I had of course always known that the heart of Yiddish in America lives in New York City. I felt that this knowledge was firmly situated in my understanding of my family heritage and Jewish story, but I hadn’t paid it nearly enough attention during my first year living in the city.
In light of the political circumstances, the supposed week exploring Yiddishland in Poland was quickly vetoed and replaced with a week-long local exploration of Yiddishland, New York. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to visit the alterhaim, something that felt imperative on my personal journey of investigating Yiddish language, culture, and heritage, but the impossibility of this trip reflected a modern political reality with which we couldn’t argue.
Devoting six full days to focusing on where/how Yiddish lives in New York amplified for me that Yiddishland is here, not just far away in Poland and Eastern Europe. That trip would have introduced me to a very different Yiddishland, and while I’m sure I would have found connection and meaning in a more distant part of my cultural heritage, this adjusted version reminded me that I live, study, and enjoy Yiddishland every day.
The week we spent in New York was jam packed with workshops, tours, and special sessions with the local Yiddish Greats. Each night, I slept soundly after a full day of walking, listening, shmuesing, and growing my appreciation for the open arms of the Yiddish kehillah. One highlight was a song workshop with Sarah Gordon, lead singer of the rock band Yiddish Princess. At the end of the first full day, we sat circled around in armchairs, singing viglider (lullabies) and protest songs, lyrical poems and classics. After rounds and rounds of repetition, these songs took on a hypnotic quality, and we sat together, soothed by the sounds of our own voices, singing in this language we were dedicating our summers to learning. It was a terrific way to begin the week.
Walking around the Lower East side of Manhattan with a particular attention to the landmarks of former Yiddish cultural centers was rather new for me. Like I’ve mentioned, I’d always been aware of the Yiddishkeyt imbued in these streets and neighborhoods, but it wasn’t until this in-depth walking tour that I realized the extent of what has disappeared over the last century. We walked past frozen yogurt shops, banks, hotels, and any number of other unassuming multi-storied buildings that once housed grandiose Yiddish theatres, which at one time could seat a few thousand guests for their enjoyment of Yiddish plays and musicals. The Yiddish walk of fame, home to almost 30 stars declaring the names of the foremothers and fathers of Yiddish theatre, lays just outside a Bank of America, or the former home of the 2nd Avenue Deli. Yiddish history seems to be crammed into a growing and changing Manhattan, some of it visible and some buried by the inevitable shift of property ownership, and time.
