‘Kvetching” is not in the dictionary. Not because Webster was a purist. Etymologists tell me it’s because the old geezer was a kvetch.
The problem was Noah could not determine its root. Aramaic? Greek? Prehistoric Swahili? How to parse the word. Noah even unfolded his Latin travel “Scrabble” set but — forget it. His wife, Sylvia, said to study fee, fi, fo, fum. Thus, make it kvee, kvi, kvo, kvum. He told Mrs. Webster: Thou shalt mind thine own business.
Result? New Yorkers who speak Castilian Kvetch are left with their vocabularies down.
Google defines this as nag, complain, sound off. New York defines it as a local inherited divine right.
New York is Kvetch City. Nothing happens here that is not quarreled over. There was the time Mayor Bloomberg flew his plane, which he bought with his own money, to his house in Bermuda which he bought with his own money. Then came a slight blizzard. So what happened? Everyone kvetched that he’d left his city job, which he’d also bought with his own money.
Comes summer. Killer tornado. Twister with 100 mph winds. Cars overturned. Houses smashed. People killed. Trees down. Transportation halted. Power out. Floods. Earthquake. And on the air, on the ground, on TV, grabbing microphones, holding bullhorns, in newspapers, hanging from a zeppelin, shouting in Kmart aisles, taking command — His Honor Mike. Addressing the populace, protecting the city, warning to take cover, stay indoors, batten down, care for the elderly, go to shelters. So what happened? Everyone kvetched it was overkill.
Maybe it’s just us. Thin people beat up on fat people. Fat people sue because their seats can’t wriggle into White Castle seats. Cops shook their booties during the hot and happy West Indian parade? Zounds! Folks fulminated as if Obama had actually raised from his coma. How dare the NYPD do that. Not proper. Not civilized. Not orderly. Embarrassing. Unbecoming an officer. Even paroled drug dealers without green cards complained.
Why? Because we’re New Yorkers. It’s what we do. It just goes with our ZIP code. Can’t give a beat cop a free apple. Can’t hand a neighborhood policeman a cup of coffee on the arm. Why not? They face danger. Save lives. Earn little. Why is being neighborly, festive, allowing occasional friendship evil? And if you don’t like my kvetching about this, kvetch you!
In Utah, kvetching doesn’t happen. The reason being, who can they kvetch to? Like a buffalo really cares to hear what your mother-in-law did Friday? And what’s to kvetch about? Not enough lox to go with the Salt Lake? Utahans aren’t even aware their bagels are lousy. All they got is a tabernacle full of Mormons. Well, we got a stageful. Don’t buy an airplane seat to Utah to see Mormons. For a few bucks more, buy a theater seat to B’way and see Mormons.
A guy whose birthplace was Kansas City told me: “Cranky New Yorkers always fuss and fume. We don’t do that in Kansas.” Me: So where do you live? “New York.”
Kvetching is international. Take Egypt. Named for its famous king is Cairo’s great university Farouk U. On the toilet wall is scrawled “Call Hotep for a good time.” Underneath, in hieroglyphics, was added: “Forget Hotep. Try Mumtaz.”
Parisians look down on anything not from France. To quote one of their ambassadors: “Madame, the French even hate the French.”
Italians are born to love. Brits, born to hold umbrellas. Luxembourg citizens do nothing but stare at one another and growl: “What the hell are we doing here?”
In our city, the major expression is “Yeah, but …”
Say “autumn is lovely.” A New Yorker will answer: “Yeah, but soon it’s cold, and the pizza will come with winter- weight olive oil.”
Admire an outfit, and a New Yorker says: “Yeah, but the problem is her end doesn’t justify the jeans.”
Compliment a downtown apartment and the reply’s: “Yeah, but it’s too small for our His ’n’ Hers motorcycles.”
Talk deli sandwiches, and it’s: “Yeah, but either go on a diet or we have to let out the couch.”
Applaud a New Yorker’s college entrance, and it’s: “Yeah, but he’s in medical school. They’re studying him!”
On this crowded island, nobody’s satisfied. Kvetch about taxis, yet if it rains we all grab taxis. Grouse about department store prices, yet nobody in the five boroughs pays retail. Deplore the price of movie theater popcorn, yet we walk out with a tub as big as Cleveland. Nag about garbage, but when eight million throw something out it somehow never hits the trash can.
However, us against us is allowed. Some hick they let out of Georgia mentions crime here? Stick it to them fast with: “We provide for that. Officials put aside extra cash in the budget just for holdup money. It’s the cost of doing business.” A redneck from DirtyShirt, Ala., upset over two traffic summonses in Manhattan? Tell him: “One more, and we give you a season ticket.”
We’re entitled to pick and poke. That’s our birthright. We’re New Yorkers. Just don’t let any out-of-towner knock us. Tell them quick: “Watch your mouth, pal. Remember, you’re allowed to say anything we please.”