ABSTRACT
If Rip Van Winkle had slept a while longer—say, 200 years instead of 20, he would have really been amazed to see the dramatic change that had taken place around him. Sleepy hamlets would have turned into bustling towns; farming would have been mechanized; unbelievable horseless carriages would be puttering over hill and dale; and all sorts of newcomers would be coming into the area—including clusters of Yiddish-speaking city folks seeking respite from crowded tenements and musty factories. Needing to “take the air,” the Jewish sojourners would spend a few days or a week—or, perhaps, a fortnight—in old farmsteads turned into boarding houses or in places they called kuckaleyns, a “Yinglish” term for a room or set of rooms where you cooked for yourself.
