Thursday, September 7, 2017
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
|"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter." MLK |
Photo credit: Lorig Charkoudian, Washington, DC
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
One of Marash Girl's favorite stories is about the Boy Scout who was intent on helping a little old lady cross the street. No matter how much the little old lady insisted that she needed no help crossing the street, the Boy Scout persisted, determined to help the little old lady cross the street. Finally, having achieved his goal, the little old lady turned to the Boy Scout saying, "But I didn't want to cross the street!"
Monday, September 4, 2017
Years ago, Kenar and Marash Girl collected Armenian Nursery Rhymes from Medzmama when the little ones were little. Those rhymes are somewhere deep in the files, to be discovered one day (soon, Marash Girl hopes). In the meantime, please accept this reposting from Facebook with thanks to Maro Nercessian Katalaris. Can anyone out there provide a translation?
Armenian Nursery Rhyme/ Lullaby Aintab mothers said to their children. Remember Armenian language was spoken differently back then.
Djor, Djor, Djor Mama,
Djorig maman jam g'erta
Gorgod abour bish enna,
Yeghe vran khesh enna.
Kkachon oude, josh enna,
Lop, Lop Ashenna.
Sunday, September 3, 2017
Years ago, folks (including Marash Girl's family) would go for a ride, driving west along the old Boston Road (now Route 20). They would stop at springs along the way, springs along the roadside, to fill their gallon-sized jugs, jugs folks always carried with them in their cars, thermos jugs with spouts from which clear, cool spring water would flow hours later at the picnic grounds. There were no Howard Johnson's, no Macdonald's. Just a big picnic basket and a big thermos jug, and a car full of happy people, three generations of happy people.