Last week, I was invited to read a Yiddish poem at the first of our library's "Favorite Poem Community Readings." The event, which happened last night, is part of a national, decades-long peace initiative called the Favorite Poem Project, in which Americans are asked to transcend divisive cultural boundaries by reading each other their favorite poems. The only hard-and-fast rules for our local event were that (1) you're not allowed to read a poem that you, a friend, or a relative has written, and (2) you have to explain why you like the poem so much. Our local organizer wanted to have poems in multiple languages, in order to emphasize the international diversity of our community. I was excited that she asked me to read in Yiddish.
Of course, I wanted to share a Yiddish children's poem, since everything I do these days seems to focus on childhood. So I went to my bookshelf (both print and digital) and started flipping through Yiddish children's poems, looking for something short, fun, and interesting that would somehow speak to my experiences raising my son in Yiddish.
Of course, I wanted to share a Yiddish children's poem, since everything I do these days seems to focus on childhood. So I went to my bookshelf (both print and digital) and started flipping through Yiddish children's poems, looking for something short, fun, and interesting that would somehow speak to my experiences raising my son in Yiddish.