The Boston Red Sox Win the 2013 World Series

The town of Falmouth was a bit worried when, on the first day of the World Series, one of the shops on Main Street put all of its Red Sox garb on sale for half price (the above shirt was NOT on sale!)

Haunted? Highfield Hall, Falmouth, Massachusetts

Always on the alert for hauntings, especially at Halloween, Marash Girl checked  to see if there were any houses in Falmouth, Massachusetts, reputed to have haunts . . .  and sure enough, she found reference to a house at 56 Highfield Drive . . . 

Convincing Marash Boy that there was nothing to fear, she coerced him into driving her through downtown Falmouth, across the now bike-pathed railroad tracks,  up a wooded hill to a magnificently restored mansion, a mansion with the words HIGHFIELD HALL emblazoned on the front.  Could this be the house that we had been searching out?  It certainly looked in amazingly spiffy condition for any ghost to even consider entering. . .

Thus Marash Girl had the courage to enter (as Marash Boy left in a hurry, supposedly, to search out a safe parking spot) and ask, "Is this the house that has a ghost?"  Immediately, the lady at admissions called over a volunteer, and said in low tones, "This one is yours!"

As it turned out, the volunteer tour guide was a former history teacher from the area, and knew everything that there was to know about this mansion and its ghost.  [Rather than going into the full history of the house here, let me refer you to the book, RING AROUND THE PUNCH BOWL, and/or the website, http://www.woodsholemuseum.org/woodspages/sprtsl/v17n1-HighShep.pdf

Highfield Hall, built in 1878 as the stately home of the Beebe Family, was "one of the first grand summer compounds to be built on Cape Cod" by the very family whose home on Beacon Street, Beacon Hill, Boston, was taken by eminent domain and torn down when the Massachusetts State House needed to expand.   The Beebe home in Falmouth was in extreme disrepair when, "in 2000 Town Meeting Members authorized Falmouth Selectmen to take Highfield Hall and six acres by eminent domain, and in 2001 the Town signed a lease with Historic Highfield to renovate and operate Highfield Hall. The extraordinary restoration effort that followed was made possible through donations totalling in excess of $8,000,000 — almost all of which were contributed by private individuals."

So where was the ghost?  According to our guide, visitors looking up at the house from the grounds below have, on occasion, spied a ghostly apparition looking out of the second floor bedroom window, an apparition said to be the ghost of Mary Louisa Beebe who died of cancer at the young age of 45 in that very room.

Looking out of the second floor bedroom window, Marash Girl stands where the ghost has  reputedly stood gazing out of the window at the sunken gardens below.

Standing at the back of Highfield Hall stands Marash Girl with her camera held out in front of her for protection, looking for the apparition in the center uppermost window.

Is there an apparition that the camera detects, an apparition that the naked eye cannot?

The ice house . . . if no longer ice, then what may lurk within these walls?

A convoluted path behind the mansion and beyond the ice house 
leads into the deep, dark  woods . . .  And what may emerge from these woods on 
Halloween night?

Overheard: The origin of Armenians . . . ?

Overheard at a Country Club: "I often wonder if the Armenians of the Ottoman Empire were originally Jewish folks who converted to Christianity in order to survive."

After the Marathon: A walk along the Marathon Route, Falmouth, Massachusetts

Half Marathon, Falmouth, Cape Cod, Massachusetts

Marash Girl was wakened by shouts and cheers outside of her bedroom window.  No, not her bedroom window, but the balcony overlooking Vineyard Sound in Falmouth.  Wandering sleepily over to part the curtains, she saw the sun rising over Vineyard Sound, Martha's Vineyard in the distance,  and the American flag waving over the runners running the Cape Cod Half Marathon along Surf Drive.

Photographer chastises runner as she mugged at the camera:  "You do the running, I'll take care of the photos!" cautioned the photographer.

The race heats up!

Ignoring the message painted on the road, the runners never stopped until they passed the finish line!

One bystander, however, remained unmoved by the wind or the race!

"Sweaty is BEAUTIFUL!"  "YOU'RE KINDA A BIG DEAL!"

At the Finish Line:  The Falmouth Village Green

THE FINISH LINE!

No rest for the weary, however.  Runners were reminded that they could do it again on Sunday, this time for the whole 26.21875 miles!

Overheard: A Mouse in the House

Woman: I can't get the arrow on my computer to move.

Techie: Do you have a mouse?

Woman: Yes!

Techie: Then move your mouse up and down.

Woman: I am!

Techie: And what happens?

Woman: Nothing! The arrow still doesn't move!

Techie: I'll be right over.

When the computer techie arrives, he asks the beautiful blonde to demonstrate exactly what she had been doing.

The beautiful blonde retrieves the mouse from her desk and starts waving it up and down, above her head and down to the desk, over and over.

You see, she cries out to the techie.  No matter how many times I move the mouse up and down, the arrow on my computer screen won't budge, not even an inch!

Overheard: A Dash of Cold Water

I just lost 10 pounds and none of my clothes fit me.  I'm going to buy a whole new wardrobe for my trip to Arizona!

Don't do that, countered her sister.  What if you gain all that weight back?  Think of all the money you'll have wasted!

Cat got your tongue?

Continuing to read  Sherman Alexie's INDIAN KILLER, Marash Girl was caught short by the following (page 29): the main character, John Smith, "knew that priests had cut out the tongues of Indians who continued to speak their tribal language."

Confirmation of a parallel circumstance among Armenians in the Ottoman Empire comes from the unexpected source of "Yahoo Answers". "The most confusing and curious names are those based on some trait of an ancestor. Typical examples are Topalian 'son of the cripple', Dilsizian 'son of the tongueless one' . . . Many of the origins of these names are unclear unless one understands the original context. As an example, Dilsizian indicates that an ancestor had his tongue cut out by the Turks for using the Armenian language."  

Marash Girl's father, Peter, was haunted by the memory of the tongueless man he would see walking through the marketplace in Marash -- his tongue had been cut out for speaking Armenian (rather than Turkish). Peter's mother, Grandma Yepros, would never allow Peter to speak Armenian in the streets of Marash -- her children had to speak only Turkish outside of the home.  The family spoke Armenian inside their home only.  [Somewhat related is the fact that Peter's brother, Paul, often told of having to hide his Armenian books by sitting on them whenever the Turkish gendarmes entered his classroom to make sure the teacher was teaching the class in Turkish.]

Marash Girl knows from her oral history interviews, particularly an interview with Miss G. who was born in Marash and orphaned during the genocide (the audiotaped interview stored  at the Armenian Library and Museum of America, Watertown, Massachusetts,) that the missionaries in the Armenian orphanages punished the children for speaking Armenian --  the Armenian children were told that they must speak only Turkish, as that was their new language -- they needed to forget Armenian!

Asking an Armenian historian friend, Marash Girl was scolded and told that the historian had never seen evidence that such tongue-cutting had ever occurred.  Marash Boy, as well, refused to believe tongue-cutting ever happened.

Myth? Legend? History? Reality?

Did the Turks ever cut out Armenians' tongues for speaking Armenian? Asking that question of Mashtots Professor of Armenian Studies at Harvard University elicited the following response:  Why, yes, I have seen numerous historical citings of such behaviors.

Que lastima!  Marash Girl had hoped that it was all a bad societal nightmare.

Sherman Alexie writes of his people: the Spokane Indians

Well-known writer Sherman Alexie, a self-described northwest Spokane/Coeur d'Alene Indian,  in his 1996 novel INDIAN KILLER, the title alone an amazing meld of meaning and counter meaning, describes one of his characters (on page 33):

"Because she did not dance or sing traditionally, and because she could not speak Spokane, Marie was often thought of as being less than Indian.  Her parents, who did speak Spokane, had refused to teach Marie because they felt it would be of no use to her in that world outside the reservation.  Her mother, the speech therapist at the tribal school, and her father, the principal, knew their bright daughter belonged in that larger world. . . "

Sound familiar to any of you Armenians out there?

A tisket, a tasket . . .

MARASH GIRL spied an envelope yesterday, an envelope sealed and stamped with an uncancelled stamp which sported the American flag, a long thin white business sized envelope  addressed in elegant long hand with a fountain pen and blue ink.  The envelope lay on the cement sidewalk, a half a block  and a busy cross street away from the corner mailbox.  Marash Girl helped it along.  Picked it up. Walked it to the mailbox. Dropped it in.  And wondered.  What difference would this action make in the life of the sender or the soon to be receiver of the envelope?  Did the envelope hold a payment for a bill that was long overdue?  A request for money that was desperately needed?  An invitation? A thank you note?  A love letter?  A letter beginning, "Dear John"? Marash Girl couldn't read the return address nor could she read the to whom the envelope was going, for she had not her glasses with her.  

And still she wonders . . . what import do the smallest of our actions have on the lives of others?

Some snippets of fall: Newton Corner, Massachusetts

A Contemporary Cautionary Tale . . .

A contemporary cautionary tale that arrived in Marash Girl's email not even a day after she had seen her friend driving the 1968 Merecedes . . . here's the sad tale about a long-loved, long-lived 1968 Mercedes 250 SL that had once belonged to the owner's mother . . . 

The email began:

"I totally forgot that the person who had been starting the Mercedes for me said that he had seen fluid come out of it…

But he said he thought it was nothing…..

"It’s never nothing when fluid comes out of a car!

And that’s what I told him…

"THEN,

I totally forgot and drove it.

It’s an automatic with a stick shift.

When I went to park it, I was backing into the space and it would not go into park.

I had to pull the key out of the ignition just so it would stop.

Then when I went to start it again,

I turned the key and it looked like the electrical light went on….but it would not turn over!

Did I drive the car without transmission fluid and destroy the transmission?  I fear the worst!"

AVOCADO CHOCOLATE MOUSSE

As Marash Girl has the habit of celebrating her birthday for weeks on end, her children have picked up the message -- any old day'll do for a birthday celebration.

And so Marash Girl was treated to a birthday dinner by her daughter, who cooks raw. . .  It was delicious!  Even more amazing, however, was the dessert.

One of Marash Girl's favorite vegetables is avocado, perfectly ripened, and short of simple avocado, guacamole will do.  She spied the avocado on the table, a perfectly ripe avocado!  How did you find an avocado that was ready to eat? Marash Girl asked.  The nonchalant answer from her daughter:  Oh, I just gave each one a little squeeze until I had the perfect avocado!  Marash Girl continued,   rather ungraciously, Why  are you not adding the avocado to the salad? Oh, that's for dessert, her daughter answered...

No objections there, Marash Girl thought.  Marash Girl loves ripe avocados so much, that she could eat them as appetizer, main course, and dessert!  But was she ever surprised when her daughter presented her with the dessert:  Avocado Chocolate Mousse!  Ever had it?  Here's the recipe, more or less.

AVOCADO CHOCOLATE MOUSSE

1 perfectly ripe fresh avocado, pitted and peeled
1/3 cup cocoa (raw cocoa, if you're a raw foodie, can be ordered at rawfoodworld.com)
1/3 cup agave nectar (or sugar) (raw agave nectar, if you're a raw foodie)

Blend in food processor until thick and smooth (approx. 15 seconds).  Adjust sugar and cocoa to taste.

This time-saving dessert is guilt free, dairy free, gluten free, perfect for vegetarians, popular among raw foodies and vegans alike.  Even omnivores love this birthday dessert, a dessert to be remembered!

N.B.  Marash Girl had the leftovers this morning for breakfast with fresh bananas!  What a breakfast!

Henry Van Dyke, THE UNKNOWN QUANTITY . . .

Have you ever opened an old book only to find writing inside the front cover . . . and then further to discover that the writing seemed to be that of the author's?  Not so sure?  Check  http://www.tomfolio.com/autographs/
or when all else fails, give ebay a try!  But even then, it's difficult to detect an author's true signature, especially when the author grew up in the 19th Century where everybody was taught, under penalty of pain, to write perfectly!

Was this inscription written by the author or by the previous owner,
Harry Brown of Marshfield, Massachusetts?

A Home Song

I read within a poet's book
A word that starred the page:
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage!"

Yes, that is true; and something more
You'll find, where'er you roam,
That marble floors and gilded walls
Can never make a home.

But every house where Love abides,
And Friendship is a guest,
Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:
For there the heart can rest.
                   Henry Van Dyke

Further research proved Marash Girl's book to have the writing of someone other than Henry Van Dyke.  See a true copy of Van Dyke's handwriting and signature below.

Above a sample of "the real thing" with thanks to book appraiser Clare Murphy.

"Henry Jackson van Dyke (November 10, 1852 – April 10, 1933, aged 80) was an American author, educator, and clergyman." [from Wikipedia]

A Cure for Infected Wounds

Does the history of penicillin include the fact that in Marash (according to Marash Girl's father Peter), folks would place moldy bread directly on an infected wound until it was healed?

One day left from the old days . . .

 "Eski günlerden bir gün kalmush . . ."= "One day left from the old days . . . "

Do not disturb . . . game in progress!

Armenian backgammon players  entertain themselves and passing photographers  in front of an Armenian Grocery Store in Watertown, Massachusetts . . .  After Marash Girl guessed that they were not Marashtsi or Aintabtsi, but rather Kaiserietsi -- they proudly announced that yes, she was right . . .  they were Kaiserietsi!

Sylva Natalie Manoogian prepares Shahan Natalie's manuscripts for publication

 Sylva Natalie Manoogian is presently engaged in the arduous process of translating into English and preparing her father's manuscripts for publication!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD8gjwKnJEM 

http://ampersand.gseis.ucla.edu/sylva-natalie-manoogian-research-spans-generations-of-family-history-centuries-of-world-history/

It was many years ago . . . Marash Girl will not reveal exactly how many . . . . that Sylva, then a senior at Radcliffe College (now Harvard University) sat freshman Marash Girl down and told her about Marash Boy.  "This is the man you must marry.  You are perfect for each other . . . , he's Armenian,  he's Protestant, he has blue eyes, he's getting a Ph.D. in Middle Eastern History from Harvard, AND he's Marashtsi!"

Little did Sylva (or Marash Girl, for that matter) know that many years later, Sylva's blessing would take hold.

Let Marash Girl return the favor, Sylva, and recommend that all of her readers go to the link above and read about the work you are doing: gathering, translating and publishing into book form your father's writings!

From Wikipedia:  Shahan Natalie (Armenian: Շահան Նաթալի) (1884–1983) was a member of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation's Bureau and the principal organizer of Operation Nemesis wherein the Turkish masterminds of the Armenian Genocide were assassinated.^[1] He later became a writer on Armenian national philosophy, and notable for his essay, The Turks and Us.

Zucchini got you wondering?

Making sulu is always an option when an Armenian dandigin wants to prepare fresh vegetables . . . and so when Marash Girl spied a large zucchini at the Farmer's Market (yes, she was a failure at growing her own) . . . she purchased it, deciding to try her hand at making something other than chrtma -- her siblings' least favorite food, though Marash Boy's favorite.  

Returning home, she gathered a yellow onion or two from her basket of potatoes, garlic and onions and proceeded to chop and saute the freshly harvested vegetable (onions) in olive oil and when browned, added chopped garlic, stirring, careful not to burn the garlic.  Setting that aside, she chopped up the zucchini (unpeeled) and tossed the zucchini into the sautéed onion mix, stirring the vegetables around for good measure.  Then she added a can of crushed tomatoes.  There you have a basic recipe for sulu -- a  preparation for green vegetables served over rice pilaf.  But Marash Girl, feeling lazy, didn't want to have to prepare rice when she served this dish. . . She wanted the sulu to be a dish unto itself.  She thought about adding the potatoes (that were sharing the space in the bin with the onions and garlic) but didn't like the thought of eating chunks of potatoes with the zucchini.  Thinking again (which she does only on occasion), she decided to finely chop the potatoes -- extremely finely chop the potatoes -- by pulsing them in her newly acquired Cuisinart.  (She destroyed her previous Cusinart by doing something she'll never admit to -- and replacing the machine sure cost her a "pretty penny", as the expression goes.) Stirring the finely chopped, "pulsed" potatoes into the zucchini mixture, she placed the pot (her heavy cast iron enameled LeCreuset -- orange, of course) into the oven and baked the vegetable mixture for an hour.  While the sulu was baking on a low temperature (actually, sulus are usually cooked on the stove top, not in the oven), she prepared chicken stock from the roasted chicken she had served the day before.  ( Homemade chicken broth or turkey broth made from the bones, skin, pan drippings of a roasted chicken or turkey -- after or before you've finished eating all of the roasted chicken that you care to -- boiled with water and a splash of white vinegar for about an hour.)  

When the sulu and broth were ready, both at about the same time, Marash Girl decided that she didn't feel like eating sulu or chicken broth, so she combined the two -- and served the most delicious supper ever!

N.B.  For some reason, baking the sulu in the oven made a huge difference in the flavor of the sulu . . . and, for that matter, the soup!

Hye Krisdonya - հայ քրիստոնեայ, cont'd: "Hay Krisdonia" - from the desk of Fr. Krkor Maksoudian

Yesterday, Marash Girl wrote a post sharing her curiosity:  Where and when and how is the term Hye Krisdonya - հայ քրիստոնեայ  used? (Scroll down to see Marash Girl's blog post for yesterday, or simply click this link.) 

 "Ask and it shall be given . . . " and ask she did.  Krikor Maksoudian - today, Father Krikor . .   .  Marash Girl's friend and classmate of many years ago. . .  He would know!  And he did!

In response to Marash Girl's query, Father Krikor wrote the following (reprinted below with many thanks).

The expression HAY KRISDONIA was/ is widely used in the Middle East. Local Armenians of our days have obviously forgotten many expressions used by their parents and grandparents. 

I see the phrase listed under the word ՔՐԻՍՏՈՆՅԱ in <<Ժամանակակից հայոց լեզվի բացատրական բառարան>> ["Descriptive Dictionary of Contemporary Armenian"], vol. 4, Erevan, 1980, p. 753.  The dictionary has a citation from the writer Aksel Bakunts, who flourished in the 1920-s and became a victim of the Stalinist purges in the 1930-s.  Bakunts, being from Zangezur in southeastern Armenia, wrote in Eastern Armenian.  The citation can give you some idea about the usage and meaning of the expression.  Here it is: "Since I was baptized in the [baptismal] font, I am, therefore, a HAY KRISDONYA."

At our extremity of the Armenian world, namely Cilicia, western Anatolia and the Middle East in general, the term, in addition to being a reference to one's baptismal identity, stands as a designation that distinguishes an Armenian from other Christian minorities.  In most cities under Ottoman rule, the minorities lived and worked in the Christian quarter, which in turn was divided into smaller quarters.  Each minority--Armenian, Greek, Armenian-Greek, Assyrian, Chaldean and so on--had its own quarter/quarters.  

HAY KRISDONIA should not be understood as if KRISDONIA is merely an adjective and HAY is a noun.  To a semi=literate population prior to the mid-1850-s it was probably one word.  HAY could not be anything else but KRISDONIA.  People who had converted to Islam or to the Greek Orthodox faith were not considered HAY.  The designation HAY HOROM for the Greek Orthodox Armenians is relatively new.  The actual designation was HOROM [=a person of the Byzantine Rite].  To this day, the Catholic Armenians living in the northwest of the Republic of Armenia say that they are Prank [=Frank] to distinguish themselves from the HAY KRISDONIA.  As for the Armenian Evangelicals, neither emotionally nor in real life did they consider themselves as being separate from the rest of the Armenian world.  To them, the Armenian Church was always the MOTHER CHURCH.  

It’s difficult to say when the expression HAY KRISDONIA began to be used, since it is more colloquial, as you could see in the citation above.  My suspicion is that it is a Modern Armenian expression probably going back a few hundred years.  Don't forget that the beginnings of Modern Armenian go back to the 15th century.  

In our times, Armenians from the Middle East use the term to distinguish an Armenian -- be it Aposltolic, Catholic or Evangelical -- from an Arab Christian, and by "Arab Christian" they understand Christians who are Arabic speakers.

Prayerfully,

Fr. Krikor Maksoudian

Fr. Krikor added, "P.S.  I am Marashtsi on my grandmother’s side (Topalian)."

Hye Krisdonya - հայ քրիստոնեայ

Marash Girl's father, who was born in Marash 100 years ago, a survivor of the genocide of the Armenian people, often commented that in the "old country", Armenians were not known or referred to by the term  "Armenian", but rather "Armenian Christian":  "Hye Krisdonya"  (հայ քրիստոնեայ).

Marash Girl herself had never heard the term, nor has she ever heard the expression to this day.  Was the term  "Hye Krisdonya"  (հայ քրիստոնեայ) used by Armenians referring to themselves as "Hye Krisdonya"  (հայ քրիստոնեայ) or was it members of the non-Armenian world that referred to Armenians as such; was it simply a descriptive term or was it a pejorative term foisted upon Armenians by a world antagonistic to Christianity; or, finally, did the term imply that there were Armenians who were Christian, and there were Armenians who were not . . . who practiced other religions.  

Marash Girl asked Marash Boy if he had ever heard the term.  He could not remember ever having heard the term.  Marash asked his older sister Ranek if she had ever heard the term.  Ranek thought for a moment and after a bit said, "Yes, my grandmother Tervant (who lived in Marash during the 19th Century) would use the term referring to a guest who had arrived at the house; when she would comment, "Hye Krisdonya", as a child, I just  assumed she meant, "He is an Armenian from Krisdonya."  

Marash Girl wrote to an acquaintance in Lebanon -- a young Armenian man -- and posed the question.  His email came back as follows:  "My grandmother was a Catholic Armenian who used to tell me that the Turks called Armenians Ermeniler for Apostolic Armenians and Katoliklar, Protestantlar for Catholic and Protestant Armenians."  

Or could "Hye Krisdonya" imply, as was suggested by a good friend, that If you're not a Christian, you don't get to be an Armenian!

Unfortunately, this still does not answer Marash Girl's question.  When and how and by whom was the term "Hye Krisdonya" used?  An answer, please?

HAS ECONOMIC UNCERTAINTY GOT YOU DOWN?

Some advice from Marash Girl's Grandma Yepros:  May all your troubles be money troubles!
(Or was it, "May your troubles be only money troubles!")  In any case, you get the point . . .

Never go visiting "empty-handed"

Marash Girl can never go visiting "empty-handed".  She thought it was an Armenian thing, or a Marash thing, but when she was walking along Union Street towards the parking lot in Newton Centre, (after the monthly Radcliffe Reunion lunch), she compared notes with a classmate . . . how both of them always purchased little gifts whenever they saw them . . . why?  Not because they needed them, but so they would have a surprise gift to take with them if they were ever notified at the last minute of a birthday or an anniversary, or a simple visit, or if anyone visited them from abroad. Marash Girl always thought it was an Armenian thing . . . she can remember when her father would stop at a drugstore to buy a box of Whitman chocolates to take to the relatives we were visiting . . . or her mother going so far as to bring a big pot of dolma with her to a non-Armenian home that had invited the family to dinner . . . but no, my friend was Jewish; she, too, had been brought up never to go visiting empty-handed . . . And you?

A BIG FAT CRISIS

At a recent WBUR fundraiser, volunteers were rewarded with free books and free food. Note the title of the book lounging between the cream cheese and the pastries!

"Free Food, Free Fat"                                                          Photo by Marash Girl

Rowley, Massachusetts: Salt Marsh at Sunset

If you're travelling to the North Shore and you love mosquitos, don't miss the Rowley Salt Marsh at sunset!  It's beautiful, but, oh . . . those little winged creatures'll getcha if you don't watch out!

                                                     Rowley, Massachusetts:  Salt Marsh at Sunset                                        Photo by Marash Girl

Missing Newton Girl Found in Natick, Massachusetts

Austin Street, Newtonville Square.         Photo by Marash Girl

The young woman who went missing from Newtonville (MA) last week will be missing forever, as her body was found in Natick several days ago.  Her death is symbolized above by this poster tacked to a telephone pole outside of Starbucks in Newtonville Square, a poster off of which the image of the young woman's face has been summarily torn away.  Marash Girl grieves for the suffering that the girl must have experienced, and for the suffering of her family and the community.  ԱՍՏՎԱծ ՀՈԳԻՆ ԼՈՒՍԱՎՈՐԵ:

Popcorn in the Air

It was only two days ago that Marash Boy was chatting away about a friend who touted the fact that he (his friend, not Marash Boy) was in the popcorn business.  [FYI, popcorn is one of Marash Girl's favorite foods --  (it does fit into the required daily nutrients, does it not?  Especially with butter and salt!)] -- so Marash Girl's ears perked up.  What do you mean, the popcorn business, she asked Marash Boy. Oh, he answered; that's just another way of saying that you own movie theaters. What? (wondered Marash Girl).

It seems that when you own a movie theatre, you make your profit on the popcorn, not on the movie!

Well, as usual, Marash Boy was way ahead of the curve. Yesterday, grinning, he dragged out an article from Sunday's New York Times Magazine which concluded, "Find a good popcorn location and build a theater around it."

Now here's a thought . . . could it be that movie theatre owners learned from watching vendors at baseball games?  Which came first, anyway?  Or should the question be asked once again, "Who's on first?"

Be thankful for what you have!

When someone is complaining that they don't have what they want but rather some lesser thing . . . we Armenians from Marash would always say, öp de başına koy = Kiss it and put it on your (fore)head. . . or in English parlance, "Be thankful for what you have!" "Consider it a blessing!"

Yet another instance in which kissing and foreheads are involved:

Whenever Marash Boy's grandmother, born in Marash in the 19th Century, and a survivor of the Armenian genocide (1915-1923), spied even the smallest piece of bread that may have been dropped on the floor, she would pick it up, kiss it, and put it to her forehead before eating it . . . Having traveled for days through the desert on a "death march", she knew what it was to go with neither food nor water . . . she knew the blessing of bread.

[It should be noted here that in the Armenian Apostolic Church in Indian Orchard, Massachusetts, "mas" (Armenian soft flat bread that has been blessed during the "badarak") is served at the end of the service as all leave the chapel.  When eating this "mas", parishioners kiss the small piece of bread before placing it in their mouths.]

Slacklining on Plum Island

Marash Girl had heard of putting yourself "on the line", and of "walking the line", but never of "walking" or "putting yourself on" the slackline.

Marash Girl first witnessed slacklining on Newtonville Avenue in Newtonville (Massachusetts) several weeks ago (see above).  It wasn't long after that that she found an unofficial slackline installed on the beach at Plum Island, challenging passersby to "put their balance on the line". . .

in this case, while holding a cigarette in one hand and chugalugging a beer with the other!  

Contemporary Sculpture on the Waterfront, Newburyport, Massachusetts

ROBERT MOTES, "AN IMAGINED PLACE"- NEWBURYPORT, MASSACHUSETTS 
Photo by Marash Girl, 10/2/13

Unable to walk along the beach at the Federal Wild Life Sanctuary on Plum Island (see yesterday's blogpost), Marash Girl took comfort in the Contemporary Sculpture at the Waterfront in downtown Newburyport, Massachusetts.  The only problem with taking comfort in the sculpted chair?  It was facing away from the water!

U.S. Government Shutdown: Plum Island, Newburyport, MA, October 1, 2013

A beautiful October day and 85 degrees convinced Marash Girl to drive north for an hour and a half in order to walk her favorite beach and national wildlife refuge, but when she arrived, this is what she found:

In preparation for Halloween . . . A No Parking Sign Like No Other

An admirer of Marash Girl posted the above sign on a maple tree on Maple Avenue, just below a hole that houses a nest of squirrels.  The sign reads:  Broom Parking ONLY -- All others will be Toad!

October Flowers Bring . . .

                          Fall flowers -- dainty but powerful -- braving the soon to come frost . . .
                                                                                        Photo by Marash Girl