, which is why the language has always felt especially meaningful to me. 

As I got older, I realized that even though Yiddish is woven into my life, maintaining that connection requires my own effort and appreciation. Yes, I will always be surrounded by Yiddish because my grandfather and mom speak it all the time, but I have to embrace it myself. While most people my age have never heard Yiddish spoken in conversation, I am fortunate to hear it regularly. Every year in elementary school, there was a talent show on the last day, and in fourth grade, I sang “Haleluye” in Yiddish in front of all of the students, teachers, and parents. Just a few years later, at my bat mitzvah, I sang several Hanukkah songs in Yiddish because my simcha (celebration) fell during the holiday. Beyond speaking and singing in Yiddish, I’ve adopted smaller traditions to keep my relationship to the Yiddish language thriving. Every time I board a plane, I quietly repeat the Yiddish phrase my great-grandfather created: “in a mazeldike shu mit dem rechtn fus.” These moments will stay with me forever because there is something beautiful about connecting through a language and culture that not everybody can experience. These traditions, songs, and phrases have become part of who I am and remind me that Yiddish is not just a language of the past; it is living.

Over the years, Yiddish has become not only a part of my life, but also something I have chosen to carry forward. Recently, my relationship with Yiddish has connected me to a broader community beyond my own family. For the past two years, I have led a Yiddish sing-along with the Houston Yiddish Vinkl at their annual commemoration of Sholem Aleichem, where I sing several songs in Yiddish alongside people of many ages—from children to parents to elders. One of the most meaningful moments came when I looked out at the audience and saw the 103-year-old woman who helped organize the event watching two toddlers dance as I sang. In that moment, generations were connected through the same language and music. Last summer, I also had the privilege of attending the Great Jewish Books Summer Program at the Yiddish Book Center, where I deepened my appreciation for Yiddish literature, history, and culture. 

Yiddish has shaped my life in both large and small ways, from songs that I have been singing since childhood to the traditions and practices I carry on today. For me, the language is so special because of my family’s connection to it and the way it has been naturally integrated into our everyday lives. Although Yiddish is an old language, when I hear it, I think of Zeide and his nicknames for me, childhood memories of sleepovers at my grandparents’ house, long birthday celebrations, and summers spent swimming in my grandparents’ pool with the sound of traditional Yiddish music playing in the background. I feel incredibly fortunate that my family has instilled in me the importance of keeping Yiddish alive. Through language, culture, and music, I know the future is bright, and Yiddish will continue to thrive for generations to come.