On Being Armenian in Spain

Contributing Blogger Nilla offers the following true story:

My grandparents, who were both Armenian, were adventurous travelers. Between World War II and the late 1970s, they drove their car all over Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East. In 1953, I think, they accompanied an American representative to Iran from Tehran to Cairo. What a trip that must have been. On one of their many trips, they were lost in the mountains of southern Spain. They drove and drove and finally saw a couple on the side of the road. They pulled over to ask for directions... First in English, then in French, then in Persian, then in Turkish. No use. They couldn't make themselves understood. They then switched to broken Arabic, broken Russian, broken German. Feeling that they were getting nowhere with this inquiry, my grandfather turned to my grandmother and said in Armenian, "Inch anenk, ban chen haskanoom?" (What shall we do?  They don't understand a thing!) to which the Spanish couple jumped and, in fluent Armenian, joyfully asked, "Amman, dook al hayek??"  (Oh my goodness! Are you also Armenian?)

On Being Armenian in Paris

Is this story apocryphal?  Marash Girl thinks not; she was told the story many years ago by a group of young Armenian men standing at the gate of the Armenian House, Cité Universitaire, speaking French and Armenian to each other on a sunny July afternoon in Paris.  A translation follows.

"So we were all standing here, chattering away in Armenian, telling jokes, and every time we came to the punch line, the black fellow across the way would start laughing.  We continued telling jokes, but  at every punch line, the black fellow would laugh.  We said to each other in Armenian,  "Who is that guy?  Every time we crack a joke, he laughs at the punch line. Is he crazy or what? (Khent e gam inch? Արդյոք  խենդ է  կամ ինչ?)

"On cue, the black fellow across the way called over to us in fluent Armenian: 'Ես ալ հայ եմ… Yes al Hay em! I'm Armenian, too!'"

Perk up that ho-hum chicken soup!

Perk up that ho-hum chicken soup! Try adding a dollop of rum.

Marash Martha swears by it! (Although she didn't reveal when she adds the rum:  whether just before she simmers the soup for an hour, or just before she serves the soup!)

"Don't Get Wise With Me, SIster!"

It was after Newton High School's dress rehearsal for 'Camelot', probably around 9 at night, many years ago.  Gil Bickum, Mark Golub, the stars of the show, and some of the other members of the cast and orchestra were in Mark Golub's old '45 Chrysler, driving along Washington Street in Newtonville.

One of the City's Finest pulled the car over.  (The car was missing a headlight, apparently.)

"Okay," barked the officer as he shone his flashlight into their faces.  "What are your names?  You, the driver . ."

"Mark Golub."

"And you?"

"Gil Bickum."

"And you, young lady?"

"Bethel Bilezikian."

"Don't get wise with me, sister.  What's your real name?"



That's what you get for growing up Armenian-American in Newton, Massachusetts . . .

Stomp on those old dried out lemons!

Okay, so here's the scoop.  Marash Girl's mother-in-law Azniv always stomped on her lemons before she squeezed them . . .  Just to soften them up.   Not old dried out lemons, but fresh lemons. (Did she bring this custom with her from Marash?) Then she rinsed the lemons, cut them in half and proceeded to squeeze them on her antique (for her it wasn't antique) glass lemon reamer.   That way she was able to squeeze the very last bits of lemon juice from the rind.

(Marash Girl thinks she does Azniv one better when Marash Girl makes hummus and babaghanoush. . . she peels the lemons, removes the seeds, and puts the lemon -- sans seeds and peel -- into the Cuisinart, blends it up and adds it to the chick pea or eggplant mixture.  Absolutely delicious!  Azniv would approve!) . . . but back to the subject at hand.

Stomping on your lemons is particularly helpful when you've had the lemons around for a long time . . . when the skins become so dried out that the lemon skins become hard . . . impossible to squeeze, (is that what happens to us after a long time?) and everyone in the family is telling you to throw them out. So rather than tossing those forgotten in the corner lemons, stomp on them, rinse them off, squeeze them using your (now) antique glass lemon reamer [whatever you do, don't use a plastic lemon reamer . . . unless you want to change the flavor and the chemical makeup of the lemon juice], and the result will be 'extra-strength' lemon juice.  

Note of warning:  be careful how much you use in your soup, or your soup will be too թթու ["tutou"] for even the hardiest of taste buds to tolerate!

Think before you write? Or write before you think . . .

You know what E. M. Forster used to say . . .

"How do I know what I think until I see what I write . . ."

Marash Girl "knows" that that's true for her . . . . and now she knows for sure!

Return that dish, but never return it empty!

Pleased that someone has gone to the trouble of preparing you a meal on a platter? Gifting you a birthday cake? Delivering you soup when you're feeling under the weather?  Sharing a tray of cookies with you and your family?  

You'll certainly be attentive to returning their pot/platter/tray . . . BUT will you return the pot/platter/tray empty?  Not if you're Armenian!  If you're Armenian, you'd NEVER return a platter empty . . . Never!

Why not?

You tell Marash Girl!

Try Zaytoun!

Tired of the hustle and bustle (now there's a really old-fashioned word) . . . let's try again . . .

Tired of the screaming music and 30 minute waits while you're crowded into the windy entrance of a popular restaurant on Smith Street in Brooklyn Heights? (Luluc, to be exact!) The music was so loud that Marash Girl had trouble even imagining how to swallow the food that might be offered at brunch, much less how to taste it . . . After 20 minutes of cuddling with numerous other hopefuls in the frosty restaurant entranceway, Marash Girl and her entourage decided to try another luncheon venue -- but what? There were many small restaurants along the throroughfare, but all of them were empty . . . this could not bode well.   Marash Girl's son Deron solved the dilemma, (as he is so often wont to do when restaurants or geographical questions rear their pretty heads . . . ) "I know a small place with delicious food -- Zaytoun -- it's right up the street -- only a short 6 block walk."

[Beginning on Smith Street, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn Heights, it would be a mere 15 minute walk  from Montague (the main drag in Brooklyn Heights) in good weather,-- of course, on this day the roads were covered with ice and slush and snow as were the sidewalks, and snow was raining from the skies!]

Zaytoun Restaurant - Photos by Marash Girl

Seated at Zaytoun, a major discussion ensued when Marash Girl found garmir kufte incorrectly named and attributed to an ethnicity other than her own, but since she makes garmir kufte all the time, she knew what it was . . . Marash Boy's great grandmother -- an ethnic Armenian, as is Marash Girl -- made it all the time . . . Now let's call an Armenian dish an Armenian dish!

Appetizers at Zaytoun . . . Garmir Kufte on the right

Zaytoun did not disappoint us!  The service was charming and the food tasted as good as it looks (see photo by Marash Girl above)!

Inch by Inch

As Marash Girl approached her automobile late that wintery night, she sighed; there she was, wedged in by two brand new autos . . . one inch to spare at each end.  An initial panic set in, calmed by the memory of her father's assurances.

"If the space in which you're trying to park your car is only one inch longer than your car, you can make it."

"Well," Marash Girl muttered to herself, "if I can make it in with only one inch to spare, I should be able to make it out, right, Dad?"

Gamatz, gamatz; little by little; inch by inch . . . Marash Girl tried to extricate her automobile  one  inch to spare on each end, roadways and walkways covered with snow and ice, 20 degrees F with a wind, at 10 o'clock at night . . . back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . . and she was out!

Just Say Yes, #2

The President of the Senior Class of Watertown High School, Class of 1932, was ahead of his time when he advised his former classmates to "Just say yes!"

[See http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2014/02/just-say-yes_13.html]  

Marash Girl recently came across a book by that very title, the hardcover which will go on sale in March of 2014.  (No, Marash Girl did not see the book before she wrote her blogpost, nor has she read it, but YOU can read it when you purchase the brand new paperback publisher's review copy at OldCornerBooks.com!)  The book is written by the industrialist Bernard L. Schwartz, who was, according to the publishers, "a boy raised in Depression-era Brooklyn who grew up to become a giant in the aerospace business . . . part memoir, part prescription for a better America in politics and business."  

Marash Girl has concluded that those boys growing up during the depression, Marashtsis included, were something else!  Would that we "collejagans" could do as well in today's economy . . . 

ON TAP: Bob Oakes (WBUR's Morning Edition) interviews Dr. Rachel Volberg & Laurie Salame on Massachusetts Casinos

Bob Oakes of WBUR's Morning Edition, interviewing

Dr. Rachel Volberg & Laurie Salame, JD, at the WBUR studios

Dr. Rachel Volberg (right) who conducts epidemiological research on gambling throughout the world, and Laurie Salame, JD, (left) who has worked in the casino industry and now teaches courses on hospitality law and casino management.

At the end of the evening, Bob Oakes asked the audience:  "How many of you here today are in favor of casinos in Massachusetts?  How many opposed? How many neutral?"   The vote in one family of three was 1-1-1!

On Thursday evening, February 27, 2014, Bob Oakes of WBUR's Morning Edition, "held court" (live) before an audience of WBUR supporters in the studios of WBUR.  During an interview with  Dr. Rachel Volberg (who conducts epidemiological research on gambling throughout the world) and Laurie Salame, JD (who has worked in the casino industry and now teaches courses on hospitality law and casino management) on the pros and cons of casinos in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Oakes directed a lively, audience-interactive discussion where one member of the audience commented, "Casinos in Massachusetts?  Make way for the pawn shops!" 
Summing up the issue, a young woman challenged the presenters: "Do you know what it's like growing up in a  community blighted by a casino?"

See earlier posts by Marash Girl on the proposed casino in Springfield, Massachusetts:

http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/mgm-offers-gambling-jobs-and.html; http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2013/07/mgm-wins-vote-for-casino-in-springfield.html

The Other Side of the River

 Awaiting the Next Snow Storm, Winter, 2014, or
The Other Side of the River, Watertown, Massachusetts

                                                                                                      Photo by Marash Girl:  Charles River, February 26, 2014

Remembering Allan Halpern

Marash Girl met Andrea in Paris, France, many years before Andrea's marriage to Allan Halpern (we knew him as Avrahm); Marash Boy was best man at their wedding.  Marash Girl posts this eulogy in memory of Allan Halpern -- Avrahm -- who passed away on February 11, 2014, after a long illness.

Allan Halpern & Andrea Colls on their wedding day in Manchester, England

When you’ve grown up with someone your entire life, it’s difficult to summarize all that history in a few words. Allan was always a presence in our lives. He lived with us for a while, and was always present at family gatherings such as Rosh Hashanah and Pesach. We would get together around my mother’s table and discuss, or more precisely, argue about the issues of the day. Part of Allan’s role was the food critic. The gefilte fish was superb, but this year’s matzo balls, perhaps not up to snuff. Next year it might be the reverse. He would know. He had a lifetime of experience with it all.

Allan graduated from Stuyvesant and attended Brown University.  Allan ‘s  willingness to schlepp to Stuyvesant every day illustrates his intellectual seriousness, a quality he displayed his whole life. He was an avid reader and remained passionately engaged with ideas his whole life

At Brown he studied history with one of the great and larger than life characters in the historical profession, Forrest McDonald. My brother Saul, now a professor of history, ran into McDonald at a conference before the elder scholar passed away and mentioned that his cousin Allan had often remarked about the lasting influence of his course, and McDonald smiled and said, yes  Allan Halpern, I remember him “bright and energetic.”  In between the chopped liver and the main course at Passover one might hear Allan defending Hamilton against Jeffersonian heresies, as well as more current arguments on politics and economics.

Allan was a great Epicurean. He loved good food, good wine, classical music, and opera.   He had strong opinions here too, which he had no hesitation in sharing, about the tenor, or which high-end turntable to buy. When I was very young he took me to the old Metropolitan Opera, for a standing room view of the performance. It was a still memorable experience for me.

Allan was a man of strong beliefs. He was a frequent letter writer to the Wall Street Journal, many of which were published, including this one found by Saul that I will quote from. Always well-written and cogently argued, if there was one common theme, it was bemoaning the declining standards of public discourse in an increasingly debased political culture. I would venture to say that our current politics would not have discouraged him in his opinion.

Allan was not afraid to challenge even the most notable of opponents. Here is an excerpt from a letter he wrote challenging Arthur Schlesinger, another giant of the field of history.

“ Mr. Schlesinger’s article is a sad abdication of intellectual responsibility. In commenting on a campaign characterized by an unfortunate excess of demagoguery and nastiness, Mr. Schlesinger chooses simply to add an additional dose of vitriol.

Messrs. Reagan and Carter are not stupid men, although the age we live in may appear to distill an excess of simplicity on the part of those engaged in the political process. They must appear to satisfy a broad range of expectations that are politically unobtainable, no doubt fortunately so; and they are forced to champion positions that are often silly and at the same time marginal.”

I think if he were still with us, he could reissue the same opinion by merely bringing the names up to date.

For Allan, genius was a zero sum game. One was a winner or loser, but always a combatant.

Allan liked his independence, so it took him a bit of time to find the right partner in his life. I was in college when he and Andrea were married, and in fact I was with Allan the night before in what passed for a bachelor party, which amounted to both of us getting very drunk and staying out most of the night  hopping around different Greenwich Village bars and coffee shops. But it was clear to me then, and has always been clear to all of us, that he had found a wonderful mate and partner in life, someone that everyone in the family has loved and cherished ever since she became part of our lives. Alan was always an Anglophile, a boy from the Bronx who somewhere along the way picked up a British accent, so of course finding a British wife was the logical next step.

Alan was always the cool cousin, the one who could provide the voice of experience to a younger relative. I will say that with the benefit of hindsight, the advice was occasionally not the best, but it always led to interesting outcomes.  

Allan served as our mentor in all things intellectual. My brother Gary could not be here tonight—his girlfriend’s mother passed away Friday and he had to fly to San Diego. But Allan was an important influence on his life as well, teaching him Algebra when he was in the fifth grade, starting him on the road to his degrees in math, introducing him to the Marshal Chess Club where he eventually became a serious player and taking Gary to Strand and other used book stores, where Gary started on the used book hunting that has been such a large and happy part of his life.

Allan faced many difficulties in his life, with parents who died when he was young, and a sometimes challenging family environment, for our family was not an easy one to live within, but he wanted to find his own way and did. He was an important influence on me and my brothers as we grew up, and a constant presence in our lives. We loved him and we will miss him. Grief is the price we pay for love.

 I will recite a quote from proverbs that I think exemplifies what Allan believed in, and how he lived his life.

The Proverbs of Solomon
Death and life are in the power of the tongue,
and those who love it will eat its fruits.  18:21

And lastly, a quote from Albert Einstein that I think Allan would appreciate

Now he has departed from this strange world a little ahead of me. That signifies nothing. For us believing physicists, the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.

 The song is ended, but the melody lives on.

Written and presented by Gene Cornell at the funeral service of Allan Halpern. Manhattan, New York.

Survival

'There is a famous saying in Marash:  "When you move from your home, you encounter seventy-two kinds of calamities, the least of which is death."'  Paul Bilezikian commenting on the Bilezikian family's ordeal surviving the genocide and fleeing from Marash, Turkey, to the United States. Quoted in  THE CILICIAN ARMENIAN ORDEAL by Paren Sanentz (Boson, Hye Intentions, 1989).

Love your wife? Keep quiet about it!

Apparently, in the tradition of Armenians from Marash, it was unacceptable for a man to wax eloquent about his wife; if he were so gauche as to do so, he would be asked post-haste, "What? Are you trying to sell her?"

Whose Turkey is it?

In an article in the New York Times entitled, "Whose Turkey Is It? (http://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/09/magazine/whose-turkey-is-it.html) -- 

 Fethullah Gulen, one of today's two Muslim leaders of Turkey, chastised both the prime minister and the protesters,  with the following metaphor: “If you are facing an invasion of ants, you can’t disregard it, thinking that they are ‘ants.’ ” 

In early February of 2014, nearly 100 years later, Gulen takes a slightly different cut on the saying from early 20th Century Marash, oft-quoted by Marash Girl's father Peter (see http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2014/02/if-your-enemy-is-ant-view-him-as.html?showComment=1392936184374),  "If your enemy is an ant, perceive the ant as if it were an elephant."

On another note, now nearly 100 years after the Armenian Genocide, in their hearts if not aloud, Armenians around the world ask, (as did the New York Times,)  "Whose Turkey is it?"

Hot Mulled Apple Drink for the Multitudes

And speaking of cinnamon sticks and Christmas (see yesterday's blogpost),  Marash Girl gave everyone but herself a packet of mulling spices for Christmas . . . but yesterday, when she was in her packing room packaging books to ship to Australia and other far flung corners of the world (does the world have corners), she found another stash of mulling spices and cinnamon sticks right where she had been packaging her Christmas gifts.  Mulling spices for Marash Girl!  Cool!

Having no apple cider in the house, and not really in the mood for chai like her mother made it (see http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2010/12/on-making-chai.html), Marash Girl checked her refrigerator to see what was there . . . and there was only one cup of apple juice.  Hmmmm......  Not wanting apple juice cold or warm or mulled, she decided to play a bit.  Throwing a handful of mulling spices (which consisted of whole cloves, whole allspice, broken pieces of cinnamon sticks and dried orange peel) into a pot of water, and adding the cup of apple juice that was left in the refrigerator, she simmered the mixture for a bit, looking forward to the hot mulled drink that would result.  

By all measures, delicious!

As long as you use an all natural apple juice -- no preservatives -- one of the advantages of mulling in this way (with apple juice, not apple cider) is that (1) it is close to impossible to find apple cider without preservatives, (2) it is close to impossible to find apple cider out of season, (3) it is far more costly to buy apple cider than apple juice, and finally, (4) the drink is one that is far less sweet and can be sipped throughout the afternoon just as you would tea.  In fact, for elegance, you may try serving it (to yourself, if you are alone, or to guests, if you have them) in a fancy teapot!  Much nicer than pouring the mulled concoction (whoops --  did you use wine rather than apple juice?)  out of a stainless steel pan from the stove top.

Cinnamon sticks to the rescue!

Several years ago, when Marash Girl wrote her blogpost on fish chowder (http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2011/09/new-england-fish-chowder.html), she did not know the secret to preventing the whole house from smelling fishy!  It wasn't until her visit to Brooklyn Heights to visit with her friend who was originally from Manchester, England, the same friend that shared her secret for perfect mashed potatoes (http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2014/02/mashing-your-potatoes.html) that Marash Girl  learned of the solution:  "Simple," said her friend.  "Just simmer a cinnamon stick in a pot of water; soon the whole house will smell like Christmas . . . " and, Marash Girl might add, you can use the resulting cinnamon water to make yourself an aromatic cup of tea!

Chocolate Chip Scones á la Niña

Hi, Marash Girl -- I made scones this morning!  Here is the recipe including my latest modifications.  Feel free to use on your blog if you'd like.

They came out delicious :)

Chocolate chip scones

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 cups oatmeal (ground up in a blender or food processor)

3/4 cup sugar

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp cinnamon

3/4 cup cold butter, cut into 1/4 inch cubes

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 tsp vanilla

3/4 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 425 F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper (or just grease with oil). Whisk together flour, oatmeal, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and cinnamon in a large bowl. Add butter and rub in with your fingers until the mixture resembles a coarse meal (this part is important; if you use melted butter the texture doesn't come out the same). Add chocolate chips and mix with your hands until evenly distributed.

Wisk the buttermilk and vanilla together and add to the dry ingredients. Mix together. The mixture will stay very dry, almost like it doesn't quite stick together. This is good for having nice crumbly scones.

Divide the dough into two balls and place one on each baking sheet. Press (or roll with rolling pin) each ball into a circle, about 1/2 inch thick. Cut into triangles (or whatever shape you want!) and separate so each scone has space to cook. Brush the tops with buttermilk. Cook for 17-20 minutes or until the tops are golden-brown.

If your enemy is an ant, view him as an elephant.

"If your enemy is an ant, view him as an elephant." (Or in contemporary parlance, never underestimate your opponent; but rather, overestimate!)

So quoted the old Armenian folks from Marash years back, translating into English for the youngsters . . .  Not sure what enemies they were referring to, but you might chance a guess . . .

When I grow old . . .

When I grow old, I shall wear purple pony tails!   [With apologies to Jenny Joseph]

The secret of successful dieting

Overheard:  If I stop writing, I could lose weight!

Mashing your potatoes?

Marash Girl never understood how folks prepared perfect mashed potatoes.  She loved to eat them (albeit, not often, as growing up, rice pilaf was the mainstay in her Marashtsi/Aintepsi home.)  It wasn't until Friday evening that Marash Girl learned of the one ingredient essential to making perfect mashed potatoes . . . and she learned the secret from her friend Andrea who had grown up in Manchester (England) and lived most of her adult life in Brooklyn Heights.  Wanna know the secret that she shared (a secret shared in an elegant English accent)?

"Baking potatoes, of course!  Baking potatoes must be boiled in order to prepare perfect mashed potatoes."

Who knew?

Thinking of buying a second home?

Realtor:
That's why people buy second homes, I think.  To have a second chance at life.

I'll eat anything . . .

Husband at dinner,  commenting to dinner guest on his wife's cooking:

I'll eat anything she puts in front of me . . .
As long as it's perfect!

Life-Giving Love

Life-Giving Love
Love-Giving Life

Happy Birthday, Lorig

Just say yes!

Just say yes!  So advised the President of the Senior Class of Watertown High School, Class of 1932, at their 50th High School Reunion.  "As we get older," he said, "we tend to feel that we've done everything, and there's no need to do any more . . . We start looking for excuses to say 'no' to invitations, to new experiences, to life . . . I'm here as your Senior Class President to give you lifelong advice.  Be sure that once a day, you 'just say yes!'  Say yes to friends, say yes to relatives, say yes to new experiences, say yes to new adventures, say yes to life!"

Love while you can . . .

Life is short.  Marash Girl's best friend's husband just died.  She loved him.  She loves him.  Life is not forever.  Show your love while you can . . .

Advice to the Lovelorn

Overheard:

"So how do you get a girl interested in you?"

"If she's good looking, I tell her she's smart; if she's smart, I tell her she's good-looking. . . It works with guys, too!"

Labeling . . .

At a  parent-teacher conference in a Springfield, Massachusetts, elementary school, a teacher's first words to the mother of an 8 year old girl?  "What are you doing here? I thought you were in prison!"  It turns out that the little girl had told her teacher that her mother was in prison . . .  .   which was true . . . the child's mother works at a state prison . . . that is the mother's job . . .  and the teacher's assumption put into words?

A Blessing, and NOT in disguise

After three folks including Marash Girl shoveled for an hour each, three times on this past Wednesday, the day of the big snowstorm, Marash Girl woke up on Thursday morning to find her driveway blocked, the opening to the street at the end of her driveway piled high with snow -- and not only snow, but all of the icy mass that had collected on the end of her little dead end street had dead ended onto the opening at the end of her driveway. The street plow had found a convenient spot to unload its burden.  Not fair!  As they used to say at the Harvard-Radcliffe Armenian Club, Vaht to do?  

(see http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/vaht-to-do.html)

Marash Girl grabbed a shovel, ignoring her lower back which was screaming out in protest, and headed out to reshovel out her car's pathway to the street . . . But what should she find, right where the driveway ends at the street, but a bucket loader with its hoe perched two feet from her driveway.  Hmmmm . . . Next in the saga -- a young man from the city was leaning on a shovel which was perched onto the snow pile right next to Marash Girl's driveway -- Starting a conversation with the fellow, Marash Girl learned that the City had sent these burly young men to clear the openings to the storm grates so that the street would not flood.

Thinking quickly, Marash Girl, grinning, quipped, "Oh, did you know that there's a grate right beneath this pile of snow at the end of my driveway?"

The young man took two (heavy) shovelfuls, returning Marash Girl's grin, pointed to the driver of the front loader who, in two swift strokes of his machine, cleared the driveway.  All that was left was for Marash Girl to shovel up were a few small piles of iced snow (which she dutifully threw into the bucket of the bucket loader) as she thanked the Good Lord and the Good Men . . .

Spring is on its way!

Looking out of her bedroom window the day after this week's mega-snowstorm, Marash Girl thought she was seeing things -- she thought she saw a robin redbreast nibbling the buds on a snow covered maple tree -- out came her iPhone and snap went the camera.  But wait . . . the photo was taken through a glass darkly . . . through a window darkened by the winter's weather, and a screen, and tree branches, and snow . . .  if you look carefully, you might see a robin in the lower right quadrant of the photo below.

Playing around a bit, Marash Girl was able to reveal the robin in the tree branches!

 (Look for orange in the center of the photo below.)

Now you, too, can claim to have seen a robin on a cold February day in Newton, Massachusetts. . . Does this sighting countermand the implication of the groundhog's seeing its shadow this past Sunday?

Hamburgers, Armenian Style (or, as Armenians are wont to call them, "Losh"!

Growing up in the USA,  Marash Girl never questioned the fact that her mother would always  finely chop onions, peppers, parsley and sometimes tomato paste (along with salt and pepper) to mix into freshly ground lamb, then shape the meat into hamburgers (why are they called HAM burgers, anyway?)  before broiling the burgers on the top rack of her Westinghouse oven.  But that's what she did, and later she did the same with ground beef.  And, of course, in the summer, she cooked those burgers over the fireplace that Peter had built in the back yard, and later over the barbecue  . . . as Marash Boy's family  did over the outdoor fire in the fireplace on the top of Wilbraham mountain.

If you want a burger that is a taste treat, try it yourself.  You'll never eat another "American" burger again!

Today is the 226th Anniversary of Massachusetts Statehood

Visiting Blogger Deron writes:

Today, February 6, marks the 226th anniversary of Massachusetts Statehood. On February 6, 1788, Massachusetts became the 6th state to ratify the U.S. Constitution, thereby joining the Union.

Appropriate consumption of food/beverages include the following:

Above only a sampling -- tough to get what you want in NYC

Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice, New England Clam Chowder (Chowdah), anything from Dunkin Donuts, Fig Newtons, Sam Adams Beer (or any other delicious MA brew), cod fish, lobster, baked beans. 

And don't forget Massachusetts' very own coffee,

and Boston Creme Donuts, heart shaped for 2/14.

Fig Newtons were created in Newton, Massachusetts!

Play some basketball or volleyball, also Massachusetts creations! 

James Naismith (November 6, 1861 – November 28, 1939) was a Canadian/ American sports coach and innovator. He invented the sport of basketball at Springfield College, Springfield, Massachusetts in 1891 .

William Morgan invented volleyball in 1895 at the Holyoke,Massachusetts, YMCA where he served as Director of Physical Education.

How will YOU mark the occasion?

The Answer to OldCornerBooks.com Sweepstakes, or, The Wagon Is Full!

Yesterday Marash Girl initiated a sweepstakes, a prize going to the person who guessed the number of books she has listed since she began listing books 20 years ago.

The answers submitted were 73,000      54,321       36,500      

The correct number is 52,067 as of yesterday morning before Marash Girl wrote her blog post!

To the contestants, Marash Girl says (as Peter and Nasreddin Hodja would say,) "You're right; you're right; and you're right, too!" [See http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2013/09/youre-right-too-favorite-nasreddin.html]

Therefore, each contestant wins a free book in the form of a gift certificate worth $25 (free media mail shipping within the United States) at OldCornerBooks.com.  Just go to the website (http://www.oldcornerbooks.com) and have fun searching!  Awaiting your order . . .

You can't sell from an empty wagon!

Marash Girl, as many of you are aware, is the sole proprietor of the on-line bookstore, OldCornerBooks.com, selling books of all kinds and conditions to customers all over the world.  Quite an interesting and fun business, she thinks; fun, that is, if you love books (as she has over 50,000 books in her warehouse, 35,000 of them already listed online)!  Much of her workday is taken up by her listing her out-of-print inventory on line, detailing not only title, author, year of publication, edition, and printing, but also describing as exactly as possible the condition of the book -- its dust jacket (if it has one), its covers, its pages.  Her cousin once asked her how she could tolerate such detail in listing books online; the answer is in an old Armenian saying, "Kich mu sirem  . . .   գիչ մը սիրէմ… "  If you truly love something, an object a person, the time spent in touching it, looking at it, describing it, loving it a bit, is not considered time spent working . . . so that may be the answer.  But it all calls to mind Marash Girl's father (who, many years ago, was the proprietor of Newtonville Electrical Co., Inc, Newtonville, Massachusetts, and before that --  before the Genocide of the Armenians --  spent his childhood in the streets of Marash, Ottoman Empire, where much of that which was sold, was sold from wagons coming into the city from the countryside). His advice of many years ago:  "Just list 10 books a day," he said; "after all, you can't sell from an empty wagon!"

So if Marash Girl has been in business for over 20 years, how many books has she listed, all told?  A free book to whoever guesses the right answer!

Green conquers the white of winter . . .

It was 0 degrees fahrenheit, the ground frozen solid for weeks, snow and ice in patches covering the front garden, and yet, near to the place where the garden meets the asphalt sidewalk, near to the cobbles that guard the perennials, were two tiny green spears, not more than an eighth of an inch above the ground, but there, none the less, and, yes, green . . .  there yesterday, as well . . . .a promise of the iris waiting to burst forth . . . . . . .  a lesson for life, for sure. . .

He's Tied To His Mother's Apron Strings!

In an Armenian Marashtsi household where Turkish and Armenian were spoken interchangeably, Marash Boy somehow must have heard the expression, "He's tied to his mother's apron strings." (Marash Girl has no idea how you'd say that in Armenian or Turkish) . . . At any rate, Marash Boy, who to this day records what he hears and replays it days later . . . Marash Boy took action on the words and, as his mother loved to relate, he literally attached himself to his mother by tying himself behind her with his mother's apron strings!

When Marash Girl asked Marash Boy if he remembered doing just that, he answered, "Yes, I remember!  Good thing I never heard the expression, 'You have to eat a pound of dirt before you die!'  My Irish assistant at the Massachusetts State House often regaled me with tales of his childhood when he actually sat down and tried to force feed himself dirt, as he knew he must eat a pound before he died . . .!!"

On Failure, or rather, On Success

Marash Boy:  If you don't fail, you can't succeed

Marash Girl:  If you're afraid to fail, you can't succeed

Thomas Edison (1847-1931), inventor of electricity:  I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.

WBUR ON TAP Opens with its First Event: Super Bowl Haiku

Bill Littlefield (left) and Charlie Pierce joshing yesterday evening at WBUR ON TAP.                       Photo by Marash Girl

A new free event series to be held monthly at Boston University's WBUR, WBUR On Tap invites the public to the studio to sip beer, nibble cheese and crackers, and meet and interact with the real people behind the radio voices. "Kicking" the series off  by  commemorating the 20th anniversary "Super Bowl Haiku,"  WBUR On Tap  opened with the "comedy team" of Bill Littlefield and Charlie Pierce who went at it yesterday evening, leaving the audience little time to breathe, they (the audience and Bill and Charlie) were laughing so hard. Opening with more haikus then you could shake a football at,  Bill and Charlie joshed about the Super Bowl both in Haiku and English prose! (They didn't have to call the Game the Superb Owl, they noted, as they weren't selling anything!)

Dirty money

A very rich fellow who owns a very elegant hair salon is not so rich that he will not stoop to gather up a $5 bill that someone has inadvertently dropped to the sidewalk.  But it is filthy lucre -- the bill is encrusted with the mud of winter -- and so the very wealth fellow, not to be discouraged, before he washes the next customer's hair, scrubs that $5 bill for all he (and the bill) is worth! Luckily the green doesn't fade; only the muck.

[This one really happened!]

Armenian Bread Sticks (better known as Simit in Armenian Circles) from Wingaersheek Beach!

Marash Girl dutifully sat at her computer today to list her promised 10 books a day onto her website (http://www.oldcornerbooks.com) when she came upon a charitable cookbook, one of her favorite category of books!  Prepared in order to raise funds, usually by women, usually for charitable organizations, these cookbooks are important contributions to local history, important contributions to the history of women.  Typically the cookbooks are plastic spiral bound, printed on stenograph machines, and sold by the members of the local church, synagogue, YMCA, community service group . . . Typically each recipe has the printed name of its contributor, and often, when these books were gifted, they have the ink inscription and signature of one of the contributors.  It was just one of these books -- 


Wingaersheek Yacht Club; Cookbook Committee Judiei McManus, Maureen Donovan, Carol Harrington, Ruth Parsons, Rita Mawn; illus by Kip Penney; Historical preface by William L. Wilson, Wingaersheek's Cottage Cookery, compiled by the Wingaersheek Yacht Club, 1978


that Marash Girl flipped open  this morning when she was listing books onto her website. [Where's Wingaersheek, you might ask . . . it's a tiny beach community on the North Shore of Massachusetts, a part of Gloucester.]  The book opened, by chance or by purpose, Marash Girl always wonders, to page 144, where there in all its glory was the recipe for ARMENIAN BREAD STICKS.  Armenian Bread Sticks?  Marash Girl hasn't thought of those since her Auntie Beatrice (Chuck's mom) was making them at 325 (?)  Lowell Avenue on that fortunate day when Marash Girl arrived unannounced, a little girl then, on her way back from piano lessons.  Auntie Bea never did give her the recipe, though she gave her lots of bread sticks to munch on, but you can be sure that Marash girl is going to try the recipe from Wingaersheek's Cottage Cookery to see if it comes anywhere near Auntie Bea's!  Here it is!

ARMENIAN BREAD STICKS

1 C MELTED BUTTER
 1 C SUGAR
1/2 C MILK
2 TSP. BAKING POWDER
3 EGGS
5 1/2 CUPS SIFTED FLOUR (Marash Girl would use King Arthur)
sesame seeds (about 1/2 c or more if desired)
1 egg, beaten (to brush on top)

In large bowl, beat eggs, add melted butter, sugar and milk. Pour into flour mixture in bowl. Knead lightly into medium dough. Make balls about 2 inches in diameter. Roll each ball with palm of hands on a board until it resembles a pencil.  Cut into 3-inch pieces.  Brush with egg. Sprinkle with sesame seeds. Place on cook sheet about 2 inches apart.  Bake at 350 degrees fahrenheit until golden brown, about 30 minutes.
                                                                                                                           Verkin Selian

Several suggestions from Marash Girl
Roll out the dough, cut into strips. roll strips into pencil width and length (3 to 5 inches).  Continue as described above.
Marash Girl would caution you not to overcook these tasty morsels, as they tend to burn as the last minutes of baking approach!

If you try the recipe, please let us all know how it comes out (in your comments below).

And finally, do any of you know (did any of you know) Verkin Selian?

Farewell, Pete Seeger, and God Bless!

Dear Pete Seeger,

You meant the world to us.  God blessed us with your presence, your music . . .  your music in the face of darkness.  You made this world a better place and now, for sure, you have gone to a far better place.  Աստուած հոգին լուսաւորէ:

Ahsin and Girol - - Do you remember when your Auntie Arppie took you to see Pete Seeger in concert at the University of Connecticut (Storrs) auditorium?  Whether you remember or not, his influence can be seen today in everything you do . . .

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/29/arts/music/pete-seeger-songwriter-and-champion-of-folk-music-dies-at-94.html?_r=0

Phone Call from Cyberspace

Recently Marash Girl received a phone call from a woman who said that she had ordered a book from OldCornerBooks.com, but had received the wrong title.  Marash Girl asked her name, the title and the condition of the book which the woman had ordered.

After chatting for quite a while, the woman -- let us call her Miriam -- realized that she had found Marash Girl's invoice in the book, but that that invoice was dated 2007.  Apparently the fellow who had sold her the book had purchased the book from Marash Girl 7 years ago in new, very fine condition, that fellow had used the book (it was now very tattered) and sold it to Miriam without ever bothering to remove his original invoice.  This we learned after 15 minutes of attempting to unravel the mystery.

But the true mystery was this:  Why did the universe decide to bring these two folks together in a 15 minute conversation?

Your Money or Your Life -- Your Choice!

Friend from abroad: "Time is money:  that's America!"

Marash Girl:  "You can always get more money, but you can never get more time . . . "

This interchange brought to mind Jack Benny's famous comic interlude broadcast March 28, 1948:

Mugger:  Don't make a move, this is a stickup. Now, come on. Your money or your life.

Jack Benny: (silence)

Mugger: Look, bud -- I said your  money or your life!

Jack Benny:  (after a pause)  I'm thinking it over!  

(or as Peter, Marash Girl's father used to end the joke --  one of his favorite's, by the way -- "I'm thinking, I'm thinking!")

KAROUN YOGA, WEST SPRINGFIELD (MA) CELEBRATES FIRST YEAR ANNIVERSARY

At Karoun Yoga, men do yoga, too!

Karoun Yoga, located in the Mall at 235 Memorial Avenue in West Springfield, Massachusetts, celebrated its first anniversary this past weekend at the studio. A smashing success, Karoun Yoga, in celebration, ran free classes all evening with a party featuring refreshments, a DJ, and beer donated by the High and Mighty Beer company based out of Holyoke.

The amazing Karoun Yoga teaching team

Butterflies at Zero Degrees Fahrenheit?

 

Marash Girl's heart was put to flight when she entered the cavernous Salon de Paris and found butterflies cavorting on the recently muralled walls. . . a small piece of hope in the bitter cold of New England's zero degrees Fahrenheit.The mother of the owners was, of course, Marashtsi!

Reminiscing . . . Lois Brown and her Gift of Books

Lois Brown?  Her name was written across the front free endpaper of the book,
FAMOUS LIGHTHOUSES of NEW ENGLAND, a book Marash Girl just found in a box of old books.  (Did Marash Girl's fascination with lighthouses exist way back then, when she first saw the book on her living room bookshelf?)

Lois Brown lived on a farm on the South Shore of Massachusetts, in  the town of Marshfield -- she was a good friend of Peter's, and when she moved out of her farmhouse (Marash Girl can still remember walking up the hill on their farm with Peter and Lois Brown's husband -- Harry Brown -- the name just came to Marash Girl -- and they had an adopted daughter, Polly Brown -- I wonder where she is today?) On the day Peter and Marash Girl were visiting, Lois Brown was working on hooking a rug -- she had a frame and sat behind the frame patiently weaving the rug by pulling the hook attached to colored yarn -- which color Marash Girl cannot remember --   through the course mesh that was soon to be a rug -- a work of art that would take a good year to complete!  Lois Brown even gave Marash Girl a hook in the hopes that Marash Girl, then perhaps only 8 years old, would begin the hobby herself.   

Hm m m .... wonder what ever happened to that hook . . .

Lois Brown, when she moved, sent two large cartons of books to the family home on Lowell Avenue, and Marash Girl does believe that that may have been the beginning of a life-long fascination with books . . . or perhaps the beginning of her fascination with books was the gift given to Marash Girl when she was taught to read (in English) by her Auntie Zabelle . . . well before Marash Girl had entered first grade, a fascination that continued, perhaps because the Newton Free Library children's branch was right across the street from Claflin, the very first school Marash Girl attended.

Can't open that little bottle of pills? Ask a little one . . .

Returning from a trip to Walgreen's today, carrying with her a childproof bottlette full of antibiotic tablets, Marash Girl was reminded of Medzmama, and how she would always ask her little grandchildren, the ones who had reached ages 3 and 5, for help in opening those little bottles of medications, as her aged hands, although they could still roll out paklava dough,  could not open a child-proofed bottle of pills!

James Baldwin's Paris

Did you get to read "James Baldwin's Paris" in this past Sunday's New York Times Travel section?  A friend who traveled abroad with Marash Girl many years ago emailed that she remembered Marash Girl had once met James Baldwin in Paris.  Yes, in fact, Marash Girl wrote about that encounter on this very blogspot.  Should you be interested in Marash Girl's recounting of her meeting with James Baldwin in Paris,  just click this link: http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/on-gifting-armenian-tile-to-james.html... As an addendum to Marash Girl's blog post, her friend Gail writes: "Do I remember more or less correctly that during your conversation with him that he said sometimes people (white)  would come up to speak to him and say they thought he looked familiar...perhaps he was Louis  Armstrong?"

Yes, Marash Girl's friend Gail remembers correctly.  Do any of you, Marash Girl's faithful readers, have memories of interactions with James Baldwin?  If so, please comment below!

Alice Shepard Riggs - If you don't like what you're hearing, take out your hearing aid!

The incident recorded by Marash Girl yesterday (scroll down) brought to mind one day, many years ago, when Marash Girl went to  the Walker Missionary Home in Auburndale, Massachusetts,  to visit Alice Shepard Riggs in order to arrange an oral history interview with this missionary, daughter of Dr. Fred Douglas Shepard (a medical missionary who witnessed the genocide and ministered both physically and spiritually to the survivors).  

  Mrs. Riggs, the author of  Shepard of Aintab (http://www.oldcornerbooks.com/shop/oldcorner/49796.html), had worked with the Armenians in Aintab (today known as Gaziaintep) after the war and helped organize a lace making cottage industry amongst the women who had been left without hearth and home, a home based industry creating lace that would be sent to Wellesley College (Wellesley, Massachusetts) to sell there, the proceeds of which would be returned to Aintab and used to support life for the women who had survived the Genocide.

Alice Shepard Riggs was 94 at the time that Marash girl visited her, in full possession of her wits, but not her hearing.  Marash Girl's little daughters, Nisha and Lorig, were so excited to meet her that they couldn't stop chattering.  Mrs. Riggs admonished them:  "If you girls don't stop talking, I'll take out my hearing aids and then I won't be able to hear anything you say!"  Nisha, a second  (or third?) generation Armenian, remembers the incident as being the very first time she had ever met an "old lady" who spoke English without an Armenian accent!

The interview is available for researchers at the Armenian Museum of America in Watertown, Massachusetts.

Hard of Hearing? Get a hearing aid . . .

Niece: How old are you now, Auntie?

Auntie: Hey?

Niece: (Louder) How old are you now, Auntie?

Auntie: 94!

Niece: You look great!

 Auntie: Hey?

Niece:  (Louder) You look great, Auntie!

Auntie: What?

Niece:  You should really get a hearing aid!

Auntie: Can't hear you!

Niece:  (Louder) You should really get a hearing aid!

Auntie: I'm too old to get a hearing aid!

TURKEY: CONTENTIOUS MEDICAL BILL SIGNED!

Stalinesque? Hitleresque?  A country that wants to join the European Union dares to pass a law that denies medical assistance unless the doctor first seeks and receives approval from the Turkish government?  A warrant for torture or death . . . and this law passes . . .   Call it  the  հրաման (permission, or worse, command)  to murder any who would dare save a life in the moment, who would dare care for the ailing without a phone call (a phone call?  In the middle of chaos?  In the middle of the street?)  A doctor can now be arrested by the police for  saving lives!

And what country is this? The country is known as Turkey to those of us who speak English.  Want to read more? If you had the today's New York Times, you'd have to search long and hard, as the article is lost in the middle of page A 5, an article written by Rick Gladstone and placed below the center fold, under the heading EUROPE (Marash Girl is assuming that the New York Times already sees Turkey as a part of the European Union!) But since you don't have the paper, Marash Girl will make it even easier for you to read the article.  Just click this link and weep. http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/18/world/europe/turkey-contentious-medical-bill-signed.html?_r=0

What Can I Bring? Part Two

Little did Marash Girl realize when she wrote her blog post  entitled "What Can I Bring?" 

(see http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2013/11/what-can-i-bring.html) that there was a cookbook by that very title for sale at http://www.oldcornerbooks.com/shop/oldcorner/51852.html (It's true -- check it out!)  Now all Marash Girl has to do when she invites folks to dinner and they ask her that age old question . . . all she has to do  is to tell them to check out Anne Byrn's cookbook and choose from over 200 delicious options.  They'd have to buy the book from OldCornerBooks.com first, of course, in order to make their selection . . . or they could always check the book out of the library, if that is their preference.  Why, this cookbook actually has a recipe for spanaklu boerek, (Armenian spinach turnover), a favorite of Marash Girl's family, though in Byrn's book the dish is called Spinach and Feta Pie.  So don't ask Marash Girl what you can bring next time you're coming to visit; just choose anything from this cookbook; it'll do fine.

[Of course Marash Girl's mother Jennie NEVER would ask such a question.  She would simply bring the whole meal -- that is, the whole meal if she had been invited to a non-Armenian home for dinner!]

Honeymooning in Washington, DC: 1940: No Room in the Inn!

Matthew 24:6 And ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.

And so Peter and Jennie, following their wedding ceremony, set out on their honeymoon driving, approaching Washington, DC, in a snowstorm.

As it turned out, because of the rumors of war,  look where they might, there was no room . . . not in the inns, the tourist homes, the hotels, . . .  Finally, in Silver Spring, Maryland, Peter pulled into a gas station, desperate, and asked the gas station attendant where he might find a room for that night.   The gas station attendant (owner?) suggested, with a sly grin, that Peter should try the house -- a pillared mansion, really -- across the way; that the woman who lived there took in guests.  So Peter dutifully drove across the street, pulled into the grand circular driveway of the mansion. Leaving Jennie in the car, he walked up to the door and knocked.  A stately and stern woman answered the door.  The woman appeared bewildered to see Peter there, and asked why it was that he was standing at her door, knocking . . . He explained that he had just driven down from Boston after his wedding with his bride, and search as he might, he could find no places to stay . . .
"The fellow running the gas station across the road suggested that you might have a spare room to rent," he offered in his slightly marked Boston accent.

"The very idea!" she intoned in her highly cultured English. "I have no such thing!"

 Peter, taken aback at her answer, explained again, and asked if she wouldn't reconsider.
 "Let me see your wife -- bring her here and let me look at her."
As Peter explained it, when Jennie arrived at her doorstep, the owner of the mansion said to Jennie, "Turn around in a full circle, please!"
Jennie turned around in a full circle.  Peter, to the day that he last told the story, did not know the reason that the owner of the mansion asked Jennie to twirl for her, but Jennie did as she was told, and that was the coup d'état.
The moment the woman met sweet Jennie, she invited the two young people into her home, set them up in her guest room, and the next morning, invited them to have breakfast with her.  Over breakfast, she gave them the keys to her house and told them that they were welcome to stay as long as their honeymoon lasted -- they could come and go as if it were their home . . . they should plan to breakfast with her every morning.

And Marash Girl is here as evidence that, in fact, they did stay at her home for the full two weeks of their honeymoon!

Happy Anniversary, Mommy and Daddy - We Miss You!

On this day in 1940, Peter Bilezikian and Jennie (Lucille Mae Vartanian) were married in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  

Click this link to read more! http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/yesterday-was-martin-luther-kings.html

Bedros and Boghos: On the rooftop in Kumbet, Marash, Ottoman Empire

Peter would often chuckle when he regaled us with his memory of how he and his brother Paul would ascertain which wife their Muslim neighbor was going to sleep with on any particular night: the young boys would climb up onto their rooftop (the roofs were all flat) in Kumbet and scan the next door neighbor's roof to ascertain which wife was arranging the bedding -- the "yorghans" -- for that night.

The Moska and Grandma Yepros

Back to Marash . . . Marash Girl remembers her father Peter telling her of their Muslim neighbors in Marash, (the family lived in Kumbet) and of how the Muslim women would come to Grandma Yepros and beg her to ask her uncle (her uncle was a priest in the Armenian Apostolic Church in Marash) to prepare a moska for them so that they could bear a male child. . . a cloth amulet with Christian prayers written on slips of paper and sewn inside of the cloth, a cloth amulet attached to a cord that the Muslim women would wear around their necks. 

The Muslim women were ever grateful to Grandma Yepros (born Kurtgusian) as they would, without fail, after wearing the "moska", conceive and bear a male child.

Sleeping through breakfast . . .

Breakfasting in Springfield, Massachusetts, having wended her way down to the corner breakfast place through yesterday morning's sleet and snow and fog and cold, Marash Girl noticed that there was a fellow sleeping in the corner of the coffee shop.  Feeling a bit uncomfortable about having breakfast while a stranger was sleeping directly across from her, she thought she'd  better report the occurrence to the management.  The management immediately walked over to the corner, took a look at the sleeping man, and reported, "Oh, he's a regular," returning to his managing with no concern whatsoever.

A regular what? Marash Girl wondered, as she turned to take a sip of her coffee.

LIFELONG LOVE OF BOOKS BECOMES A BUSINESS by Daphne Abeel, May 10, 2003

COMMUNITY NEWS:  LIFELONG LOVE OF BOOKS BECOMES A BUSINESS
 by Daphne Abeel,  Armenian Mirror Spectator, May 10, 2003

Newton, Mass. -- For Marash Girl, a lifelong fascination with and love of books has led to a business, which she conducts from her large, rambling house in Newton.  The ceiling-high shelves, which run the length of the hallways on the second and third floor house well over 30,000 volumes which provide the basis for the free global book search she offers to her customers.  Said Marash Girl, :I think I got interested in books because of my father, Peter Bilezikian.  He is a Genocide survivor from Marash.  He had no early schooling but he did attend public schools in Brighton and Watertown.  He didn't go to college.  He always worked with his hands as a refrigerator repairman or electrician, but when he came home, he would sit down and start to read."
Her mother, whose family came from Aintab, also encouraged Marash Girl to read.  "Whenever she saw me reading, she told me it was the most important thing."
Marash Girl remembers that one of her father's Yankee customers gave her family a library of books when she moved from Newton to Marshfield.
And she remembers vividly the first time she ever bought a book of her own.  "I went with my father to a church book sale in Weston. We pored over the titles, and they couldn't have cost very much.  We each chose a book and went home with our little treasures."
Marash Girl's interest in reading and education took her through Newton High School and to Radcliffe College, and later to Yale and Columbia Universities where she received two masters degrees -- in teaching and guidance counseling.  It was at Radcliffe that she learned to speak and write Armenian.  "My parents really didn't speak Armenian as they had both grown up in Turkey.  My father learned Armenian when I brought my books home. He taught himself at the age of 47.
     While at Yale, she embarked upon a second book-buying spree.  Yale University sold off a number of illustrated books that had been published in the 18th and 19th centuries.  "I wasn't interested in collecting at the time, but I bought a number of those beautifully bound and illustrated books," Marash Girl recalled.
     Marash Girl embarked upon a teaching career at Lexington High School, moving later to the Boston Publich Schools.  She also worked as a guidance counselor at Newton High School, but gave up her teaching career to raise four children with her husband whom she met at Harvard.
"Of course, I read to my children all the time . . . every gook in the library.  Then, when my children enrolled at the AGBU Armenian School in Watertown, the principal, Gloria Hagopian, encouraged me to put together a children's library there."
     Marash Girl gathered thousands of books, by going to book sales, yard sales and to the New England Mobile Book Fair, which sold children's books for a dollar apiece.  She and other mothers at the school catalogued the books according to the Dewey decimal system.
     Her first real business enterprise was Vintage and Classic Cookbooks, which she started in 1986. "I had always collected cookbooks, but I actually bought a huge collection, and I was even mentioned in the New York Times.  I advertised in the Antiquarian Bookmabn's Weekly."
     Marash Girl says she barely broke even, almost never selling a book for over $10.  "I really did it for the fun.  What charged for the books just covered the mailing, the postage and the printing of the catalogue."
     Eventually, she gave the cookbook collection to the Bryn Mawr Bookstore in Cambridge, but a few years later, with the advent of the internet, Marash Girl found some of her old customers coming back to her.
     Michael & Helen Selzer, friends, who owned several bookstores in western Massachusets had started an internet book service called Bibliofind.  They urged Marash Girl to get back into the book business.  "They told me, - you can be in the game with the big boys - and so I joined Bibliofind, which allowed me to upload to a generic book site."
     Marash Girl does far more than simply sell a book to a customer.  "It probably takes 20 minutes to a half an hour to actually do a listing.  When you're buying on the internet, you don't always know what you're going to get.  When I sell a book, I clean it up, I flip through the pages, put mylar on the jacket.  If a book needs repair, I let people know."
     The pricing of a book depends totally on supply and demand, said Marash Girl.  She gives as an example a title, THE PRINCIPLES OF KNITTING which had a single printing in 1986.  "This is a niche book.  It's the bible for knitters and copy will now go for $250 to $300."
     Marash Girl emphasizes that her search for hard-to-find, out-of-print books is free.  "A lot of places like Waldenbooks will charge $10 to do a search, so what we are offering is valuable service."
     One of the most unusual finds she has made was turning up a copy of SON OF THE WOLF, a novel by Jack London. Published by Houghton Mifflin in 1900, the book had no spine and was virtually falling apart.  Not certain that it was a first edition, she listed the book for $50.  It was bought by a Harvard graduate student.  The book, in a sense, has changed his life.  Recently, Charkoudian received an email from him telling her that the book was probably imperfect sheets and may have been used to train a binder's apprentice.  He will be the featured speaker at the Jack London Foundation next year and will lecture on the relationship between Jack London and Houghton Mifflin.
     "He'd been looking for this book for 10 years, and I was able to find it for him in one day.  That's what makes me happy in this business.  There's the thrill of just buying and selling books, but it's not the money you make.  It's making people happy, finding a book that someone hasn't seen since they were 5.  I mostly sell to ordinary people, not to collectors.  I think of myself as a friend to my customers, who shares their love of books."
     Marash Girl is available to give free lectures on out-of-print books.  Her website is http://www.OldCornerBooks.com

And that's the story, as Daphne Abeel told it 20 years ago!  The story continues, as Marash Girl continues to serve the booklovers of the world through her website, http://www.OldCornerBooks.com.

Be sure to take the time to visit one day soon . . . the book you love may be just around the corner!