A Kettlehole Pond in Chatham, Massachusetts

An early morning walk around School House Pond, a kettle hole pond in Chatham, Massachusetts.  Photo by Marash Girl

Most folks go to Chatham for the beaches; Marash Girl's favorite spot in Chatham is School House Pond, a jewel hidden away from the crowds of summer.  Although there are private homes built all around the pond, they are invisibly set at the top of the surrounding hillside.  A small, sandy beach at one end of the pond, a beach with a life guard during the summer months, allows for little children to play, fish, and swim safely at the pond's edge. 

Left by the melting ice sheet of nearly 15,000 years ago, this kettle hole pond remains the perfect summer swimming hole, and if you don't care to get wet, or you don't know how to swim, during most summers, the pond is low enough to allow you a one mile walk around its perimeter; twice around and you're set for the day!

                        http://www.mychatham.com/schoolhousepond.html

Walking through the hallowed halls of MIT

Walking through the hallowed halls of MIT for the first time, Peter looked up and saw an older gentleman walking towards him.

"Hello," greeted Peter with a smile.

The older gentleman stopped in his tracks, stared at Peter, and said, "Do I know you?"

That was back in the 1960's.  Have things changed since?

Family Feud at Market Basket

A favorite stop for Cape Codders driving onto the Cape -- first exit off the Sagamore Bridge -- is Market Basket,  a grocery store where folks stock up for the week with the freshest produce and products at the most reasonable prices on the Cape.  This joy has been clouded by the family feud presently taking place between two Arthurs -- Arthur T. Demoulas and Arthur S. Demoulas --  first cousins -- who are fighting for control of the  very popular long-time family-owned Market Basket Supermarket chain based north of Boston.  At the moment, Arthur T. is on the outs but is strongly supported by a vast majority of the supermarket employees, as evidenced by these photos taken by Marash Girl yesterday at the Market Basket in Sagamore, Massachusetts.  Much of the Cape Cod community is praying for peace among the cousins.

Sagamore Bridge Market Basket Employees show support for ousted Arthur T. Demoulas

 

 "We are all family!  This is so sad!" said one of the employees, carrying the above sign outside of  the Sagamore, Massachusetts' Market Basket today.

 Inside the Store

Boston Globe's article on Market Basket feud on display at front of store.

 Outside the Store

"We Support Arthur T."   At the Entrance to the Market Basket, Sagarmore Bridge, Cape Cod, Massachusetts    "Store 69"

A Card from the Past

The other day, at the  OldCornerBooks.com storage facility, Marash Girl's young assistant Ethan found a 3"x5" card inside of one of the books he was shelving.  "What's this?"  he asked.  Marash Girl started laughing.  "That's a library catalogue card.  In the old days (not so old), every library had rooms filled with cases filled with drawers filled with thousands of those cards, several cards for every book in the library -- filed once under the author's last name, once under the title, once or twice or thrice under the subject heading -- oh, and the number?  That's a number in the Dewey Decimal System, an internationally used system that allows you to find that book in any library in the world that uses that system -- if, of course, the library has the book. If you wanted to find a book, you'd have to let your feet do the walking through the room full of card catalogue cases, so that your fingers could do the walking through the alphabetically arranged cards in the drawers of the cases of the catalogue, and the walk through the library until to find the number on the book that you seek.  When the card is slipped inside of the book, it indicates that that book has been withdrawn from the library.  

"Really?" laughed Ethan.

Tinking? Just rip it out!

Remember "a tinker, a tailor, a knitter, a sailor"?  No?  That's because Marash Girl just made up the last two words in the old nursery rhyme in order to introduce you to a new concept -- no, not a new concept, a new word -- no, not a new word, but an old word applied to an old concept that makes knitting more complicated than it need be!  According to a recent internet posting, tinking for the knitter means knitting backwards, a method of undoing stitch by stitch a row of knitting in order to repair an error that has been made (most likely by you) earlier in the row.  For Marash Girl (and, yes, you can assume here that Marash Girl knits), if the error occurred near the beginning of the row, it's easier just to rip out the whole row, error automatically corrected, (sort of like erasing a line of writing that doesn't sound right rather than trying to correct one word in the line)  and replace the stitches recently removed from your needle back on to the needle, or, continuing the metaphor of writing, simply starting from the end of the last sentence and rewriting the whole sentence. [Would that we could do this with our lives, right?]  Tinking probably has its origins in the word tinkering, the act of trying to repair something.  You Latin scholars out there:  have fun with waxing eloquent on this one!

Brewer Eddy, The American Board of Foreign Missions, and Grandpa Moses' Pool Room

The kids never knew growing up why we had a pool table in our basement -- the sounds of the billiard balls knocking against each other, the laughter and conversation of the pool players -- all lulling us to sleep in our bedroom situated directly above the gaiety.  All of these memories surfaced when, yesterday, Marash Girl found a copy of What Next In Turkey: Glimpses of the American Board's Work in the Near East, a book written by Brewer Eddy and published in 1913, just before the Genocide of the Armenians in the Ottoman Empire. What Next In Turkey: Glimpses of the American Board's Work in the Near East  tells of the Christian missionary work of the American Board of Foreign Missions among the Armenians in Eastern Anatolia early in the 20th Century.

Brewer Eddy, the author of What Next In Turkey, was a household word at 474 Lowell Avenue.  Peter always referred to Brewer Eddy's assistance in settling the Bilezikian family in Newton, Massachusetts, in helping Grandpa Moses set up his pool room on Washington Street in Newtonville.  years before folks had automobiles, when pool was a game for the wealthy and most folks of means had a pool table on their third floor. (For proof, visit the pool table on the third floor of the Mark Twain House in Connecticut.) [It is interesting to note that Uncle Paul quickly became an expert at pool; he played for the house, as it were, until he learned that his cousin Krikor was gambling on him (and always winning) . . . at which point Paul never again played pool for the house in his father's pool hall.]

What Next In Turkey: Glimpses of the American Board's Work in the Near East is now listed for sale at OldCornerBooks.com.

Searching for Grape Leaves

In the old days, we would know when it was time to pick those grape leaves . . . Mommy would simply say, I'm going to make sarma today.  Could you go out and gather some yaprak for me?  just had to walk out into our back yard and there they were.

And then there were 20 acres on the top of Wilbraham Mountain, with not a grape leaf in sight!  But all one had to do was bop down to the Wilbraham Public Library parking lot, and there along the border were yards of grape leaves!  There were, that is, until the landscaping bug of Wilbraham fame destroyed all of the "wild growth" along the border.

It's been years since Marash Girl has picked grape leaves, but last week, walking along the Charles River, and certainly very late in the season (grape leaves should be gathered in June, NOT late July when they toughen up), there were the perfect grape leaves -- young and tender, NOT white backed, perfect size for making sarma or yalanchi.  A big thank you to whoever planted those grapevines -- man or bird -- a thank you for that gift from the past.

Have you started bumping yet?

The fist bump!  Bumping and explosion, bumping and flying away . . . Like clinking glasses without the glass and the clink!  AND . . . the cause for conversation, laughter, and good health!  Forget shaking hands!

Armenians come in all colors!

At a recent dinner held at the NEHGS on Newbury Street in Boston, the woman sitting at table to the right of Marash Girl looked at Marash Girl's name tag and asked, "Are you really Armenian?"  "Yes," answered Marash Girl, "But why do you ask?" "You're so light!" answered Marash Girl's new acquaintance.  Marash Girl just laughed and said, "Armenians come in all colors!"

Retelling this story to a neighbor, Marash Girl received the following reply: "Well, your face is very pale for an Armenian!"

What could Marash Girl say to that?

God says, "I'll see you in about 97 years!"

Marash Girl met Hovhannes Garabedian, her long-time neighbor on Lowell Avenue (and apparently distant relative),  in the parking lot of Whole Foods yesterday.

He started chatting about life when he used to live in Aleppo in his teens, about 50 years ago.  He remembered that whenever Israeli planes flew overhead, he and the Armenians in his neighborhood would wake up in the morning to find a curved sword painted over the top of their front door with a cross painted under it -- a sword and cross painted with blood red paint. When he went to the police, they said,  "You know it's just the charajijis -- the folks that want to start trouble.  You know your neighbors don't feel that way."

Talking further, Hovhannes remembered that his grandmother,  Lucia Der Hohanessian (nee Bilezikjian) used to say, "You know what they say whenever a Bilezikjian son is born?  "God says to the baby boy, I'll see you in about 97 years!"  He went on:  "You're father died at around 97, right?  Do you remember when Uncle Levon Bilezikian was getting prepared to marry for the second time, in his 70's? I questioned him about the wisdom of marrying at that age and Uncle Levon answered, "You know what they said in Marash whenever a Bilezikian son was born? God says to the baby boy, I'll see you in about 97 years!  I have a good 27 years more to go!"  And he did!

When the Armenians left Marash . . .

Marash Boy's grandmother (Turvant Dakessian Sanjian, born in Marash, fled the genocide and arrived in Springfield, Massachusetts, in 1922) used to say (in the Marash Turkish dialect),
Ermeniler getdi, Marash öyle durdu. 

Translation:
When the Armenians left Marash, Marash stood still.
She had a very polite way of saying things!

Marash Girl walked into a bar . . . again . . .

Marash Girl walked into a bar in Watertown, Massachusetts, yes, the very bar that has the Irish Flag hanging next to the Armenian flag: Donohue's.  And there she met the owner of the bar,  AND the nephew of the man about whom her father,   Peter, often related the following story:

When the Armenians first came to this country fleeing the genocide, they needed work, and work they found at the Watertown Hood Rubber, but there were so many Armenians who needed work, and so few who had enough language to find that work!  (For those of you who want to know more, see Marashtsi Roger Hagopian's film on Hood Rubber.)  

Peter told the following bitter-sweet tale about a fellow Armenian recently arrived from Marash, an immigrant with very little English, a man needing a job who came to Peter with his tale of woe.

Dedim,

"'Benim uçun, I don't care.  Çocuklar evde acukdan gebeyorlar. Give me job.'  That's English, ain't it?"

"Absolutely,"  Peter answered, laughing.

Translation?

"I told them, 'For my sake, I don't care, but my children at home are dying of hunger.  Please give me a job!'"

N.B. The grand nephew of this man who was so concerned about his children is today a professor at a prestigious university in the Boston area.

Are you using your noodle?

"Are you using your noodle?" asked the fellow who was treading water in the indoor swimming pool of the YMCA yesterday,  a question that startled Marash Girl.  How rude, she thought  . . . speaking to a stranger like that!  Pausing a moment, she realized that the fellow was asking about the long yellow float (or swimming pool noodle) that she was carrying for exercising in the YMCA swimming pool . . . not her noodle (brain) of Newton grammar school fame!

California Desert Big Horned Sheep Golf with the Wealthy

Endangered California Desert Big Horned Sheep live on Siilver Rock Mountain;  there are only 14 on the mountain and three of the fourteen are shown here at the base of the mountain,  golfing with the wealthy on Silver Rock Golf Course.                                    Photo courtesy of Marash Martha

Springfield, Massachusetts' Tech High, Class of 1954, meet again after 60 years!

All women, the "Big Band" entertains Springfield and the Class of '54 on Saturday night at the Springfield Armory.

Springfield Tech Class of '54 picnic at King Philip's Stockade, Forest Park, Longmeadow, Massachusetts.

 It took Marash Boy an hour to find the place, though he grew up not two miles from King Philip's Stockade.  When Marash Girl asked him why he couldn't find the place, he said,  "All the guys used to go necking there in high school: I never did!"  Did Marash Girl believe him?

The class had Sunday lunch at the Hilton Garden Inn.

Page from Tech High 1954 Yearbook

Excerpt from Tech High 1954 Yearbook

Stairway to Nowhere, Newton Corner, Massachusetts

Stairway to Nowhere #1

Stairway to Nowhere, #2

Bostonians and Suburban Bostonians: Trying to get an express bus pass for the MBTA?

You'd better set out early in the day . . . It's a long, long way away.  No longer at the convenient Copley stop, you now have to go all the way in to Downtown Crossing Station, (at least a half mile walk from where the Downtown Bus leaves you off), walk down several steep flight of stairs (that is, if you're walking) -- and then walk about a half mile in dimly lit underground subway tunnels to the place where you stand in line for a half hour (if you can still stand by then) to get your photo taken and renew your pass.  Otherwise,  somehow, you'll have to  get to a place where there's a subway stop and an elevator that works . . .  but still the long walk . . . no more easy rides on the bus to purchase your bus pass at street level! And if you're a Senior Citizen, you may never be able to ride on a bus again, unless you get your grand kids to hustle in to town and get you one of those Senior Citizen passes -- which, by the way are only good for so many years; the older you get, the worse it's gonna be . . . AND you have to be there in person to get the pass, so grand kids are of no help.  Good luck, you elder citizens who live in the suburbs of Boston!

"Wake Up and Die RIght!"

Suddenly, out of Marash Girl's mouth, came the rather curt expression, "Wake up and die right!"  Wherever did that come from?  From years ago when she attended Frank Ashley Day Junior High School?  Crude as it may seem, the kids were always saying that to each other, meaning, "Get it right, kid!"  during a time, a junior high school time, when it didn't pay to be different, to speak as an individual, an individual that differed from the crowd, a time when kids were learning what the term "personality" meant!  In fact, Marash Girl had never heard the word "personality" before 7th grade, where, during social studies class, she learned how important it was to have a "good personality" .  Her classmates made sure to keep each other on the right path, for if they strayed, they were told to straighten up, or, in the vernacular of the day, to "wake up and die right!"

Where are the police when you need them?

 Overheard:

Where are the police when you need them?
In line at Dunkin' Donuts, waiting to buy a cup of coffee.

Actually, Marash Girl would like to differ with the overheard quip quoted above, because in Newton, the police are always there when you need them! In fact, this year Newton, Massachusetts, was ranked fifth among the safest mid-sized cities in the United States.  Marash Girl herewith sends her thanks and appreciation to the police force and the firemen of Newton, Massachusetts, for keeping safe the city that welcomed her father and his family when they arrived in 1922, fleeing from the horrors of genocide, to Newton, Massachusetts, the city of her birth, the city in which she grew up, the city that she loves.

Adam and Eve a la Newtonville Avenue's Sidewalk Artists

Detail of above sidewalk drawing: Eve

Detail of above sidewalk drawing:  Adam

From the gutters of Wilbraham, to the Hallowed Halls of Houston

Years ago, yardsaling in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, Marash Girl found a broken up chair in the gutter alongside the house that was having the yard sale.  Knowing that her father loved to tinker and rebuild furniture (he had built his own glass fronted bookcase in junior high school, and a man-sized oak desk in high school), she asked the proprietor of the yard sale if the chair pieces were being trashed.  Oh, yes, said the woman; that chair belonged to my old aunt -- it's broken to pieces -- that's for the trash man.  May I take it? Marash Girl asked her.  Of course, replied the woman from Wilbraham, all too happy to clean up the gutter in front of her perfect Cape house.  Marash Girl dutifully gathered all of the pieces and brought them to Newtonville to present to her father and sure enough, her father was thrilled;  soon he rebuilt the chair to its original dimensions and had his artist friend -- the friend that painted his portrait on the day of his 90th birthday -- carefully restore the painting that was on the upper back strut of the chair.  Marash Girl treasured that chair in her home until Karoun asked if she could take that old black chair with her to her new apartment in Houston.  Sure, enough, the chair went along with Karoun, a reminder of her home in Newton, Massachusetts.  And it took her Texan landlord to recognize the chair for what it was:  "That's a real antique . . . a very early Massachusetts chair," he told her.  "Value it!" 

Whatever happened to that chair, anyway?

Topping Off the High Rise with a Tree . . . .

Walking across Brookline Avenue towards Yawkey Way (on her way to buy Red Sox tickets, of course),  Marash Girl was distracted by a tree and two flags waving high above her, at the very top of a high rise under construction.  According to Marash Boy, this is the custom in Massachusetts, whenever a high rise building has reached the top.  Does the custom exist in your country? state? city?

"Topping Off" high above Brookline Avenue, Boston

Show Me The Way To Go Home!

Anyone who knows Marash Girl knows that she doesn't touch alcohol; everyone who knows Marash Girl knows that one of her favorite songs,  is Show Me The Way To Go Home (words and music by Irving King), a song that she'll belt out at any given moment!  Why it's a favorite, she does not know; when she started singing it, she does not know, though she suspects it was on the bus during F.A.Day Jr. High School field trips.  All she knows for sure is that she has never heard the song sung by professionals, nor has she ever seen the music . . . never, that is, until today, when she was listing sheet music for sale [sheet music that she had recently purchased from a century old music store.] The lyrics to the chorus are exactly as she sings them! The piece was copyright in 1925 in England with a USA copyright of 1952, which is probably just around the time Marash Girl first heard the song!

[N.B. The sheet music is now listed for sale at OldCornerBooks.com.]

Whoops!  Forgot the most important thing: the lyrics to the chorus!  Here they are!

Show me the way to go home!
I'm tired and I want to go to bed.
Well, I had a little drink about an hour ago, and it went straight to my head . ..
Wherever I may roam; on land or sea or foam. . .
You will always hear me singing this song!
"Show me the way to go home!"

Two Gloves, Two Stories

In Marash Girl's youth, there were two gloves and two stories.

When Marash Girl first went out with Marash Boy, it was a cold autumn day in Harvard Square. They were walking through the Square, heading for a concert of kanoun music.  When Marash Girl told Marash Boy she was cold, he offered her his gloves!

At another time, Marash Girl was going out with a fellow she wasn't that keen on, even though he was Marashtsi! [Clearly this person was NOT Marash Boy!]  When he tried to hold her hand, she pulled her hand away, and he was left holding the glove!

What did she say?

Walking along the Charles River yesterday with Marash Boy, Marash Girl passed three older women who were vociferously chatting away in Russian.  "What did she say?" asked Marash Girl.  Marash Boy laughed and replied, "The woman said,  'She said, he said, she said!'  What did you expect her to be saying?"

Maryland's Community Mediation Hits the Air Waves

The following special was recently aired on  ABC2 News | WMAR-TV Baltimore

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyvA7H4PRMU&feature=youtu.be

The Community Mediation Program in Baltimore, Maryland, was founded 19 years ago by Lorig Charkoudian while she was still in graduate school at Johns Hopkins University.  Lorig and CMP were key players in founding Community Mediation Maryland, spreading the movement across the state.  CMM "advances collaborative conflict resolution throughout Maryland, educating the public, providing training and quality assurance, conducting research, and creatively applying mediation to social challenges." . . .and, Marash Girl will add, saving lives.

Congratulations to all of you at Community Mediation Maryland. Marash Girl supports your efforts whole-heartedly. You, Lorig, and your colleagues, are your generation's commitment to living the Word of the Lord.

An App or a Map?

Visiting Blogger Barley Jim writes, "So there I was in a large chain sandwich shop.  I asked a young cashier if there was a map for all of the locations of this chain.  A young coworker said, "Yes, we have an app!"  to which I replied, "I am sure that you have an app. I asked for a map!" 

Generational miscommunication????

Happy Independence Day!

What act of independence in the United States of America are we actually celebrating on July 4th?  Scroll down and fill in the answer in your comment below, and join Marash Girl in celebrating our Fourth of July.

Walking along the Charles River on a Sunny Afternoon.

Two  for the price of one -- Bridge over the Charles River late on a summer's afternoon - Photo  credit: Marash Girl; photo suggested by Marash Boy as we passed the bridge:  "Look -- there's a picture for you!"

Night Heron fishing in the afternoon on the Newton side of the Charles River

More water fountains?

Taken from Lorig's Facebook page . . .

I'm laying next to Raffi in bed and he's asking about money and why we use it. I attempt to explain my (weak) understanding of human history as it relates to money. The lesson is followed by this exchange.

Raffi: I don't think people should have to pay for houses, food, and clothes. Because if one person doesn't have money, then their kids won't have money, then their grandkids won't have money. And it won't be fair for all of them.
Me: Yes, Raffi. It is very unfair.
Raffi: Can you protest that?
I fumbled through an explanation of possible policy changes that could make sense for an 8 year old.

Raffi: If you can't change that law, can you at least put water fountains every where so everyone can have water to drink?

What's for supper?

What's for supper?  So asked Marash Boy of Marash Girl as she headed out the door.

Oh, there's some homemade chicken broth in the fridge, and some home made macaroni and cheese left over from the other day.  If you throw those in a pot with the small can of tomato sauce that's on the shelf across from the stove, you'll have a delicious supper!

As it turned out, Marash Boy loved the first supper he ever "threw together" on his own!

Rev. Gilbert Bilezikian, Guest Preacher at Armenian Memorial Church

Rev. Gilbert Bilezikian, great-grandson of Rev. Sarkis Bilezikian (the first minister of the Armenian protestant church in Marash, Ottoman Empire), and nephew of Rev. Vartan Bilezikian (first minister of the United Armenian Bretheren Evangelical Church of Watertown, Massachusetts), spoke to the congregation of the Armenian Memorial Church in Watertown, Massachusetts, yesterday.  "Being a Christian is not a matter of a one time decision; it is a lifetime commitment."  Rev. Bilezikian, Baptist minister and Professor at Wheaton College, Wheaton, Illinois, was among the founders of Christians for Biblical Equality and has authored numerous books, among them Beyond Sex Roles: What the Bible Says about a Woman's Place in Church and Family.

Fossil Collecting at Calvert Cliffs, Maryland

A beautiful Saturday in June -- sunny, not a cloud in the sky -- and nothing 

scheduled -- what could be nicer than going sailing . . . What?  You don't have a sailboat?

How about yard-sailing!  That's what Marash Girl did yesterday, and the excursion brought her to within a mile of the house where she grew up . . . 

At that yard sale, Marash Girl spied three rocks . . . they looked like heart rocks, but not quite. . . "What are those?" Marash Girl asked the 'proprietress' of the yard sale.  "Oh, those are clam fossils," she answered.  "Where do they come from?" MG asked.  "They're from a beach in Maryland."   "Really?" Marash Girl exclaimed; "many years ago, I gathered fossils of shark's teeth on a beach in Maryland at the base of a cliff."  "That's exactly where I found these . . . while I was hunting for shark's teeth at the base of a cliff on a beach in Maryland.  I used to live in Maryland and we went hunting for shark's teeth all the time!  I have a bottle full of shark's teeth inside.  They're not for sale, but these clam fossils are. . . " 

Marash Girl checked with Matt (a native of Maryland who, by the way, found an Indian arrowhead when he was visiting Wilbraham after the tornado) and learned that the place that both the proprietress of the yard sale and Marash Girl had gone fossil hunting was probably Calvert Cliffs in Maryland, which is where the clam shell fossils you see below were found.

Clam shell fossils from Calvert Cliffs, Maryland, in their new home, snuggled in a flower pot
with a baby plant on Marash Girl's front porch.  Photo by Marash Girl

Through the eyes of an adult . . . JERSEY BOYS - a must see . . .

'Jersey Boys . . . You must see it,' reports Marash Martha. . .  'Any film that Clint Eastwood does is not to be missed! It's about Frankie Valli (who, 37 years ago, at an intersection in Sherman Oaks, asked me how to get to the airport)!'  She writes, 'As I recall, he really wanted to say hi to my three beautiful daughters; then after asking for directions to LAX, he asked, "Don't you know who i am?  I'm Frankie Valli and I am performing in Las Vegas"!  I had no idea who he was, but my three daughters knew exactly who he was and started singing his famous song, SHERIE!'

And more recently, Marash Martha's daughter Ali reports that she often sees Frankie Valli at the supermarket in Sherman Oaks!  What does she say about him?  "He's short!"

Marash Girl must head out to her local movie theatre to see JERSEY BOYS, a film that WBUR's HERE & NOW thought well of . . . well enough to interview Jersey Boys'  star performer, John Lloyd Young (who called Robin Young his "sister") . . . John Lloyd Young, the actor who took Jersey Boys from Broadway to the screen.  Great interview -- listen to it before you head out to see the movie!

Through the eyes of a child . . .

Grandmother:  Stop dirtying that window with your sticky fingers!

Grandchild:  I'm not dirtying the window!  I'm drawing a picture on the window with yogurt!

Along the Massachusetts Turnpike: Newton Corner Rabbit heads for the Briar Patch

                                                                 Photo by Marash Girl

The Solace of Sidewalk Art

                                                                                         Photo by Marash Girl

When utility companies leave unsightly arrows on sidewalks in front of our homes,   little children  respond in a kindly manner . . .

Grapefruit a la 1940's

Watching her husband peel a grapefruit for breakfast, Marash Girl remembered her mother, Jennie, patiently preparing grapefruit for each member of the family. Preparing grapefruit for a family of five was no mean feat at 6:30 in the morning.  There was the cutting of three grapefruit in half (halved so that the surface of each side of the grapefruit resembled the spokes of a wheel) --  Jennie would use a grapefruit knife (have you ever seen one? -- flexible, short, and serrated on each side), to separate the fruit segments from the membrane, leaving the wedges of fruit inside of their little grapefruit pockets, then carefully placing the halved grapefruits in bowls, one for each member of the family. The breakfasters would proceed to sprinkle sugar on their grapefruit halves and eat -- never with a grapefruit spoon with which one could expeditiously serrate the corners of ones lips -- but with spoons small enough to remove the grapefruit wedges that Grandma Jennie (then not yet a grandma) had lovingly prepared.

Plum Island Diner - Service with a Snicker!

In the late 1960's,  Marash Girl and Haig (just off the bus from New York City) took a day trip to Plum Island, a beautiful beach on Massachusetts' North Shore.   Hungry and thirsty after a long walk along the beach, they found a diner at the beginning of the road leading to the southern tip of  the island, (the road that now leads to the federally owned stretch of the beach).  Happy to find a place to quench their thirst, they took two seats at the counter and ordered 2 tuna fish sandwiches (Marash Girl's favorite at the time) and 2 Cokes.  As the young people awaited their meal, they heard the folks behind the counter talking in Armenian -- talking about Marash Girl and her friend in a running commentary that was far from flattering.  Little did they realize that Marash Girl with her long light  hair and long skirt and Haig's long droopy moustache and "hippy" attire did not keep the two "tourists" from understanding the language of their people.  It was all that Haig and Marash Girl could do to keep from laughing.  Finally, having finished their meal, paying the bill, the two turned to the folks behind the counter and said, in perfect Armenian, "Thank you so much for the meal and the compliments!"  

The moral of the story?

Bicycle Built for Two

Save energy . . .  Ride a bike . . . Save more energy  . . . Ride a Bicycle Built for Two!

Peter used to love to sing this song when his kids were growing up . . . and what fun it is to sing!

The lyrics, simple and true, go something like this:

Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer, do.

I'm half crazy, all for the love you you.

We won't have a stylish marriage.

I can't afford a carriage.

But you'll look sweet, upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.

This vintage sheet music, brand new from a  recently closed century old music store, is available for purchase at OldCornerBooks.com.

Can environment save the self? Can environment damage the self?

'Late in Elizabeth Graver’s eloquent new novel, a therapist warns a very troubled young man against what he calls the “geographic” cure: “You can’t fix yourself by going somewhere else. . . . You’ll always take yourself along.”' [Alida Becker in her 2013 New York Times review of Elizabeth's Graver new novel, The End of the Point.]

Even earlier than that Jon Kabat-Zinn wrote Wherever You Go There You Are!

And even earlier than that, Peter Bilezikian mouthed the same philosophy!  

Marash Girl disagrees!  

Environment can not only change the self, but it can save the self!

Plant your Daffodils among your Day Lilies

Rather than wrapping your daffodil leaves up into a bundle when the daffodils have passed, plant your daffodils among your day lilies -- the daffodils will bloom first, adding vibrant color to the beautiful patch of green leaves, and the always green leaves of the day lilies will hide the unsightly yellowing leaves of the daffodils after the daffodils bloom . . . (Not cutting the daffodil leaves back will allow the strength of the leaves to go back into the daffodil bulbs for the next year's beautiful daffodils). Never again will you worry about the unsightly brown leaves of the beautiful daffodils!  (Thanks to Newton's master gardener Pat Rand for the tip!)

Scratch Your Nasturtium Seeds!

Wandering along Newtonville Avenue, admiring the gardens on a day that was soon to be 85 degrees, Marash Girl chatted up gardening with whomever she saw kneeling in front of their houses  . . . as there were no statues, and no altars in sight, Marash Girl assumed (as it turns out, correctly) that the folks kneeling were gardeners . . . one such kneeler, after talking gardening, offered Marash Girl a package of Nasturtium seeds, cautioning her that she should scratch the seeds before planting. . . Marash Girl thought the kneeler was joking, but sure enough, on the back of every package, Burpee announces, "To aid in germination, rub seed with nail file."  Marash Girl wondered about that.  She had planted nasturtiums aplenty in her childhood, but never thought to use a nail file . . . 

Jig Saw Puzzling

Marash Girl has the fondest memories of jig saw puzzles -- they bring to mind a big old Victorian summer house built of unpainted weathered wood, a summer house in Wellfleet, Massachusetts, Cape Cod -- few windows made for dark, cool rooms and in the midst of the central room was a "bridge" table covered with a jig saw puzzle waiting to be completed -- a puzzle to be worked on by the summer dwellers when the weather turned cold, the day dark, the clouds heavy with rain .  .  .  Time stretching out with no end . . . Time to dream, time to think, time to walk the beach, time to chat, time to . . .  work on a jig saw puzzle!  There was no television in the house, no radio, no telephone, certainly no computer, nor cell phone.  And one could take such pleasure in the small accomplishment of finding one tiny piece that fit -- the smallest of accomplishments, no witnesses, no praise  . . . just the puzzle and you.

And so it was that when Marash Girl found herself in Stowe, Vermont, at the beginning of a week that promised rain every day, she (as you may have learned from reading her earlier blog posts this month) decided to begin a jig saw puzzle.  Stopping at the gift shop (before, of course, she had tried the local yard sales where she found two jigsaw puzzles "with no pieces missing" -- Hah!), the salesperson commented, "We have one that's 35 pieces . . . How large to do you want it?"  Marash Girl answered, "About 500 pieces?"

"500 pieces?  500 pieces?" scoffed a customer from the far corner of the shop;  "I'm working on one that's 1500 pieces!"

Marash Girl started counting . . . hmmm.  1500 pieces, at 1 piece a day . . . that would take about 4 years and 3 months to complete;  2 pieces a day, 2 years and 1.5 months to complete; 3 pieces a day, 1 year and 20 days; 4 pieces a day, 1 year and 15 days; 5 pieces a day, 300 days to complete; 6 pieces a day, 250 days to complete; 7 pieces a day 214 1/3 days; 8 pieces a day would take 187 days plus 1/2 a day. 9 pieces a day, 166 days plus 2/3 of a day.  10 pieces a day, 150 days . . .  Would that the man had helpers, or a lot of time!  He must have thought that in Stowe, it rains forever!

Long, Long Ago

Long, Long Ago

Appearing magically in a pile of sheet music that Marash Girl had purchased for resale from a century old music store was the original sheet music (without lyrics) "transcribed for pianoforte" of a song that Marash Girl's father used to love to sing, (though admittedly, he remembered only the first verse, more than Marash Girl remembers).   Do you, dear reader, remember the tune?  If so, you can sing along.  Here are the lyrics Marash Girl found on the internet.

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear
Long, long ago, long, long ago
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear
Long, long ago, long ago.

Now you are come all my grief is removed
Let me forget for how long you have roved
Let me believe that you love as you loved
Long, long ago, long ago.

Do you remember the path where we met
Long, long ago, long, long ago
Ah yes, you told me you ne'er forget
Long, long ago, long ago.

Then, to all others, my smile you preferred
Love, when you spoke, gave a charm to each word
Still my heart treasures the praises I heard
Long, long ago, long ago.

"They couldn't destroy the mountain."

On Saturday evening, June 14, 2014, noted historian Richard Hovannisian, presenting at the Armenian Museum of America in Watertown, Massachusetts, commented, "I thought I could never go to the land of my people -- the Armenian people -- it would be too sad for me.  But I finally did go."   Speaking about the once Armenian city of Gesaria and its many villages, villages which surround Mt. Argeos -- a mountain of 13,000 feet, snow-covered year round, Hovannisian emphasized the fact that each village had been a village unto itself -- with its own special character and its own style of speaking Armenian -- yet each village had been connected by its relationship to Mt. Argeos, a mountain that had always been there, will always be there.  Richard Hovannisian paused:

"They destroyed our churches, they destroyed our towns, but they couldn't destroy the mountain."

Newton Parks and Recreation First Annual Plant Exchange

Newton's First Annual Plant Exchange, a free event sponsored by the Newton Parks and Recreation Commission, took place on Saturday, June 14, in Newton Corner, Massachusetts.  A huge success, the event attracted gardening enthusiasts from all over the Garden City, folks  who exchanged plants, pots, gardening advice and plans for next year's swap.

Armenian Night at the Pops, June 2014 . . .

Blue Rondo a la Turk? Albeit a "World Premiere, commissioned by Keith Lockhart & the Boston Pops" (especially commissioned for Armenian Night at the Pops?) -- Brubeck-Brubeck not withstanding . . . was this some kind of a Joke? (Yes, Joke with a capital J!) Aman Asdvadz! 

Melissa Ethridge performing at Armenian Night at the Pops

Marash Girl had been invited to Boston's Symphony Hall to attend Armenian Night at the Pops, and there it was, second piece listed on the program. . .   Blue Rondo a la Turk  . . .   followed by  Stairway to Heaven and finally the Hayr Mer (The Armenian Lord's Prayer). . .  Deliberate? Accidental?  Whatever the intention, Marash Girl was not amused.  With no comment, the conductor verbally muddled his way through, juggling the program, with no comment on, and (gracias a Dios) no performance of Rondo a la Turk, the piece listed front and center on the program of the 63rd Armenian Night at the Pops. After all, it was Friday the 13th in June of 2014, a Friday the 13th with a full moon!

Saxophonist Hayrapet Arakelyan plays Tango Suite for Saxophone & Orchestra

 by Piazzollo-Kerkezos at Armenian Night at the Pops - Photos by Marash Girl

Apology Accepted

This past year, following a seminar on Turkey and Democracy at the Boisi Center (Boston College), Marash Girl was approached by a Kurdish woman, a graduate student at Boston College and a Turkish citizen who had suffered many indignities as a Kurd living in modern day Turkey.  The Kurdish woman hugged Marash Girl and, with tears in her eyes, apologized to Marash Girl for the part her people -- the Kurdish people -- had taken in the Genocide of the Armenian people  (1915-1923).

Coffee Shops of Old, Coffee Shops of New

People used to bring books to coffee shops to read, all cozy and comfy -- now they bring computers and stress!

Exhibit of American Quilts at the MFA Boston - A Must See!

Marash Girl's favorite quilt in the exhibit of American Quilts at the MFA Boston?  The quilt that contained the colors of an Eastern Anatolian flat-weave carpet, of course!!

Marash Nakhush - Embroidery from Marash at the Armenian Museum of America

Having been given the royal tour of the Armenian Museum of America (Watertown, MA) by Curator Gary Lind-Senanian -- as much of a gem as any of the gems in the cases --  Marash Girl was caught by the beauty of the 19th Century embroidery (probably a bed covering) from Marash -- embroidery done on hand woven cloth -- stitched crosses upon stitched crosses upon stitched crosses.  Marash Girl recognized the embroidery, of course, because she has a piece in that very style framed and hanging on the second floor wall of her Victorian home . . . She will picture her piece in a future post -- but for now, here is the piece of Marash Nakhush hanging on the wall of the Armenian Museum of America.

Closeup of a section of Marash Nakhush.

Reverse side of Marash Nakhush 

Marash Girl's photo does not give the piece the justice it deserves!

Embarrassing moments . . . or, All's Well That Ends Well (with apologies to Shakespeare)

At the entrance to Whole Foods, there stood a small boy, a man and a woman, all of whom appeared to be unrelated.  The woman was asking the man why he was trying to shepherd the  child to the store management.  The man explained that the little one was lost.  

"The little boy is not lost; he's  with me, shopping and helping me look for a carriage."

"Looking for a carriage?" said the man. "I thought he said he was looking for his parents!"

Lobster Pots in Marblehead, Massachusetts

Lobster traps getting ready for the season in Marblehead MA

Some local vines have taken up residence in the meantime...

Thanks to Visiting Blogger "La Niña" for the above photos and captions . . .

The Tuxedo Cat and the Wild Turkey

One thing that Stowe, Vermont and Newton Corner, Massachusetts share are tuxedo cats and wild turkeys.

Soon after Marash Girl made the acquaintance of Sam Von Trapp's tuxedo cat (scroll down to see yesterday's post on the subject), she looked out of her window to see that very same cat stalking an unperturbed wild turkey.  She watched the two animals closely; as the turkey was about to enter the forest, it turned toward the cat and "growled" a warning.  The cat literally stopped in its tracks while the wild turkey strolled into its forest.

Firstly, Marash Girl didn't know that wild turkey's could growl, and secondly, she certainly never thought that a cat would be frightened away by the likes of a wild turkey.

Chris Poacher, the erstwhile man about the mountain, one who knows all there is to know about wildlife, tame life, and mountain life in Vermont, answered the question.  Wild turkeys, he says, have spurs on the back of their legs with which to attack and do real damage to cats, among others.

No wonder Sam von Trapp's tuxedo cat stopped (thankfully, not dead) in its tracks!

 The Tuxedo Cat stalks the Wild Turkey - Trapp Family Lodge, Stowe, Vermont                                Photo by Marash Girl

The Tuxedo Cat at Trapp Family Lodge

While vacationing at the Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe, Vermont, Marash Girl received an unexpected phone call from the neighbor staying in the villa down the mountainside.  The woman at the other end of the line was desperate.  She cried out over the telephone:  "There's a tuxedo cat here.  Is it yours?  I've called everyone and I can't find its owner.  Somebody has abandoned this cat.  I know it! We summer on Cape May in New Jersey and folks are always abandoning their pets there.  The sea grass is full of feral cats.  And this is Friday; someone has left the Trapp Family Lodge and abandoned a tuxedo cat.  Please come and adopt it, please!"

Marash Girl replied:  "Have you called the main lodge to see if they know whose cat it is?"

Woman:  "No, I don't want to.  They'll send the cat away and it will be put to sleep.  No pets are allowed here!"

Marash Girl:  "I'll be right down to take a look."

When Marash Girl saw the beautiful, black, well-groomed, sleek tuxedo cat, she knew that the cat had not been abandoned, but her neighbor down the mountainside kept insisting that Marash Girl adopt the cat and take it home.  Marash Girl finally convinced the woman to call the main lodge.

The woman called, only to discover that the cat belonged to Sam Von Trapp, who had gone away for a few days and left the cat in the keeping of the lodge.

Thank goodness the woman had been unable to convince Marash Girl to "steal" Sam Von Trapp's beautiful tuxedo cat!

You'll Never Walk Alone

Fully aware of the Christian metaphor, Marash Girl has noticed that today's iPhones have given new meaning to the show tune, "You'll Never Walk Alone!" (from Rodgers and Hammerstein's 1945 musical, Carousel).

From Hussenig to Boston

His father had beaten him for carrying a bag in Hussenig; "That's what the servants are for."

Much later, in Boston, he admonished his daughter for "always carrying a bag" unless, of course, it was a "Designer" handbag!  That was okay!

Overheard at USPS

I'd like to buy some stamps -- do you have any movie stars . . . or nature?

-- Movie stars or nature stars?

-- No, just movie stars or nature. . .  No, I don't like Charlton Heston.

-- Well, who do you like?  Elizabeth Taylor?

-- No!  Audrey Hepburn . . .

The Black Tulip . . . er, The Partially Black Iris

Marash Girl had read about the rarity of the Black Tulip in Alexander Dumas' novel (adventure mystery, if she remembers correctly) entitled THE BLACK TULIP.  Thus it was with awe that she approached her garden yesterday afternoon to see a partially black iris in full bloom.