Dr. Estelle Meets “Hymie”

I met a nice fellow named “Hymie.”

That was the name on his name-tag when he sidled up to me in one of the inexpensive discount stores my husband and I frequent.

He sidled up, of course, while my husband was out of sight.

He offered me help shopping: locating thins I wanted, helping me get them to the front of the store. Since I walk with a cane, I often get Good Samaritans who want to help me.

The name “Hymie” was a slang gentiles used to have for Jews. It wasn’t really politically correct, but it is like calling a Southerner “Buford” or “Bubba” — funny to a certain type of immature and casually bigoted person. I remember Rev. Jesse Jackson referred to Jews as “Hymies” and to New York City as “Hymietown” in January 1984 and it caused a real big uproar — after which Rev. Jackson humbly apologized.

Now in these parts, “Jaime” is the Mexican version of “James”, and is pronounced “Hymie.”

Ever focusing on new ways to be cute, I spoke to him in the (ethnically and honestly mine) “Yiddish” (Judeo-Geman) of my childhood.

“What’s a nice Jewish boy doing working in a discount store around Christmas?”

“Huh?” he replied in a confused tone, in an unidentifiable language, closest to Spanish.

“Feliz Navidad,” I responded in Spanish.

He looked more confused, but I stuck with Spanish as I told him, it was the richness of different ethnic origins that made America Great.

This time I got a confused handshake and a smile.

It is lost — people learning languages. It is a great way to approach people, bringing people closer to you.

It is more serious that we seem to have forgotten that if you go far enough back, it is more the rule than the exception that people were something of another origin, before they became American.

I had turned an ancient memory of having been called a “Hymie” into a very modern trans-American smile.

I was proud.