Engbrew or Hebrish

[Originally published in 2002 for the Society for Technical Communicators -Israel Chapter]

I just recently returned from a trip to the US, my place of birth. I hadn't been there in seven years. I was traveling with a fair amount of apprehension, since my wife and I were traveling with our four boys (age 5 and under), all of whom were convinced they were going to pilot the plane themselves. Once the sedatives kicked in, we had a good time seeing family, doing fun things, and squishing bugs. One of the nicest comments about our children made to us in the form of a question which was asked by more than one person was, "Do you always tie up your children with packing tape?"… No, really, people actually asked us," Do they speak Hebrew?" I was amazed, of course: "After Pokemanese, Hebrew is their Mother tongue". This got me thinking about how lousy my English really is.

While I was in the States, my father was invited to a party at the Israel Embassy, both in honor of several families planning to make Aliyah and in honor of others scheduled to volunteer their time in Israel. Now, I don't go to too many embassy parties, but this one seemed to lack a certain amount of excitement one associates with embassy parties and Washington sex scandals. One of the honorees was a young woman scheduled to make Aliyah and hoping to become a technical writer [1] in Israel. I introduced myself to her after the party and we started to talk shop. She asked me, "How well do you need to know Hebrew, to be a technical writer in Israel?" It took me a few minutes to decide how to formulate my response without seeming too erudite, but the answer was clear: you can be a technical writer with minimal Hebrew skills, but you are severely limited. Without getting into the Zionist aspect of knowing Hebrew, the developers I have come into contact with, by and large, prefer not to speak to technical writers at all. In fact, they tend to cringe and flee at the sight of a writer armed with legal yellow pads and sticky notes. When they do have to speak with writers, however, they prefer to speak in their native tongue (usually Russian or some hybrid of C++ combined with vague, guttural sounds) or Hebrew.

Preserving my English, however, that was a task I did not plan for. I speak to my kids in English (not what they call "English" in England, of course, but the US brand -- see www.wewonthewar.com). It isn't easy to speak correct English in Israel. After a while, certain Hebrew phrases creep into our daily language. First, there are all kinds of words that I learned in "the movement" that have become "English", such as chadar ochel. Most parents say, "Bobby, Tiffany, let's go to the chadar ochel", while I implore my children ,"&*%$ and *$%, move your ass to the dining room." Note the calming effect of the use of "dining room".

Most of us fall into the trap when we begin using commonly accepted Yiddish idioms and expressions like, "The chutzpah of using the word datum in a sentence", or, "She really knows her kishkes." The next step integrates Hebrew idiomatic scraps that have collected on many sidewalks and bathroom walls, such as, "Recompile the help file? Kfotzh li!" or making stupid jokes about your yearning for "Zion".

But ai-sham, down the line, we start to integrate Ivrit into our daily language. Bli la sim lev, we are using more and more Ivrit and our English goes kaka. Excuse me, I mean kaput.

So, if you want to maintain strong English skills while living in Israel, practice speaking and writing English correctly, even if it seems exaggerated. Ra-uh Huzhartem!
                                                                                                                                       
[1] A technical communicator communicates to others that they are "not a technical writer and watch out if you call me one". A technical writer works for a living.

Maybe the Mayan's Were Right?

Special Edition!
(Note the bold print)

I know you have been as worried about this week's big news as much, if not more, as I have been worried. I have been so worried, (How worried are you?) that not only did I sell my Facebook stock, draft a new will, added new entries to the bucket list, but I also secured cryogenic treatment for me and my cat. Cat you say?

No, I am not referring to Mitt Romney, the MLB draft, or Lebron James, but to the Bart Jansen's tribute to his cat Orville whom he (and I am not making this up) turned into a helicopter after he (Orville not Bart) was killed by a car.

We can understand this behavior in two ways:
1. Okay, he is Dutch and that explains just about every weird behavior from turning your deceased feline into a predator drone to eating french fries with pindasaus (a creative sauce made from the insides of a dead cats intestines - or some other products).

2. The other way to explain the captivating cat copter is, "What the f*** are you thinking Bart OMG Jansen? Your cat is erased off the planet by a speeding Hyundai your first thought is...hey let's take him for a spin around the living room...hmmm but how to make it easier?"

Okay...calm down, it isn't as if he was a crowned prince who threw a toilet to celebrate his Queen's birthday. What the hell is going on over there in Holland. Next they are going to start a new tourist indurstry for bed & break up.

Perhaps in retrospect, flying your cat over your ex's toilet is not so bad. I am trying to imagine what is next but all I can do is gag up a hair ball.

And speaking of gagging up hair balls, every time I see a rodent now I can only imagine what size beer container might fit inside it's carcass. Now technically this is not news or Dutch, but I bet they had the Dutch in mind when they brewed this idea up.

Do we go too far in immortalizing our pets? Turning them into helicopters or attractive beverage dispensers is only the tip of the iceberg. Just wait until someone wants to turn good old Fluffy into a reading lamp or  Spot into a hood ornament. It is just a matter of time.

Perhaps the Mayan's were right and that the end of the world is now. I think technology has hit its peak when we take the time to transform dead animals into knick knacks. Bring on Armageddon baby. Let us all just cash in our collective Facebook stock together and join that great social network in the sky when all we have to show are stuffed quadrupeds.

Since you are as concerned with this nonsense as I am, lets spread the news. Lets get the word out that we don't want to see former snakes turned into golf club warmers or or passed fish into tinkle toys, or Jocko the ex-parrot stuffed as a back-scratcher. Let our pets rest in peace. Spread the word by land and sea, and air...I hear their is a helicopter once named Orville for hire.