A Visit from my Folks, Farshtaist?
My parents are special. And yes, they are still alive. See... I was adopted at a very young age. I was never told what happened to my birth parents, but we never talked about it. I 'lived in the moment' and didn't really want the thoughts of the parents I have to be tarnished by stories about people I never even met.
My parents are old world. They speak in the old tongue and observe all the old rituals. They're Druids. Druish through and through.
When I was little, I was raised in the Druish faith. I wore the Yarmulke and played with my little druidldel. I also was taught one of the most descriptive and rich languages, Druiddish.
I got word that my folks were going to stop by for a visit. I krotzed myself out, and put the chinik on and made some tsimmis, just like Bubby used to make.
What follows is what we talked about during their visit. I've translated where needed for all you Goyishe kupp. Don't worry, man, it's nisht geferlich!
My mother came in. "Bubbellah! (sweetheart)" Incorporeal hug, kiss kiss. She called to my father, "Moishe Kapporeh! (Good for nothing) Get your tuchas (butt) in here and see your little Quiggy!"
I gave JJ a look that make a Hutt whimper. "Don't you even start."
He raised his hands and shook his head, but I know that there was a Jawa grin hidden under that robe.
"Feh! (sound of annoyance) I'll get there when I get there, you noodnik (annoying pain in the butt). Quit hocking me en chinik (bothering me)!"
My mother and father both are about 3 feet tall and Alta kockers (old farts). Their species is like a mix between Yoda and Jawa. They live to about 200 and my parents are in their 150s. And all they do is kvetch (complain).
My father is a Rebbe (holy man). He came wearing his robes, looking deep and thoughtful.
I-SUC came in with tea and stopped when he caught sight of my father. "Has he come to perform my last rights?"
"Last rights! What is this narishkeit (foolishness)?"
JJ laughed, nervously.
"It's an inside joke. Why don't I show you my office?"
Good save, JJ.
Mum and I settled down with tea. It had been so long since we'd had a real conversation face to face. Well, punim (face) to incorporeal punim. I've called across the Commtech, but that's never the same, man.
"So, my little bubbellah, how are you doing? You look well."
"I'm dead, ma."
"But you're looking so good! All lean and trim. Not like your father. I swear to you that he's carrying a baby Eopy in his belly. It's snout is coming out of his pupik (belly-button)." When mum speaks, it's always embellished with grand hand gestures. "And your brother! Oi! Gevalt! Did I tell you the tsooris (grief), tatellah (little man)? He lost his job?"
My brother worked in a very prestigious position, way high up on the royal priority scale, in the kingdom of Florin. I'm a little older than Max, though technically, he came first. He wasn't a bad kid, though he was less physical and more into his studies. And, Oi!, could he kvetch. He'd always catch me and go on and go about the things that he hated when they happened.
Like, "Don't' you hate it when you take one of those..."
"Yeah, and you stick it up your nose and twirl it around and then you take one of those...."
"Vicks menthol inhalers?"
"Yeah, and you *SNIIIFFF*...."
"Yeah, I hate it when that happens."
He was a bit of a masochist.
"Like I was saying before you started on your little trip down memory lane, boubbie (sweetie), he got laid off! He was just doing his job, being a good little macher and the king's stinking son fired him. But if you talk to him, don't bring it up, he says it's like giving him a paper cut and pouring lemon juice on it and you know that..."
"He hates it when that happens?"
Mum nodded. "You know your brother well. And Roseanne! Oi! Did you hear?"
Don't get me wrong, I love my little sister, but, um, wow. Every time we talked she never failed to gross me out. When she talked about something, she told you all the gory details. And usually, it wouldn't be relevant to the conversation, but that's my Roseanne.
"All right, so she calls me up and starts telling me about how she's feeling, and this is Roseanne we're talking about so it's 'I'm depressed, I gained weight, my face broke out, I'm nauseous, I'm constipated, my feet swelled, my gums are bleedin', my sinuses are clogged, I got heartburn, I'm cranky and I have gas. ... What should I do?'"
I just shook my head.
"There's more, boubbie. So I told her to go see a doctor, a good one, mind you. Not one of those cheap lousy ones that just guess and charge your for all the bupkis (nothing) they did. Because, if you don't have your health, you don't have nothing. But with her, it's always something, you know?"
That was Roseanne's catch phrase. After making a stoic and generally strong stomached Jedi Master gag, she'd end the convo with 'It's always something.' And with her, it always was.
"She's with peckel (a bun in the oven)! You're gonna be an uncle!" She tried to pat my hand, but it just phased through. But, when mum's got a story to tell, she never misses a beat. "Due in a few weeks and she's huge! Her pupik sticks straight out and looks like she's going to have a litter of little 'Rosannadanna's' (my sister's nickname). The biggest thing is that we don't know if it's going to be a tatellah or a mamellah (little boy or little girl). I'm just... I've got shpilkes (pins and needles) in my gevechtengezoink! (okay, look, this is not a real word, mom made it up, but it sounds good... tell her it sounds good) I'm getting verklempt (worked up)." She sucked in a breath and held a hand to her chest all dramatically, which she was quite good at. "Duran Duran was neither a Duran nor a Duran. Discuss."
This was a mechanic of my mother to allow her a moment to compose herself and for her kinder (children) to ponder the truly pressing issues of the day.
"Uh, well, at the time, Duran Duran made good music."
She nodded and patted the sides of her poofy hair. "They did... Quiggy, my boubbie, thank you for the money you send me and your dad. Since your brother is a shnorror (person who sponges off others) and we've been trying to help your sister get ready for the baby, our funds have been low."
"Me and JJ have been working really hard."
"Qui, honey." Oh no... This was a bad tone. "You and JJ aren't... You know..."
I blinked at her. One thing that was a constant from my mum was a push for grandchildren. Since Jedi tend to abstain from the whole attachment thing, she started voicing her doubts. Now, she was happy when she found out my marriage to Tahl and was nearly as devastated as I was when she heard about her passing. Even in death, she sfeykes (doubts) me. She constantly oysfregn (interrogates) me about who I'm with and what we're doing. "No, mum. He's my best friend. Nothing more."
"I know, boubbie, I just want to see some grand-kinder and if you..."
"No, mum. He's my business partner. A shveyr arbiter (hard worker), maven hondler (expert bargainer) and an all around mensch (good guy). And I'm dead... Svet gornischt helfen (it wouldn't help) if I were with a woman. I can't give you any grand-kinder."
"Ah my little Quiggy. You'll always be my little Yeshiva bucher (quiet school boy). You give me Nachas (pride)! Even though you are far away, and dead, you'll always be part of the mishpucheh (family)."
At about this time, before things got way too sappy, Dad and JJ reappeared. I was afraid that they wouldn't get along. See, dad's never been one to agree with all my mishegoss (crazy ideas). He never dug the music gigs or the brownies. So, like, I was worried that if JJ started in on what our business does, dad'd freak. Luckily, that was not the case.
"Hey, Qui! Your dad is the coolest!" JJ put his arm around dad and dad put his around JJ. They were both about the same height and smiling, JJ's eyes were lichticheh (shining). "We're lodge brothers! We both belong to the Loyal Order of Hagglers."
Dad chimed in. "Yeah, and now we'll show you our secret handshake."
They both outstretched their arms with their palms open. They closed their hands, opened them again, and then pointed at the palm with their other hand.
Soon after, they left, but not without hugs and advice and more advice and mum showing JJ pictures that will not be posted here as I have a reputation to uphold.
A sorry it was such a megillah (long story).
Zei gesunt! (Be in good health)