THE MUSICIAN'S SECRET by Litty Mathew

Marash Girl first learned of THE MUSICIAN'S SECRET on April 24, 2015, when Tom Ashbrook interviewed Litty Mathew in Glendale, California, by telephone from WBUR in Boston.  Mathew's first novel, a mystery riddled with history, a history riddled with mystery, THE MUSICIAN'S SECRET, a recently published work of fiction, is a mystery set in contemporary Glendale, California. The mystery is dependent upon the knowledge of the history of what happened 100 years ago to the Armenian people, knowledge which is gradually imparted to the reader throughout the narrative. The narrator, an 85 year old man and famous duduk player of Los Angeles, captivates the reader (just as he is known to captivate his audiences) from the very first sentence on page one.  A must read, whether or not you like mysteries, whether or not you like music, whether or not you like Glendale, California, whether or not you like Armenians!

Eggs Benedict à la Marash Martha

Marash Martha writes again.  To make poached eggs or "eggs benedict" even better than any restaurant, just add a droplet of white vinegar and a droplet of olive oil to your simmering water; crack an egg (one at a time) into a pyrex cup and slide the egg (one at a time) from the cup into a slotted cup or spoon which is in the simmering water, the spoon having been previously rubbed over with olive oil (that will assist in helping the egg to keep its shape,) placing the egg which is still in the slotted spoon or slotted cup for 3 minutes (or longer depending on how firm you like your egg) in the shallow simmering water.  Before you begin this process, get a slice of provolone cheese, put it over some nice ever so slightly warmed freshly sliced bread of your choice (my favorite is organic raisin nut bread); when the provolone is slightly melted over the bread,  serve the poached egg over the melted cheese over the bread.  Enjoy this delicious version of eggs "benedict" sans sauce!

Bunnies Flee Bobcats

Marash Martha writes from the beautiful California desert. "It's 6 A.M. and it's 84 degrees, very humid, although a gentle breeze just picked up.  It'll be going up to 111 degrees (fahrenheit) today.  I'm walking through a botanical garden and I just saw a couple of cottontail bunnies scampering across the golf course. They probably sensed the bobcats that have been sighted around here recently.  Haven't seen the endangered long-horned sheep in a while, but occasionally they come down from the mountains and nibble on the grass of the golf course. . . they have the right of way; not the golf balls!  The ducks are gliding through the pond with their ducklings following behind; the geese are nibbling on the neatly trimmed grass of the putting green, oblivious to the bobcat possibility. All is well."

President Barack Obama with Amazing Grace

http://www.thenewcivilrightsmovement.com/davidbadash/watch_president_barack_obama_just_sang_amazing_grace_at_rev_clementa_pinckney_s_funeral
[After clicking the link, when you arrive at the page, scroll down and click white arrow in center, and join in!]

President Barack Obama sings and heals with  Amazing Grace!  Truly moving . . . and amazing!

Thirsty on a Hot Summer's Day? Try Panaché!

Marash Girl's friend Hélène, born in Marseille, came to visit on a hot summer's evening.  As they sat on the front porch, hoping for a cooling breeze, Hélène said, "I'd love a cool drink -- do you know how to make panaché?"

"Panaché?" queried Marash Girl.

"Oh, it's wonderful!  So thirst-quenching.  We used to have it at picnics when we were kids in the south of France.  It's very common there!  Do you have gingerale?"

"Sure," answered Marash Girl.

"And beer?"

"The beer my son Deron made on his birthday, if that's okay!"

Hélène continued with the recipe.  

"Panaché is half beer, half gingerale.  So cooling  . . . In France, the gingerale is a bit more lemony, so sometimes we add a bit of lemon here in the U.S.A. . . . You can order it all over France . . . The Irish love it too . . . they call it shanty. . . But a lot of bartenders here don't know it. It's so thirst-quenching — great for summer."

Marash Girl brought the gingerale and the beer -- cold from the refrigerator -- no ice.  Hélène made the panaché . . . "Delicious!" she said.  "But your son's beer is so strong!"

"They were so hungry, they even ate sparrows . . . poor sparrows."

"They were so hungry, they even ate sparrows . . . poor sparrows," remembered Marash Girl's father.  "The people would prop a large cup under a stick, attached a string to the stick, put food under the cup, and wait at a distance.  When a sparrow entered to eat the crumbs, they would pull the string and the cup would fall over the sparrow.  Peter related tales of life, tales of hunger, tales of death and deportation in Marash during the "aksoroutioun" . . .  He never forgot.

A Crucifix Marks The Fountain of Zeitoun (Zeytun, Zeitun)

Zeytun Historical Drinking Fountain - Photo taken August 2014?
Suleymanlı - Zeytun tarihi içme suyu çeşmesi ve evleri
Suleymanlı - Zeitun
The fountain is assumed to be about 400 years old.
"Zeitun grand fountain, a three-arched, three-spring fountain (assumed to be about 400 years old), is adorned with symbols of eternity."
Photo Courtesy of Bir Zamanlar Marash (Facebook)

"There is a mark on one side of the fountain which is made by whom. ( I can not advise where the mark is, not to exterminate treasure hunter.) . . . a crucifix on the fountain."

Remembering the courageous Armenians of Zeitoun who once, no doubt, drank from this fountain . . . they gave their lives for their people . . . .  Marash Girl wonders if the "mark" is in Armenian . . . 

Death, Divorce, Departure

The three D's -- Death, Divorce, Departure -- (or are they really only 2 D's) are to blame for the many losses in Marash Girl's life. She has had family, and lost family . . . had friends, and lost  friends -- to death, divorce, or departure.  Today she is losing another friend who departs for Davis, California, tomorrow for a wonderful new job and new life.  Farewell, my friend. . . God be with you 'til we meet again.

Happy Father's Day on Wilbraham Mountain

Although the mulberry tree is gone, the day was beautiful, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Karoun was dancing to Armenian music.  Shish kebab, pilaf, salata on an oriental rug covered picnic table under a tent, looking over the valley from Wilbraham Mountain. The high note of the day were the song birds and their songs, and, much to  the surprise of the gathered, Arax's conversation (in bird whistles) with the mockingbird!                                       Photo by Marash Girl

Happy Father's Day!

Remembering Father's Day on Wilbraham Mountain, Marash Boy picks white mulberries from the mulberry trees planted along the Charles River in Watertown, Massachusetts.   It isn't Wilbraham Mountain, but it is mulberries!  Who planted them, we'll never know!

Lower Manhattan Honors "Edison" Power; Watertown Honors Water Power

At the corner of Pearl and Fulton Streets, a commemorative plaque              installed in 1917 at the site of the former Pearl Street Station. Plaque reads, "1882-1917 In a building on this site an electric plant supplying the first Edison Underground Central Station System in this country and forming the origin of New York's present electrical system began operation on Sept. 4, 1882, according to plans conceived and executed by Thomas Alva Edision to . To commemorate an epoch-making event, this tablet is erected by the American Scenic and Historic Preservation Society. The New York Edison Company."

From the internet:  In September 1882 in New York, the Pearl Street Station was established by Edison to provide electric lighting in the lower Manhattan Island area. The station ran until destroyed by fire in 1890. The station used reciprocating steam engines to turn direct-current generators. Because of the DC distribution, the service area was small, limited by voltage drop in the feeders. The War of Currents eventually resolved in favor of AC distribution and utilization, although some DC systems persisted to the end of the 20th century. DC systems with a service radius of a mile (kilometer) or so were necessarily smaller, less efficient of fuel consumption, and more labor-intensive to operate than much larger central AC generating stations.

  

Dylan Marie's grandfather and aunt view the Edison plaque in between visits to newly born Dylan Marie.

And in Watertown, Massachusetts, along the Charles River, this plaque commemorates water power:  "This stone wall marks the southern edge of the historic Mill Creek Canal which provided power for Mayhew's Mill in the mid 1600's."

Waterpower: The Charles River, Watertown, Massachusetts, site of Mayhew's Mill

From the internet:   After Thomas Mayhew built America’s first grist mill in 1638 – in what is now known as Watertown Square – the Town grew into a mill village whose river and its falls accounted for the booming industrial growth along the riverbanks still in evidence today. . .

Photos by Marash Girl

Lighthouse on the Mind

Marash Girl has always wanted a house on the beach, but instead she got 1) a house on the Connecticut River, and later 2) a cabin on top of Wilbraham Mountain.  But never her dream, so she began to create her dream on the green buffet (better known as the Green Monster) that sat facing anyone that entered the cabin.  She collected miniature lighthouses from  the yard sales in Wilbraham -- from folks who had been to the Cape, purchased a lighthouse, brought it back to their Wilbraham home, and realized that it had no meaning there.  But it had meaning for Marash Girl, as she gathered her lighthouses and placed them on the top of the buffet in the cabin at the top of Wilbraham Mountain.  Even there, her dream was not to be, as the tornado of June 1, 2011, took the cabin, lighthouses and all.  Not to be daunted, once again, Marash Girl has begun collecting lighthouses and has placed them in the  corner of her Newton Corner kitchen.  She's still hoping for a place at the beach, but whether or not that ever becomes a reality, she has her lighthouses!

AT NEHGS, DEBORAH M. CHILD PRESENTS SOLDIER, ENGRAVER, FORGER

Deborah Child presents her newly published book, SOLDIER, ENGRAVER, FORGER
 at the New England Historic Genealogical Society     Photo by Marash Girl

Yesterday evening, at the NEHGS on Newbury Street in Boston, Deborah Child, author of  SOLDIER, ENGRAVER, FORGER, presented a fascinating look into the life of her subject, Richard Brunton, who, as her title suggests, was a deserting soldier for the Brits in the Revolutionary War, settled (unsettled, actually) in America . . . an artist and engraver, and a forger of currency.  Included in her presentation were slides of his work which included counterfiet paper  currency and coins as well as some of the earliest pre-printed family registers in the new world.  "Despite his many talents, he spent years living on the fringes of society, forging and counterfeiting currency, until his death in a New England poorhouse in 1832."  He was, apparently by necessity, always on the move, in and out of New England towns, in and out of prison.  But he survived by dint of his artistry and his cunning.  (For more information on Richard Brunton, buy the book!)

All this brings to mind Marash Girl's Uncle Paul (Boghos) who loved to tell tale of his namesake, the engraver Boghos who was Armenian, a master counterfeiter of United States paper money. According to Uncle Paul,  counterfeit bills and counterfeit anything became named "bogus" after the the master counterfeiter Boghos.

No indication of this story on the internet, but a tale that Marash Girl grew up with.  Have any of you, dear readers, heard this tale? Is it only a tale, or is there some truth to it?  

Two Oaks, Two Stories

From mountain top to ocean side the mighty oak prevails.

 Only 200 years old, Edgartown's White Oak on Fuller Street, Edgartown, 

opposite the back entrance to the Harbor View Inn.

So that no one could ever say that there was no room at the inn, the Harbor View in Edgartown on Martha's Vineyard decided to expand, but in order to expand, it had to cut down an Edgartown  landmark:  its mighty white oak.  Luckily the Inn's back door neighbor decided to save the oak and by hiring a special ferry, was able to transport a crane from "America" to the Vineyard, in order to save the mighty oak, transporting it by crane across the street to his front yard on Fuller Street, and there it stands, the 200 year old white oak of Edgartown.

On Wilbraham Mountain, a mighty white oak stood guarding the mountain top.  It was there that Uncle Levon Charkoudian would rest, read and picnic when he was healing in the 1920's.  And it was there that the Charkoudians began to picnic as a family, and there that the white oak graced the front yard of the Charkoudian family cabin until, one day, of its own accord, the 300 year old white oak fell, and soon after (ten years later), the tornado took down the Charkoudian family cabin and the rest of the trees on Wilbraham Mountain.

PLANT EXCHANGE ATTRACTS NEWTON GARDENERS WHO GIVE AND RECEIVE

Newton, Massachusetts:  Novice gardeners and long-time gardeners, young and old, gathered to share and learn at Newton's Second Annual Plant Exchange sponsored by the Newton Parks and Recreation Commission. The event attracted gardeners from all over the Garden City on a beautiful Saturday, June 13, at the Parks and Recreation Offices in Newton Corner. Folks brought indoor plants and outdoor plants to exchange with their neighbors. On site Master Gardeners answered questions and offered advice as to which plants were best for which gardens.  

Mark your calendars so as not  to miss Newton's Third Annual Plant Exchange set for sometime in June of 2016.  

Lost your keys? Try this!

From Marash Girl's Sister-In-Law, store manager:

A very nice older gentleman was in the store.  For some reason I must have shared with him my frustration that I had lost the keys to the store.  He suggested that, in order to find the keys,  I use the phrase that had always worked for him.  Knowing I would not remember to word my search request exactly as he said it, I asked him if he would please write it down. 

“Infinite intelligence of my subconscious mind reveal the (Name the item) that I am looking for." 

The quote above is exactly what he wrote down for me on a GNC register slip many years ago. The phrase has never failed me. I have kept the slip of paper on which he wrote the magic words.  I have referred to it many times and imagine I will again in the future.

Have you tried it?  Did you find what was missing?

Dylan Marie: "Happy to be Heading Home!" June 13, 2015

5 DAY OLD DYLAN MARIE IN HER BASSINETTE, ALL DRESSED UP IN HER "GOING HOME" OUTFIT,  CUDDLES ONE FOOT UNDER HER "YORGAN"   AND WITH A SMILE, SAYS TO ALL WHO WILL HEAR:  "SO HAPPY TO BE GOING HOME WITH MOMMY MEGHAN AND DADDY DERON!"                                                                                             Photo by Daddy Deron    

 Auntie Lorig with niece: 6 day old Dylan Marie at home on Wall Street, June 14, 2015

                                                                                     

Marash Girl Thanks the Massachusetts Board of Rabbis for Honoring the 100th Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide

Honoring the One Hundredth Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide

A Statement by the Massachusetts Board of Rabbis

Contact: Rabbi Victor Reinstein, Chair, MBR Public Policy Committee (rabbi@neharshalom.org; 617-522-3618) and Rabbi Howard Jaffe, MBR President (rabbi@templeisaiah.net; 781-862-7160)

The Massachusetts Board of Rabbis reaches out in solidarity and sorrow to Armenians everywhere on the one hundredth anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. We acknowledge the pain carried through generations of a people decimated, the psychic scars transmitted, the truncated branches of family trees yet to regenerate. We hear the echoes of pleading voices long stilled that call us to remember, to learn, to witness. We call for universal recognition of what happened on the plains of Anatolia, the 1915-1923 atrocities carried out by the Ottoman government. Only truth shall be surety for the timeless cry of "Never Again."

Details unfold as a scroll of lamentation, these we remember and pour our hearts out. We remember the hundreds of Armenian intellectuals, the writers, artists, doctors and lawyers, the communal and political leaders arrested and executed on April 24, 1915. We remember the desert death marches, the killing squads, and the concentration camps. We remember the one and a half million Armenians killed of some two million in their ancestral homeland prior to World War I, mourning the destruction and exile of an ancient people. We remember the use of trains for deportation to death, cattle cars packed with human beings, portent of genocide to come. We remember the heroic efforts of American Ambassador Henry Morgenthau, the missionaries and aid workers who cried out to the world for response. We remember the continuing denials and the shame of refusing to recognize what happened, to call it for what it was.

We remember words that challenge silence and disallow denial. Words of witness by Ambassador Morgentau, laying bare the plan by its architect, Talat Pasha: "It is no use for you to argue..., we have already disposed of three quarters of the Armenians...; we have got to finish with them...." Igniting the flames of one genocide from the embers of another, Adolph Hitler, his memory be blotted out, cynically asked, "Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?" We honor with pride and humility the work of Raphael Lemkin, a Polish Jew who did speak, who coined the word "genocide" in 1943, his long held anguish for Armenians merging in the midst of the Holocaust with anguish for his own people.

We take to heart Elie Wiesel's lament for the "double killing" of Armenians that happens through silence. Challenging Turkey to acknowledge what happened, it is our challenge, as well. Recognition of another's suffering and willingness to describe it accurately should never be a matter of political expediency. The prevention of future genocides rests with our willingness to acknowledge those of the past. As the Holocaust should not be subsumed within the Second World War, neither should the Armenian Genocide be subsumed within the First World War.

We call on Turkey to recognize the Armenian Genocide. Heirs to the Ottomans, Turkey's burden is also an opportunity to insure that what happened one hundred years ago will no longer define the relationship today between descendants of the victims and descendants of the perpetrators. We call on the United States to unequivocally recognize the Armenian Genocide, affirming our commitment to justice and giving meaning to annual expressions of condolence and sorrow. We call on Israel to unequivocally recognize the Armenian Genocide, giving voice to the moral legacy of its own emergence from the ashes of the Holocaust.

Toward healing among communities and peoples:
We call on the American Jewish community through its official organizations to unequivocally recognize the Armenian Genocide, to apologize for past reticence, to reach out from heart to heart.
We call on local Jewish communities to learn about the Armenian Genocide and to reach out to their Armenian neighbors, building friendship and cooperation.

We call on all people to refrain from manipulating past horrors to demonize members of any people or faith today, Christian, Muslim, or Jew.
In the midst of Anatolia where the Biblical Mount Ararat rises, Noah's ark found rest, a dove with its olive branch still waiting to alight. To give rest to the dead and peace to the living, a rainbow promise of never again, the Massachusetts Board of Rabbis calls for universal recognition of the Armenian Genocide.

Dr. Marian Mesrobian MacCurdy speaks on SACRED JUSTICE: THE VOICES AND LEGACY OF THE ARMENIAN OPERATION NEMESIS

Yesterday evening, at NAASR in Belmont, Massachusetts, Dr. Marian Mesrobian MacCurdy spoke about the inspiration of her new book, SACRED JUSTICE to a sell-out audience (free admission); she recalled her childhood as an Armenian girl growing up with grandparents who had survived the Armenian Genocide, with a grandfather was one of the leaders of NEMESIS (a fact she never knew until years after he passed away and she and her grandmother found his letters, all damp and mildewed, in the basement of his house)  -- and more generally, on how writing our story, telling our story can mediate trauma, on how Armenians become survivors by telling their story.
"The book includes a large collection of previously unpublished letters, found in the upstairs study of the author's grandfather, Aaron Sachaklian, letters that show his strategies and plans and those of Shahan Natalie and Armen Garo in carrying out the covert operation known as 'Operation Nemesis, the covert operation created to assassinate the architects of the Armenian Genocide.'"

Marian MacCurdy speaking with Judy Sarian .

Marian MacCurdy inscribes and signs a copy of her book
SACRED JUSTICE for Judy Sarian.

The Family Welcomes Dylan Marie on June 9, 2015

Deron and Meghan, the proud parents, celebrating the night before the birth.

Waiting . . . 

 

"Tuesday's child is full of grace. . ."

Dylan Marie, at the age of 2 hours, greets her grandparents with open eyes 

as her father wheels her to her room.

Proud Daddy Deron introduces his beautiful daughter,
Dylan Marie, to the world.
Dylan Marie, born on Tuesday,  June 9, 2015, at 9:37 AM,
New York Presbyterian Hospital, Lower Manhattan
This photo by Dylan Marie's Uncle Clint on the afternoon of her birth.

"Beautiful Dreamer"

Auntie holding Dylan Marie says, "Karoun -- this is just how you looked when you were born!"

You are my sunshine . . . so sang Nisha and Marash Girl as they cuddled little Dylan Marie on her first day in this world.  Dylan Marie snuggled in and listened happily, listened happily, that is, until Marash Girl began harmonizing, at which point Dylan Marie started screaming.  As soon as Marash Girl joined Nisha in the chorus (sans harmony), Dylan Marie stopped crying and cuddled up; but when Marash Girl began to harmonize again, Dylan Marie began bawling; once again, when Marash Girl stopped the harmonizing, and sang in chorus with Nisha, Dylan Marie stopped her sobbing and listened contentedly.  

Amazing, but Dylan Marie appears to have perfect pitch, even at the tender age of one day!     

Աչքներդ լույս լինի. Մորով ու հորով մեծանա.

MANHATTAN: SOUTH STREET SEAPORT HONORS ITS HERITAGE

A Slip of the Tongue

Earlier this week, dear reader, you read of the trip to South Station.  

The trip from Grand Central Station to the Best Western Seaside (definitely the best place to stay if you like walking along the water while you view the bridges crossing the East River) -- that trip was a bit different.  Lucky enough to pick up a cab right out side of Grand Central, Marash Girl and Marash Boy settled in, calling out, "Best Western, Peck Slip". The cabbie, a fellow with a slight accent though Marash Girl didn't recognize the accent at all and therefore did not strike up a conversation --  the cabbie headed out with great assurance.

"We've arrived,"  he said.

"But this isn't the place!"

"You said Peck Slip!"

  

"But this isn't Peck Slip.  Wait a minute.  Let me get the hotel on the phone," said Marash Girl, concerned that she had given the driver the wrong address.

  

"No, it's on the corner of . . . ." the hotel assured us.

"I took you where you said you wanted to go," the cabbie insisted.  "Peck Slip."

"But the Best Western Seaside is not here."

"It is here that you told me to take you, to Peck Slip," said the Cabbie.  

"No, it's not."

 "This is Peck Slip," said he said.  

"But this is not the hotel," said Marash Girl.  

Finally, with the help of the Best Western Seaside Inn (Downtown Manhattan) on the phone,  it got sorted out. The driver, not a native English speaker, (but perhaps a native filcher,) had (or had he?) heard Pike Slip when Marash Girl had said Peck Slip; he had dutifully driven us directly to Pike Slip, assured that he, and his passengers, were in the right place. 

What a difference a vowel makes.

John Mitchell Captures the Brooklyn Bridge from the Manhattan side of the East River

The Brooklyn Bridge from the Manhattan side of the East River

John Mitchell captures the Brooklyn Bridge on Canvas

Marash Girl captures John Mitchell's rendition of the Brooklyn Bridge on Camera

   Photos by Marash Girl                                                     For more of his artwork, see www.JohnMitchellWorld.com

Armenians, Kurds, and a Trip to Boston's South Station

The taxi arrived 10 minutes early.  

The driver's face was familiar, but not because he had driven them to Logan and South Station on numerous occasions.  No. He looked and sounded like so many of the Armenian men that Marash Girl and Marash Boy remember from their childhood! Because he spoke with a familiar accent,  Marash Girl felt comfortable querying, "May I ask where you're from?"  He answered, "I hope it won't offend you!"  So Marash Girl started guessing.  "Hayasdan?  Armenia?"  He said, "I know a lot of Armenians.  I eat Armenian food, and I even call an Armenian woman 'MAMA'."  So Marash Girl kept guessing. "Lebanon?  Syria? Egypt? Iraq?"  "Right there," he said.  "Turkey?"  "Yes!"  

"Türkce konuşuyorsunuz?" Marash Girl asked.  
"Evet!" the driver replied.  

As it turned out, Memet (the driver) was from Diarbekir (Southeastern Anatolia) and had survived  a genocide himself, one committed by the Turkish government against his people -- the Kurds.  He speaks, reads and writes five languages although he never went to school. (His parents, as many Kurdish parents were wont to do, did not send him to school because they did not want him to be Turkified by attending Turkish schools and learning the  Turkish language and the Turkish take on history.) "My four brothers still live in Diarbekir.  They each have 14 children.  I have only two.  I guess I should return to Diarbekir and have 12 more!"  Marash Girl remembered that the Armenian women reportedly said (early in the 20th century), "When those Turks kill one, we'll bring two!"

Marash Girl asked if the Armenians in Diarbekir were fightiing alongside the PKK - Memt's answer -- "No.  The Armenians in Diarbekir are a bit confused.  You know that they too experienced genocide at the hands of the Turks."

Yes, Marash Girl knew that. Both Marash Girl's father and Marash Boy's mother were survivors from Marash of that very genocide, the Armenian Genocide which is commemorating its 100th year anniversary this year, 2015.

When Marash Girl and Marash Boy told Memet Kort that their parents were from Marash, Memet grinned:  "Oh," he exclaimed,  "they make the most delicious ice cream there!"

Louis Tiffany leaves his mark on St. Andrew's Church, Edgartown, Martha's Vineyard

Looking for a respite from the winds and the rains of life? St. Andrews Church on North Summer Street in Edgartown, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts, is open for all who wish to worship, or simply escape (if only for a moment) from the winds and the rains of life.

Tiffany seen from the outside.

Marash Girl wandered in one day last week and was taken by the comfort offered by the church sanctuary with its stained glass windows.  She didn't realize until her second visit that there, on the front of the church to the right of the altar (which she learned later was the bow of a dory from the schooner "Northern Lights") is a stained glass window created and signed in the lower right corner by Louis Tiffany.  Wanna see it?

Never deny a child a treat on Halloween . . .

Marash Girl realizes that it's not yet Halloween, but here she is in Edgartown, at the site of a major disappointment suffered by her grandchildren.

A number of years ago, Enila and Iffar visited Marash Girl in Edgartown on Halloween.  Trick or treating among the shops, the children  noticed that other children in costume had gone into Murdick's Fudge and asked for a treat, receiving in return a small amount of candy.  Excited, Enila and Iffar followed suit. Although they were dressed in costume and it was Halloween, they were denied  even the smallest piece of candy by the lady behind the counter at Murdick's Fudge.  Marash Girl has never forgotten the look of disappointment on her grandchildren's faces that day.  Although Marash Girl had been about to purchase several pounds of fudge to send across the country to her friends and relatives that Halloween, she did not.  

To this day, when she walks  by Murdick's Fudge, she remembers the disappointed faces of her grandchildren, and will never, no never again, purchase candy from  Murdick's Fudge in Edgartown, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts.

Marash Girl meets vocalist Kate Taylor and artist John Hager at Aquinnah, Martha's Vineyard

Marash Girl meets vocalist Kate Taylor and artist John Hager at Aquinnah (formerly known as Gay Head) a week after the Gay Head Light (the lighthouse on Aquinnah, Martha's Vineyard) had been moved 150 feet eastward to avoid its tumbling into the Atlantic Ocean due to erosion of the Gay Head Cliffs.

Artist John Hager turns his back on the Gay Head light in order to paint the landscape before him.

Detail of photo above:  painting in progress by John Hager

Artist John Hager and vocalist Kate Taylor prepare to leave after an interesting interchange with Marash Girl (which included discussion of Hager's Viking ancestry)  at Aquinnah, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts    

Don't miss Kate Taylor's show -- it promises to be great!  

July 14, 8 PM at Aquinnah Town Hall, July 15, 8 PM at West Tilbury Grange Hall, 

Martha's Vineyard