Nisht ah hin, nisht ah hare. You could interpret this Yiddish saying as “not a chicken and not a rabbit,” which is its interpretation, but it is not the meaning of this saying. It is meant to be metaphorical and refers to something that is “neither here nor there.” But such a translation still does not convey the subtle nuances of the phrase. The following maises (stories) convey the true meaning of nisht ah hin, nisht ah hare:
Story #1
Yussel Goldfarber, a clothing salesman, was encouraging a customer, Lazer Yapanchik, to purchase a suit that was azoy und azoy (top quality). Lazer rubbed the cloth of the suit between his fingers, as was the custom of suit buyers a few years ago.
“Oy gevald,” said Yussel to Lazer, “do you realize the bargain that you are getting for such a fine suit?” In kurtzen (in short), Lazer purchased the ahntzig (suit) and planned to wear it at the bar mitzva of his einikel (grandson) Shmulikeh.
The great day finally arrived, and Lazer walked to shul with gusto and pride, enjoying wearing his suit. The bar mitzva took place, and Shmulkeh read the Torah portion like a pro. Nu, a bar mitzva without a kiddush is like herring without kichel. Therefore, following the davening, there was a kiddush – not a herring-kichel kiddush, you understand, but a kiddush worth shmoozing about. There was cholent, varnishkes, kreplach, gehakteh laber, sizzled katchkeh, cold cuts, and all types of exotic fruits from the Bahamas to Jaffa. There were red wines, dry wines, California wines, Israel wines, and vehr-vais-from-where (who knows) wines. There was vintage Scotch, bourbon, and drinks ranging from Alaska Special to gin and tonic.
Nu, as you surely know, since the destruction of our Beis Hamikdash (Holy Temple), Yidden do not feel totally joyous. For instance, at a wedding, one of our happiest simchas, we stomp on and shatter a glass to remember the churban, the destruction of the Holy Temple.
Having some discontentment was assured to Lazer with the sudden appearance of an old acquaintance, one Beryl Finsterman. Probably sent by Satan, Beryl asked Lazer why he, Lazer, wore such an old-fashioned suit to such a lavish affair.
Lazer, a sensitive soul, reacted like a balloon leaking air. He sulked in his chair, his torso resembling a sinking ship. Beryl, a non-thinking person, did his thing for the day, smiled, and walked away from the table as if ess volt gornisht gevehn (nothing happened). Whenever someone approached his table, Lazer sank lower until he was barely visible.
Suddenly, a neighbor, one Harry (Hirchel) Zisponsky, walked to his table and sat next to him. Harry was a non-stop shmoozer. Doss hayst (that means) that he shifted conversation topics every other minute. He began discussing the happenings around town. There was no response from the saddened Lazer, so Harry began discussing how bar mitzvas were celebrated in the past.
“Remember bar mitzvas in the good old days?” said Harry. “We fressed gefilteh fish and a little cholent with a seltzer to wash it all down, and that was it!”
His next question indicated that perhaps he was sent to this table by a good malach (angel), because he pointed to Lazer’s suit and asked, “Who wore such lavish suits in those days?”
Lazer smiled and perked up, his festive mood returned. Next, he raised his cup and called out “Lechayim.” With renewed vigor, he joined in the dancing and enjoyed the presentations. Then he wished the celebrants a hearty mazel tov and he went home with his good wife Shayndel. Discussing the affair with her, her question was, “Zog meer (tell me), what did people think of your new suit?”
“To tell you the truth,” responded Lazer, “Nisht ah hin, nisht ah hare.”
Story #2
Nachum Applebaum had an honorable but unappreciated profession. He was rebbi at the Gehenemy School for Batlonim. One fateful day, Nachum decided to give his students a special treat. He took them to a ballgame starring the Baltimore Orioles, who were playing their traditional arch enemy, the New York Yankees.
The upcoming batter was one Bart (Bartholomew) Goyschmidt, who swung at the ball with super gusto. The ball flew into the stands, and it was a grand slam. It was good luck for Bart but fahrzets teh (rotten) mazel for Nachum. “Fahrvoss – why? you may ask. Is der enfehr (the answer is) because the ball struck Nachum’s head, and he zapped out, so to speak!
An ambulance was summoned, and the paramedics inquired whether Nachum could move his arms and legs. He was dazed and reverted to his mameh loshon (Yiddish), which he used whenever there was a crisis in his life.
Prior to moving him, the paramedics asked, “How are you feeling?” His response was, “Nisht ah hin, nisht ah hare.” Next, they asked him more questions. Here is a partial list:
- What is your name? Nachum ben Meyer.
- When were you born? The third day in Sivan.
- Where do you live? Ihn Hamerika.
- What day of the week is this? Erev Shabbis.
- Names of your children? Shyeh, Yosseleh, Mireleh, Faigeleh and Yukeleh.
- What do you do for a living? Ah melahmed –voss noch (what else)?
- Where are you? Ihn drerd (on the ground).
- How do you feel right now? Nisht ah hin, nisht ah hare.
Stymied by his answers, the medics ceased their questioning and were surprised when Nachum suddenly reverted to English by asking, “Can I keep the baseball? Convinced that he was recovered, they released him.
And yes, he kept the baseball.
Story #3
Beryl Grepsky was a baker for the Zoyerbroyt Bakery, which was located in an industrial section of the city. He arose early in the morning to bake his pastry and bread. One morning Beryl arrived at the bakery and noticed that some of the bakery equipment and a sack of flour were missing. He searched the area like a pre-Pesach Yid searches for chometz, but the missing items were gone with the wind.
He called the management, and they told him to purchase new equipment. After the equipment finally arrived, he resumed baking. The following week, life began in normal fashion until Beryl arrived at the bakery. Now the breads were missing!
Beryl’s thoughts were confusing. On the one hand, he wanted to capture and jail the robbers. On the other hand, who steals bread in such a rich nation! Voss gayt awn –what’s going on? he thought.
In the afternoon, a young couple entered the store, and Beryl soon noticed that they were shoving pastry into their coat pockets. He made what is called a “citizen’s arrest” (which is not recommended to do to persons prone to violence).
The police were notified, and the couple was arrested and charged with theft.
Soon they faced a judge, who reviewed the case. He studied the appearance of the two ragged defendants and uttered that he found them guilty. However, he gave them a light sentence. They were ordered to work in a bakery for the next five months.
Beryl, who attended the trial, felt sorry for the couple, but when he heard the sentence, his reaction was nisht ah hin, nisht ah hare. On the one hand, so to speak, he felt sorry for them because of their poverty. On the other hand, he believed that the punishment was too light and the crimes would be repeated.
So now, dear reader, you hopefully understand the presented expression, and I hope that your response is not nisht ah hin, nisht ah hare!
