Left to right: Roz Zinn, Peter Bilezikian, Howard Zinn, in the Zinn's living room, Auburndale, Mass., October 2006
Whenever I drive through Auburndale, I remember the days when I used to visit Roz and Howard, sometimes with my father, sometimes by myself . . . a time of conversation, book signings, sharing Armenian stories and Armenian food.
How did I get to know Howard? My son, while he was in high school, used to mow Howard's lawn, loved Howard's books, never stopped talking about A PEOPLE'S HISTORY, and always gave his friends for birthday and Christmas gifts Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States. So when my son turned 24 (several years ago today), I thought, What better gift can I give him than signed copies of Howard's books? Having never met Prof. Zinn myself, I decided to make a cold call to see if he would be willing to help me with my son's birthday gift. Howard remembered my son fondly and said of course he would be more than happy to inscribe and sign books for Deron's birthday.
And that was our first meeting, the day I arrived with 8 books, some out of print, (Disobedience and Democracy, You can't be Neutral on a Moving Train to name a few), for Prof. Zinn to sign, including copies of A People's History,
which my friends had all asked me to get signed for them. Roz and Howard greeted me with such warmth that I felt I had known them all my life. On that first day, Roz proudly stated that one of their best friends was Armenian, David Barsamian [Talk Radio], co-author of The Future of History: Interviews with David Barsamian and Original Zinn , Conversations on History and Politics.
And that first visit was the beginning of years of meeting and signing, laughing and brief but meaningful philosophical and political discussions. Roz and Howard became fast friends. They invited us to events at Boston University honoring Prof. Zinn. In fact, I remember arriving with my father at one such event, and wandering down the aisles of the auditorium at Boston University when Roz, in the first row and spotting us, got up from her seat and hurried to the back of the auditorium to usher us down to seats in the second row! Every year, Roz and Howard would come to our home for our Christmas Eve party, sitting together on the green Victorian sofa in our living room, as those who knew them would pay homage, every year, that is, until Roz died.
Howard was so sad. I didn't know what to do for him, so, in my typical Marashtzi Armenian way, I decided to try to provide him with good Armenian nourishment. Whenever I made tava, dolma, chrtma, boulghour pilaf, cheoreg, Marash Girl's chicken soup and, of course, Marash Girl's Famous Banana Bread, I would share. And he was always gracious in accepting my gifts of food with one caveat: as we trekked into his kitchen, he would always ask, "But how am I ever going to eat all of this?" "Don't worry, you will," I would reply, as I helped him stash half of the goodies into the freezer above his refrigerator. But all good things must come to an end, they tell me, and in January of 2010, over a year ago now, Howard died. I miss him so much.
N.B. Always ready to meet the challenge of a great thinker, my father, well versed in United States history, after reading his very own signed copy of A People's History of the United States, commented, "But he's not being fair. Howard hasn't mentioned any of the United States's good points!" My father loved the United States for all it had given him, for the safe haven, for the opportunity, for the life it allowed him to provide for his family.
That is neat; thank you for sharing. Phil
ReplyDeleteNice. We are lucky for having had him. I still cherish my signed copy of A PEOPLE'S HISTORY... it is one of my best possessions (I have another copy that I use for reading!).
ReplyDeletei took all of Howard Zinn's courses in the mid sixties at Boston University, all of them. He had a lovely daughter, my age, and, of course, I promptly fell in love with her, but dared not ask her out because she was the daughter of the Zinn. in my senior year, and now enrolled in Zinn's graduate school classes in political philosophy, open to undergrads, i consoled myself by falling in love, madly, with a Sabra, a native born Israeli girl. freed of the entanglement of unrequited love for his daughter enabled me to engage Professor Zinn in conversation. The one I remember was his answer to the question of how he had the courage to buck the entire BU administration and be the first outspoken critic of the Vietnam War. you see, like my father, he feared nothing. i am sure he acquired those soulful, sentient eyes, punctuated by an easy smile, while flying bombing missions over Nazi Germany. i am also sure, given his intellect and desire to know, that he was aware of the death camps that were churning out dust and more dust of the bodies of his jewish race. it allows me to imagine the fearlessness and visceral energy that my Uncle Levon Bilezikian must have had to carry him from the safety of Aleppo in 1920 back to Marash so he could fight the Turkish army then engaged in mortal combat with the remaining population of Armenians in marash, mostly old men, women and children. Uncle Levon feared nothing, as well. the casualties incurred by the American Air Force in their daytime bombing runs (the british did the night runs) were fully 1/3 of the airmen flying those missions. it was the worse place to be in WW2. But, our American boys did it. And Zinn was one of them. It was in one of the bombing missions that his B-17 was hit by machine gun fire from messhershitt 109 fighter aircraft, or by flak, that his best friend was wounded. I believe Zinn was the bombardier, which freed him from his position once the run had been made. ONce freed, he gathered up his friend in his arms, assuring him his friend would be alright, encouraging him to live. He did not. the friend's blood poured out onto Zinn, and, in a way, stuck to his own heart, baptising him into the fraternity of another world. Zinn told me that it was in those moments when his friend was dying in his arms that his fears left him. i guess in a sense, his own life passed away with the life of his friend. Nevertheless, dad was right, Zinn was not fair. He was not fair in the way he taught his courses, and what he said in them, and in what he said in his famous history of the United States. But, then, who is fair in all things? Dad raised us never to complain about unfairness of life. To make his point, he would challenge the ether around us with the rhetorical question of 'was it fair that the Armenians were massacred by the Turks, or the Jews by the Nazi's, or this or that event of history plucked from his knowledge of history? Life is unfair, because people are. I know, because I am, at times, and so was Uncle Levon, and so was my father. Yet, they were all great men, courageous men, men of the blood.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the post, Marash Girl - I was grateful for the introduction to Prof. Zinn
ReplyDeleteAm curious....as a long time admirer of Howard Zinn,,,,,what the
ReplyDeletedinner table talk was about...you are lucky to have known him