Growing up in the 50s, included a very large nuclear family, extending to second and third cousins. I had no idea of the significance of which numbered relatives they were, but figured out there were a lot of people I was related to. Whether it be the family poker games, the celebratory events, likes weddings or bar mitzvah’s, and even the holidays, Jewish and American, members of my family would gather, some speaking in English, some when telling a dirty joke, speak the punch line in Yiddish, and when a point had to be made with great precision, Romanian would be the line of communication used. My family, at the time still included immigrants to the USA, many who had lived in this country for years, but many who also harbored bits and pieces of Romanian superstition. Often time the first generation of relatives would explain to their parents, that in this country we are safe, and there is no need to assume the boggy man (some Romanian government official) would break through the door and cart anyone off to jail. There was some agreement regarding that, but there still remained on superstition, that sadly to this day still resonates within my psyche. It was my GrandMa Braff, I believe, who first introduced me to the Pooh-Pooh People. An invisible tribe of demon like creatures who hovered around humans, waiting for the human to say something nice, praise or reward a good behavior, or even have the audacity to say something nice. My GrandMa Braff, was certain that if you embraced just the good and were never cautious regarding the negative, the Pooh-Pooh People would step into the future and actually fuck thing up for you. (GrandMa Braff never said fuck up, but she would pull your cheeks toward her turn your head as she did hers to the left and then the right, and whisper, just loud enough for you to hear the word KAKA, then she would add such a shanda!
(KAKA was her term for fucked up, and shanda was sinful)
The only way, according to my GrandMa Braff to not fall into the trap of the Pooh-Pooh People, was to either never acknowledge something good might happen, OR, if you did want to KVELL (brag) after speaking of the positive, you immediately had to say Pooh-Pooh-Pooh, then you turned your head left to right then up and down. For good measure my GrandMa Braff would place her right index finger over her lips and sigh. There were many superstitions traded and shared as I grew up in the 50s, and most I chuckle over and find hard to believe I actually believed in them. But to this day, I still work and wonder about the Pooh-Pooh People.
Each new day is like the movie Groundhog Day. I ask did World War 3 start…I count how many Tweets Trump had created…I hear just how many more Trump Campaign, Administration or Family members have been connected to the Russians…The GOP, still wanting one success no matter the cost to their constituents…Trump lying…and Americans pretending that what the hell, since he is sitting in the Oval Office, lets just deal with it. I then imagine, how much different ALL of this might have been if only millions of us would have taken my GrandMa Braff’s advice and just said Pooh-Pooh-Pooh.
