Wooden Spoon
I was very lucky growing up because no one ever spanked me. But Nagymama sure did threaten! Whenever I did anything out of line, she could grab a wooden spoon and wave it at me, or pretend that she was going to hit me with her “Papucs”.
So, one day, we had a Jehovah’s witnesses at the door, and as usual, my family felt guilty and let him in to give his monologue. I was playing with Barbie too loudly or something and everyone stopped in their tracks. Nagymama took one look at me and screamed, “Hol van a fa kanál?!” (“Where is the wooden spoon?”) A fairly normal threat to someone who speaks Hungarian, but this is what that sentence probably sounds like to an English speaker: “Holy one, oh fuckin’ hell!” He looked a little disturbed at Nagymama’s rants and promptly left.
A few weeks later, he rang our doorbell again, but this time, he brought backup – two more Jehovah’s witnesses. My mom whispered, “Stephie, go to the door and tell dem dat we are Jevish.”
I was confused.
“But, I thought we were Christian…”
“Yes, yes, but Jevish sounds more religious. It’s not possible to not be Jevish. So let’s pretend so dey don’t come back.”
Somehow I don’t think it was “being Jewish” that made them stop coming. It was probably that fa kanál.
Update: 3/3/10: So many people seem to relate to this story that I decided to make a T-shirt for anyone that would like to commiserate:
Previous Post: « Kristine’s Response Next Post: The Doll House »
Facebook comments:






LOL! Reminded me of my grandma who listens to an old old Hungarian song that starts with “Fa villa, fa kanál, fa tányér…”
Now why would someone start a song with “wooden fork, wooden spoon, wooden plate” and then change the subject in the next line to his lover? Many old Hungarian songs are like that. Like the one “Száz forintnak ötven a fele, egye meg a fészkes fekete fene…” which would translate to “Half of a hundred dollars is fifty” followed by an untranslatable (at least by me) colourful expletive…
Thanks for the stories — they are charming. At least to someone with a Nagymama.
Thank you so much
Oh, the folks songs, how very odd some of them were, but then again, my kindergarten teacher was always telling me that the dish ran away with the spoon..so I suppose it’s not that different from fa kanál, fa tányér.
I remember Nagy sang a lot of songs in hungarian..something about a macska (cat) laying down…Oh, it kills me that I just don’t remember. But one of the oddest things Nagymama ever sung was the “Obla-di-obla-da” song from the Beatles. I don’t think Nagy listened to rock & roll – I think she picked it up from listening to the theme song from that show from the 80′s “Life Goes On.” It was REALLY weird to see her play it on the piano….she played it with all these extra orchestral flourished like a church lady would.
Damn.
I totally forgot about that until just now.
I wish I had that on tape!!!
This story reminds me of my childhood. All my Hungarian mother would have to do was show me the fa kanál and I would immediately start to behave (or run away and lock myself in my room). It was that or the belt, but somehow I was never threatened with the papucs.
my mother threatened my brothers and I with a wooden spoon too.
except my brothers were really bad and got smacked with it a few times.
my brothers still cringe at the sight of wooden spoons.
That’s funny. I like to read this blog, you always make my day.
But I remember my cousin had a lot from her mom. Poor girl.
Thanks god, my mom never threatened me with fakanál. I was a good kid.
(fudge) I just deleted my whole thing I typed.. gawd i hate that crap!
okay, lets see if I can remember.
Okay, I actually did experience the wooden spoon.. on my ass for doing wrong. (don’t worry, this didn’t happen often).. anyway, onetime.. I had to have been 4 or 5, I told me my mom after she hit me with it.. “that didn’t even hurt!”.. well, she then went and got my dad’s belt.. and I began to cry,, it did hurt mom, it did hurt! (please don’t think I was an abused child.. normally she resorted to making us feel bad for what we did by calmly telling us how much it hurt her for what we did.. boy did i feel guilty for that, more than a wooden spoon!
m.
[...] Note: For those of you unfamiliar with the inside joke about the fakanál, click here. [...]