2.17.2012

Yiddish Lesson #1

My father once had a famously excellent sense of direction.  When my mother and I were by ourselves we often got ferblondjet which made us laugh and irritated my dad even though he wasn't there.  Just hearing about it later made him upset because he couldn't understand how anyone could be so dim, that if we only paid closer attention we wouldn't have gotten lost, which may or may not be true.

Even though I have a terrible sense of direction, often I am so convinced that I am right about what direction to take, that I insist we follow my lead, that despite all the times in the past I have been wrong, this time, I am right, even though every time I convince my husband of this it proves to be the wrong direction to take.

These days, my dad's sense of direction is not as famous since he is sometimes wrong, or at least it takes him a while to figure out what direction to take.  He gets a little discouraged by this, but I try to tell him. It could be worse.  Better to be ferblondjet than to be fercockt.


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