Is Your Sixth Sense Telling You Something?

And, apropos of yesterday's blog post, Marash Girl herewith repeats herself: "If you feel that your sixth sense is telling you something, don't ignore it!!! Pay attention . . . it may be something of importance!" Especially today, on March 6th!

Don't Hesitate To Call!!

It's amazing what our "sixth sense" can do for us. If you feel that you haven't been in touch with someone for awhile, and something tells you that you should call them, follow your "sixth sense"! It's there for a reason and has been there for eons!!! N.B. The quotation, "S/he who hesitates is lost. . ." is an adaptation from Joseph Addison's play Cato written in 1712.

Watch Your Step!!!!

And Marash Girl does not mean that only metaphorically. It's been four days since she was NOT watching her step as she stepped from the curb onto what she thought was the roadway when . . . kaboom!!! Down she went. Luckily no breaks but lots of hurtin' . . . so don't be a fool . . . watch where you're goin' . . . both metaphorically and literally!!!!

Grandpa Peter and the Belly Dancer at Karoun Restaurant in Newtonville Square

When Karoun Restaurant, a restaurant featuring Armenian and Middle Eastern food and music, was nestled in Newtonville Square on the corner of Washington and Walnut Streets, Grandpa Peter would, on occasion, treat the family to supper there . The kids loved the music of the Middle Eastern band and the Armenian and Arabic line dancing. On one such auspicious occasion, a belly dancer -- scantily clad -- was featured. Grandpa Peter was the only man in the room who was NOT ogling the belly dancer, and . . . yes, you guessed it . . . the belly dancer chose to wrap her veils around the one man who continued to ignore her -- Grandpa Peter. A handsome guy was Grandpa Peter, muscled with light skin and blue eyes, and very accustomed, (in this case and many others, Marash Girl is certain,) to women throwing themselves at him . . . both literally and figuratively. But his blue eyes were only for Grandma Jennie!!!!

Remembering Auntie Nectar's Farm

One summer Sunday afternoon, many years ago, during a family visit to Auntie Nectar's farm in Hopkinton (in the old days, about an hour west of Boston along Route 20 by car), ten-year-old Marash Girl was happily walking barefoot through the grass when poison ivy first met with the bottoms of Marash Girl's bare feet . . . and this, much to the dismay of all the adults who watched with horror and shouted out warnings. . . but the warnings came too late . . . the poison ivy was already crushed under Marash Girl's pobik dodiks. The miracle was that Marash Girl's feet did fine . . . no poison ivy followed her feet home, thank the Lord! Marash Girl still wonders if the poison ivy survived to tell the tale.

Meeting Sue Grafton at a Book Store in Manhattan

Such a surprise met Marash Girl years ago, when she walked into a bookstore in Manhattan only to notice that her favorite author of mysteries -- Sue Grafton (May she rest in peace) -- was signing books in preparation for a booksigning soon to occur later that afternoon. So gracious was Ms. Grafton, that she cheerily chatted away with Marash Girl (someone Ms. Grafton had never met before) as Ms. Grafton continued signing the books that the author knew would fly out of the store later that afternoon . . . as soon as her booksigning talk was over. The connection was so real that Ms. Grafton and Marash Girl continued communicating by email for years . . . That meeting is of Marash Girl's favorite memories . . . and Sue Grafton is and always will be one of Marash Girl's favorite authors. Such sorrow when Marash Girl recently learned that Ms. Grafton had passed away several years ago May the Lord welcome Ms. Grafton into the Kingdom of Heaven!

Be Grateful For Small Surprises!

Marash Girl's Lobster Cactus has three blooms on it, even though the weather is cold and the skies are grey!!! Hooray for the Lobster Cactus!

Curious, Are You?

Photo ©MarashGirl2020 With thanks to John Simmons for reducing the size of the photo for this blog post.

Akşam Olsa, Yatak!

Born of Armenian parentage in Marash, Ottoman Empire, a survivor of the genocide of the Armenian people, Marash Boy's grandmother Nartouhi was living with her son and his family in Springfield, Massachusetts when Marash Girl first met her. As late afternoon would approach, she was often heard intoning the following words: "Akşam olsa, yatak!" (Translation: Were it evening, we'd go to bed.)

Orange From Birth?

Is an orange orange from birth? No checking on the internet!!! Just check in with Marash Girl in a couple of days to find the answer! And don't feel bad if you don't know the answer. . . Marash Girl learned the answer only after a trip to California during a visit to Marash Martha's back yard orange orchard!

A BABBLING BROOK?

A brook that babbles? Or should I write "babels"? Does a brook really speak all the languages of the folks at the famed Tower of Babel? Ref. Genesis 11:1–9

Remembering Sunday Trips To Ferjulian's Farm in Hudson, Massachusetts

Not during the winter months, but often, on a summer's Sunday, Uncle Paul would drive us to Ferjulian's farm in Hudson, Massachusetts . . . a beautiful trip through country roads to a beautiful farm to get beautiful produce and an ice cream treat on the way home!!!! Was it from Ferjulian's farm that Grandpa Peter bought the tomato plants for his backyard garden? Was it from Ferjulian farm that Uncle Paul purchased the young fruit trees planted along the border of our back and side yards in Newtonville? Thank you, Daddy, for the fresh vegetables throughout the summer and autumn days of our childhood . . . Thank you, Uncle Paul, for the wonderful fruit fresh off the trees in our back yard . . . and thank you Mummy, Daddy, Uncle Paul, and Auntie Zabelle for our childhood full of love, wonderful food, and wonderful adventures!

Knitting Is Knotting

Knitting is simply knotting in an orderly fashion. . . Did you know that? Would that we could always turn life's knots into knits, or, to put it another way, "Would that we could always turn a problem into an easy solution!!!" It's easy if when you're knitting . . . not so easy in life, though.

Junk Mail A Problem?

Junk mail a problem? Well . . . if your kids are all grown up, and they no longer use junk mail for crazy collages on a cold winter's day . . . and if you've given up on your efforts at contemporary art . . . Marash Girl has a solution to offer. Simply stuff each envelope of junk mail into its very own postage paid return envelope, and hand that envelope to your mailman on his next trip to your home ... you’ll never hear from that company again, according to Marash Martha!!! Marash Girl tried Marash Martha's suggestion, and . . . guess what!!! Marash Martha was right on! No more junk mail from that company!!!

A Pincushion?

Is there anyone out there who knows what a pincushion is? (No cheating . . . no looking up online!) A prize awaits the first correct answer!

"Just get her married!"

Blog for Wednesday, February 17, 2020: Told to Marash Girl's father when Marash Girl was applying to colleges: "Why do you want to waste your money sending her to college? Just get her married!"

REMEMBERING HOWARD ZINN

Photo by MarashGirl©2009 Above photograph of Howard Zinn taken many years ago by Marash Girl at the home of Howard Zinn in Auburndale, Massachusetts ... From the internet: "Howard Zinn (August 24, 1922 – January 27, 2010) was an American historian, author, playwright, and social activist. He was a political science professor at Boston University. Zinn wrote more than 20 books, including his best-selling and influential A People's History of the United States." SEE http://marashgirl.blogspot.com/2011/03/remembering-howard-zinn-peoples-history.html SEE https://www.theamerican.co.uk/pr/int-Bianca-Bagatourian-The-Time-Of-Our-Lies N.B. or "Nota not so Buena"! Howard Zinn passed away on the same day as Marash Girl's father Peter.

STILL SAVING SAFETY PINS?

Marash Girl just found a little chain of tiny safety pins in the living room on the marble-topped coffee table. "What's this?" she asked. Marash Boy was quick to answer. "I couldn't throw them away! Don't you remember? Growing up, we would always be reminded to save safety pins . . . reminded by our grandmothers, if not first by our mother!!! We always had a long chain of safety pins in the left hand drawer of the kitchen cabinet!!!"

շնորհավոր ծնունդդ, լորիկ!

շնորհավոր ծնունդդ, լորիկ! Hope you can still read Armenian!!!!

A SPECIAL POEM FROM A SPECIAL POET

https://poetryandplaces.com/2021/02/07/wambaw-creek-by-krikor-der-hohannesian/ Be sure to copy this link and enjoy the poem entitled Wambaw Creek!!! Marash Girl promises you . . . you won't be sorry!!!

Missing Autumn In New England?

Here's a great recipe for Pumpkin Bread! Don't have any pumpkin? Following the recipe for Pumpkin Bread, and, ensuring that all ingredients are at room temperature, simply substitute equal amounts of cooked, peeled, seeded, and mashed butternut squash (at room temperature) for the pumpkin called for in the recipe, [the oven should be preheating while gathering the ingredients and preparing the batter,] place the batter in well-greased baking pans, bake, let sit for a few minutes before removing from pan, serve, and the aroma will take you right back to autumn in New England! Marash Girl followed her own advice (above), and the Butternut Squash Bread came out even better than her Pumpkin Bread!

When Is A Yard Not A Yard?

When is a yard not a yard? Ready for the answer? A yard is not a yard when it's a stick . . . a yardstick! Riddle Copyright Marash Girl 2021 This is the blogpost for tomorrow, so you learned the answer a day early. Lucky you!

Ready For Another Riddle? Here Goes!

When is a yard not a yard? You have a day or two to come up with the answer!

What kind of brush do you want to avoid at all costs? Here's your answer!

What kind of brush do you want to avoid at all costs? Marash Girl received no answers to this riddle, so are you ready? She's going to give you the answer right now. What kind of brush do you want to avoid at all costs? A brush with the law! Riddle Copyright MarashGirl 2021

On The Road To Bombay

One day, years ago, Judith K.E. related the following to Marash Girl. My parents were traveling in India, (Judith related), and one day, while walking along the streets of Bombay, an Indian resident of the town, a native, came up to Judith's parents and asked,"Are you American?" Of course, they answered, "Yes." "Do you know Marash Girl?" And, flabbergasted, they answered, "Yes!" But they were in such a state of wonderment that they never thought to ask how the gentleman knew Marash Girl. Marash Girl herself still wonders who that gentleman could have been and, not to coin an expression, but "how in the world" did he know Marash Girl?

Remembering A Sunday School Chorus Marash Girl Learned Years Ago From A College Classmate!!

Jesus wants me for a sunbeam, To shine for Him each day... In every way try to serve Him, At home, at work, at play. A sunbeam, a sunbeam, Jesus wants me for a sunbeam. A sunbeam, a sunbeam, I'll be a sunbeam for Him. Thank you, MJ, for teaching Marash Girl this children's chorus while we were still college classmates. Although Marash Girl has forgotten much that she learned in college, she has never forgotten the words or the tune to this song. She sings it to this day.

"It's snowing down south!!!"

"It's snowing down south!!!" Anyone remember that expression? Anyone know what it means? Anyone know what a slip is? Anyone remember when women used to wear slips? In the not so old days, women (no matter how young) couldn't wear pants to school; they had to wear dresses, or skirts and blouses. If a gal's slip was showing below the lower hem of her dress or the lower hem of her skirt, she would be reminded by all around her that she should correct the problem (immediately if not sooner), the critic reminding the errant young woman by using the code words, "It's snowing down south!!!" Now, dear reader, Marash Girl must ask you. "Do you know what a slip is?"

Sage Advice from Ben Lifson

While attending Graduate School at Yale University, Marash Girl was fortunate to have known Benjamin (Ben) Lifson, a graduate student at Yale as well . . . and self-appointed philosopher of the day. The primary bit of advice that Marash Girl remembers Ben having shared with her (and they were good friends, no more than that) follows herewith: "Never go to bed angry with your partner; if you don't first defuse whatever the issue, you won't sleep well, and it certainly won't bode well for the relationship!" Good advice, wouldn't you say?

Skating on Bullough's Pond!

Bullough's Pond, where, many years ago, Marash Girl's mother taught Marash Girl to ice skate . . . Bullough's Pond . . . where, many years later, Marash Girl and her junior high school friends played CRACK THE WHIP (all of them on ice skates on frozen Bullough's Pond . . .) with Marash Girl at the end of the whip: when the whip snapped (or should I say "cracked"), young Marash Girl fell and . . . CRACK . . . yes . . .. Marash Girl had fractured her elbow!!! Ouch! And yes . . . Bullough's Pond . . . you guessed it . . . Bullough's Pond . . .where Marash Girl taught her four children to ice skate.

Napping on the "A" Train in New York City

Judith Kirshner (Eger), Marash Girl's college classmate and dear friend, grew up in Brooklyn, New York. After graduating from college, Marash Girl would travel to Brooklyn to visit Judith. And, of course, traveling between Brooklyn and New York City, the two young women experienced many adventures. As Marash Girl thinks back to those days, she finds it hard to give credence to the fact that, at the end of the day, a day of escapades in Manhattan, Marash Girl and Judith would be so tired, that after boarding the "A" train, they would stretch out on the seats of the subway car, seats on opposite siet off the train at the right stop... Believe it or not, that's the truth, and Marash Girl is stickin' with it!!! And here's a photo of Judith taken years after she and Marash Girl rode the "A" train together.

On Giving Away An Old Book

Are you sure you want to give away that book? Was the original owner of the book a person of fame or importance? Does the book have its dustjacket? Is it (both the book and the dustjacket) in pristine condition? Have you checked the book for signatures, former owner's identification (even if only a glued return address label), inscriptions, bookmarks ($5 bills?). . . these are often worth more than the book itself . . . and if the book was originally owned by a famous person, his/her underlinings or notations would add value to your book!!!

The Recipe for Orange Juice Cake

What drama!!! Marash Girl's mom, who, Marash Girl has to admit, was from an Aintabtsi family . . . not a Marashtsi family . . . and thus an amazing cook . . . Okay . . . let's start again. Marash Girl's mom always wanted the recipe for Orange Juice Cake, a cake that her cousin would make to the great acclaim of all. When that cousin finally agreed to share the recipe, try as they could, none of them -- Marash Girl's mom, Marash Girl's sister, and Marash Girl herself -- none of them could ever get the recipe to turn out properly. The cake always fell!!! So it is with great hesitation that Marash Girl tries to bake an Orange Juice Cake (a recipe she found on the internet yesterdayt), as Marash Girl has not yet tried to make the cake, and because of her childhood experience, fears to even try to make it)! Nonetheless, with a snowstorm heading this way, she may just cast aside that fear, and see what happens. If the recipe works, Marash Girl will let you know and provide the online link to the recipe. Fingers crossed!

Remembering Charlie Merrick and Norman Krim - - They Remembered It All!!!

Charlie Merrick (several generations older than Marash Girl) and Norm Krim (a generation younger than Charlie Merrick) . . . though neither knew the other, the Norm who lived in the East and one who lived in the West (the East and West of Massachusetts), both good friends of Marash Girl, both wih incredible memories . . . On different occasions (as the two never met), Marash Girl asked them the secret to their incredible memories . . . and they both had the same answer. "I write it down . . . ," Charlie in his yearly bound memorandum, and Norm in his little black book from the Harvard Coop. Oh, and let Marash Girl not to forget to add that they read their writings over on a regular basis, just to insure that they would remember those facts and incidents correctly!!! How Marash Girl misses Charlie Merrick and Norman Krim!!!

A Good Samaritan . . .

A week ago this morning, a good Samaritan, albeit 8 miles west of Boston, Massachusetts, found an automobile license in the woods bordering the Charles River, and returned that license to its rightful owner (Marash Girl's neighbor). Thank the Lord for his sharp eyes and caring heart!

And Speaking of Depressing . . . or rather the Depression . . .

Marash Girl's father Peter would tell of folks who, during the Great Depression, used to go to the Bick in Cambridge, (better known as Hayes Bickfords), ask for a glass of water (which was without cost), pour tomato ketchup (also without cost) into the water, and gratefully drink . . . their nutrition for the day.

"Why do books have to be depressing in order to be considered great?"

"Why do books have to be depressing in order to be considered great?" asked Deron when he was in junior high school. A thought-provoking question . . . .

Marash Girl Paused For The Cows To Cross Waltham Street

"One day left from the old days?" So Marash Girl thought as she would stop during her commute from suburban Newton to Lexington High School . . . stop to let the farmer and his cows cross from the field on the eastern side of Waltham Street to the field on the western side of Waltham Street. As her father would be commenting, were he still here with us, "Those days are gone . . . forever!"

Politics in Maryland

Lorig Charkoudian: A Force To Be Reckoned With In Maryland Politics

Photo Credit: Aline Charkoudian-Rogers

Marash Girl, Marash Martha, and Country & Western Music

Growing up in Newtonville, Marash Girl and Marash Martha, then only 5 or 6 years old, were gifted a radio by their father and mother. (Perhaps because they would wake up so early in the morning that they didn't allow their mother and father the sleep their parents needed!). The two girls delighted in listening to "Country and Western Music" on that radio, music that began playing, as Marash Girl remembers, as early as 5 o'clock every morning. It was such fun for the girls that Marash Martha actually, at one time, wanted to grow up to be a "cow girl"! Recalling those days, Marash Martha writes,"The best part was the yodeling!"

A PHILOSOPHY OF LIFE OR A PHYSICAL PHENOMENON?

"EVERY ACTION HAS AN EQUAL AND OPPOSITE REACTION!" Grandpa Peter, Marash Girl's father, always quoted Newton's Third Law of Motion (cited above) -- his favorite object lesson!!!!

Line Dancing in Boston, Massachusetts

Marash Girl's recent chat with Professor Renato R. (Chato, as she knew him) called to mind the time Marash Girl, while at the Armenian Booth of the Fun Fair (an outdoor fair sponsored yearly by the International Students Association in Cambridge, Massachusets,) sold tickets for an Armenian dance taking place in Boston that evening, to a young Navaho man (a student at Harvard College at the time), tickets for the Harvard/Radcliffe/BU/Tufts/Jackson/Simmons Armenian Dance.... (a fundraiser for the Harvard-Radcliffe Armenian Club, as well as for the Armenian clubs of the other colleges and universities in the Boston area). Attending the event, while dancing the Armenian line dance at which Marash Girl's mother and father were "chaperones", Alan (her Navaho friend) commented that the simple Armenian line dance, the "bar" as it was called in Armenian, was eerily (Marash Girl's word) familiar, calling to mind the simple Navajo line dance. Two peoples geographically distanced, and yet . . .

The French on Vaccinating Against the Corona Virus

Un petit truc pour faire rigoler. J’ai reçu le suivant de la part de ma copine Corine en France qui est médecin. ... _________________ Un médecin a décidé de vacciner un Anglais, un Français, un Allemand et un Américain. Il dit à l'Anglais : - C'est par ici votre vaccin s'il vous plaît. - Je ne veux pas! - Allez ! Un gentleman se ferait vacciner. Et l'Anglais s'est fait vacciner. Le médecin s'adresse à l'Allemand: - Maintenant c'est ton tour. - Non merci ! - C'est un ordre ! Et l'allemand s'est fait vacciner. Le médecin s'adresse a l’Américain : - Maintenant, c'est à votre tour. - En aucun cas ! - Mais vous savez, votre voisin s'est fait vacciner. Et l’américain s'est fait vacciner. Le médecin s'adresse au Français : - A vous maintenant ! - Je ne me ferai pas vacciner ! - Allez, un gentleman se ferait vacciner. - En aucune façon ! - C'est un ordre ! - Non ! - Vous savez, votre voisin s'est fait vacciner... - Je m'en fous ! - Écoutez... qui êtes-vous exactement ? - un Français. - Ah, un Français ! De toutes façons, vous n'avez pas droit au vaccin. - COMMENT ÇA, JE N'Y AI PAS DROIT ???!!! .... et le Français se fit vacciner.

On Reading Books Borrowed From A Library

Marash Girl loves to read in bed, and because of that, stopped borrowing books from the library . . . after all, who would want to go to bed with a book that someone else has already gone to bed with!!!!

And Remembering Jack Bezjian

The foremost memory of Jack Bezjian, Marash Girl's mom's cousin who lived in Troy, New York, the source of much joy for Marash Girl's family . . . as she was saying, the foremost memory of Jack Bezjian for Marash Girl is the time the family drove to Troy, New York to visit Jack and his family. After a long (and for little Marash Girl, arduous) drive across Massachusetts into New York State, Marash Girl's dad Peter turned his automobile (crowded with all five members of the family) onto the street in Troy, New York, where the Bezjians lived, and there, waiting for them, was Jack Bezjian, standing at the corner of the street swinging a lantern, welcoming his relatives to his home!

Remembering Henry and Rose (Bezjian) Nofal

When Marash Girl began thinking about summer, especially summers along the North Shore of Massachusetts, summers on the shores of her favorite summer island, Plum Island, she remembered the following. Many years ago, when Henry and Rose (Bezjian) Nofal were visiting Marash Girl's family in Newtonville, Massachusetts, (the Nofals had driven all the way from Troy, New York,) Marash Girl's father decided to surprise his children (Marash Girl and her siblings) and Henry and Rose Nofal with a trip to Plum Island, an island off the North Shore (of Massachusetts). Living in Troy, New York, they rarely had the opportunity of experience the Atlantic Ocean! Arriving at Plum Island (Newburyport, Massachusetts) after driving north for one and a half hours, the Marash Girl's father and his family decided to take their guests for a leisurly walk along the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. Enjoying the warmth of the sun and the music of the surf, they suddenly heard the screams of a swimmer . . . a swimmer who had been caught in the notorious surf undertow of Plum Island. Without hesitation, both Henry and Rose dove into the surf and rescued that swimmer, bringing him safely back to shore. What a wonderful and courageous couple they were! Marash Girl misses those summers on Plum Island and she so misses you, Henry and Rose!!!

Riddle Again!!! Let's see how you do with this one . . .

What kind of brush do you want to avoid at all costs? A prize for the first/best/correct answer!

Why should we support black lives matter?

https://asbarez.com/194482/why-we-should-support-black-lives-matter/

LEST WE FORGET . . .

At rally with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the Boston Common - April 23, 1965 - (photographer unkown)

"When is it impossible to stay warm under a blanket?" Here's the solution to the quandary!

"When is it impossible to stay warm under a blanket?" Have you figured out the answer yet? Well, here it is! "It's impossible to stay warm under a blanket when it's a blanket of snow!!!" Copyright Marash Girl 2021

HIDDEN SHRINE IN NEWTON CORNER

PRAYER TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY IN THE HOLLOW OF A TREE

Photo by Marash Girl 2021 Where is this shrine hidden? A prize for the first person who guesses its correct location.

Note on Mummy and Daddy's Wedding: Blog post for January 15 & January 16, 2021

January 15, 2021 Jennie (from an Aintepsi family) and Peter (from a Marashtsi family) were to get married at the Armenian Brethren Church in Watertown, Massachusetts, but on the day of the wedding, so many of the Aintepsis in the Boston community and so many of the Marashtsis in the Boston community showed up for the wedding that just before the wedding was to take place, the couple had to change the venue of the wedding. All of the guests, (both invited and uninvited), the minister, and the couple to be wedded had to drive to the Baptist Church on Western Avenue in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a church large enough to contain the hundreds(?) of guests who had arrived to celebrate the couple's union. To the best of our knowledge, the minister that married Jennie and Peter on January 15 of 1940 was Reverend Stengaard. Blog post for January 16, 2021 "A Note on Mummy and Daddy's Wedding" Jennie (from an Aintepsi family) and Peter (from a Marashtsi family) were to get married at the Armenian Brethren Church in Watertown, Massachusetts, but on the day of the wedding, so many of the Aintepsis in the Boston community and so many of the Marashtsis in the Boston community showed up for the wedding that just before the wedding was to take place, the couple had to change the venue of the wedding. All of the guests, (both invited and uninvited), the minister, and the couple to be wedded had to drive to the Baptist Church on Western Avenue in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a church large enough to contain the hundreds(?) of guests who had arrived to celebrate the couple's union. To the best of our knowledge, the minister that married Jennie and Peter on January 15 of 1940 was Reverend Stengaard.

Happy Anniversary, Mummy and Daddy!

Happy Anniversary, Mummy and Daddy! Would that you were both still with us!!! Remembering the story that you told about your honeymoon in Washington, DC. Peter drove his bride (who had no driver's license at that time) to Washington, DC, on there honeymooon, but World War Two had just broken out, and there was no lodging anywhere to be found, ("no room at the inn," as it were,) so Peter drove up to a gas station, filled his automobile gasoline tank with fuel, and as he paid the attendant, asked where he and his bride (Marash Girl's Mummy) might rent a room for the night. The gasoline station attendant, hiding a smirk, pointed to the white pillared mansion across the street, and suggested that Peter inquire there. Shy? Peter was not! And so, following the attendant's instructions, he drove across the street and, leaving his bride in the car, walked up to the door of the mansion and knocked. (No, this is not a "knock-knock" joke!). A man (who Peter later learned was the butler) came to the door. "May I help you?" Peter asked to speak with the owner of the house. When the owner came to the door, Peter explained the situation, and asked if she had a room available for rent. "The idea!" replied the woman, offended at such a request. But Peter, charming as he was (and blonde and blue-eyed, to boot), explained his conundrum. The woman said, "Let me see your wife!" (My guess is that she suspected Peter was with a poz.) So Peter motioned for his bride to get out of the car. The woman requested that his bride "turn around" so that the woman could make a more complete inspection. Jennie obeyed and carefully turned around. Satisfied, the woman invited Peter and Jennie into her home, where they were guests (paying no rent) for the next two weeks, having become best of friends with the owner of the house. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the truth, as Mummy and Daddy told it many years ago!!!!

"Pallet Builder/Repair"

Browsing through her "junk" emails, Marash Girl found an advertisement for "Pallet Builder/Repair" . . . It brought to mind the folk song which became popular in the 1960's. (Of course, Marash Girl wasn't even born at the time!) "Make Me A Pallet On Your Floor!" Any of you out there old enough to remember that song?

Hardened White Sugar A Problem?

There Marash Girl found herself with time on her hands, and a five pound bag of sugar . . . why not make a cake for the grandkids? Good idea!!! So "Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard to fetch her poor dog a. . . ." Whoops, wrong story . . . Marash Girl went to the cupboard to fetch her 5 pound bag of sugar, but when she got there, the 5 pound bag of sugar was as hard as a rock!!! Vaaht to do? Vaaht to do? Marash Girl didn't know, and the she no longer had her father's copy of the Encyclopedia Brittanica to consult (wonder if there would have been a solution there?) . . . so she went to the internet, and there (see below) she found the solution!!! "How to soften a hardened 5 lb. bag of granulated white sugar . . . Simply grab a moistened piece of paper towel (it should be damp, not dripping) and place it inside the container that holds the hardened sugar. Leave it in that container, covered, overnight in a cool, dry place and in the morning, remove the paper towel and crush the sugar with a spoon or fork until it becomes soft again." Marash Girl didn't really believe what she was reading. . . nonetheless, she decided to give it a try . . . and 24 hours later . . . guess what? It worked. The sugar was completely granulated when mashed up with a fork or tablespoon. Marash Girl was able to use that very sugar -- the sugar that had been as "hard as a rock" . . . the sugar that she thought she would have to toss out . . . that very sugar, now granulated, she could now use to make cupcakes for her grandchildren!!!! Would that life's "hard" problems could be as easy to soften!

STIMULUS CHECK $600 EACH . . .

Even if you have several wives? Just asking . . .

Riddle Again!!! [DO NOT READ UNTIL TOMORROW!!!]

When is it impossible to stay warm under a blanket? A prize for the first best answer!!!! (You have until Sunday evening to answer, but remember!!! The FIRST best answer wins the prize!)

"You hug too hard!"

Advice from a pro . . . Years ago, when Grandpa Peter was still with us, Grandpa Peter would love to hug the women as he greeted them . . . no formal handshake for him! His friend, Jim, (name disguised to protect the innocent) would always comment: "I don't get it! How is it that the women don't mind your hugging them, but they pull away when I hug them?" "You hug too hard," replied Grandpa Peter, hiding a grin.

Massacre of the White Birches Lives On In Marash Girl's Memory

Thus Marash Girl must once more write of Massacre of the White Birches . . . or The Trees That Paid the Ultimate Price! Summers in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, were carefree, until the town began to pass laws that some folks saw as infringing on their inalienable rights! The new law that was created by the powers that be in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, (perhaps in the 1980's, although Marash Girl can't remember the exact year), was a law preventing individuals from cutting down trees on their own property without the town's permission . . . a tough law to swallow for folks who had been "living free" on their private property all their lives. So how did one man deal with that law? Marash Girl is sure that you can surmise the answer, having read the title of today's blog post. Yes, the fellow who lived on the East side of Ridge Road, perhaps a half mile from the cabin on top of Wilbraham Mountain . . . that fellow whose house overlooked his hillside acre of white birches bordering Ridge Road . . . you guessed it . . . that fellow massacred all of the white birches that fronted his house . . . cut every last one down to a stump . . . stumps he had to look at for the rest of his life! Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face!!!!

A Trip to the Franklin Park Zoo with Little Quail

There the family stood at Boston's Franklin Park Zoo . . . Mama, Papa, Nisa, and three year old Little Quail, peering through the fence separating them from the baby elephant. Little Quail was clutching a half of a peanut butter sandwich in her little fist when the baby elephant reached through the fence with his baby elephant trunk and took Little Quail's peanut butter sandwich right out of her little hand, popping the sandwich into its baby elephant mouth . . . and leaving Little Quail sobbing at the loss of her sandwich (but, it should be noted, that she expressed no fear of the elephant . . .) Little Quail was simply sad that the elephant had taken her snack without even asking!

Շնորհավոր Սուրբ Ծնունդ! Wishing You A Blessed Armenian Christmas!

Krisdos dznav yev haydnetsav! Tsezi mezi medz avedis!

Photo by the MET via the Armenian Museum of America, Watertown, Massachusetts

On Writing A Shakespearean Sonnet

Having tried her best to craft a sonnet à la Shakespeare (in response to her English teacher's writing assignment), Marash Girl was excited to learn what the teacher had thought of her efforts. How disappointed she was (Marash Girl . . . and probably the teacher, as well) when Marash Girl's sonnet was returned, and Marash Girl saw no comments, but rather the sixth letter of the alphabet, capitalized in red ink, at the top of her paper. Vahan Topalian's response? "Don't worry about it! She would have given Shakespeare an F!!!"

What's black and white and red all over?

"What's black and white and red (read) all over?" An age old riddle Marash Girl has dredged up from her childhood . . . a riddle to which most folks would proffer the answer, "a newspaper" . . . but then, if you're a kid, you would be more likely to answer "an embarrassed zebra". . . especially if you had just returned from a visit to the Franklin Park Zoo. Do you, dear reader, have any other wiley answers?

Note to New York Times From Marash Girl - Blog Post for Monday, January 4

To the Editors of the New York Times: Just wanted to let you know that my long since passed away grandma’s maiden name was “Kurgyzian”. She was born during the horrific times of the Armenian Genocide, witnessed the murder of her parents by the unmentionables (I won’t go into the details here) and later in life became blind . . . some say because of what she had witnessed.. My family and husband always tease me that I’m a “Kyrgyz” — although I was born and brought up in the United States of America, granddaughter of Yepros(née Kurgyzian). Just thought you might be interested, as I was, seeing your editorial entitled "BECAUSE OF AN EDITING ERROR”, in which the first paragraph makes reference to Kyrgyzstan, the first time I’ve ever seen my grandma’s place of origin in print in the New York Times!!!! Sincerely, Marash Girl

Faites attention, s'il vous plaît!!!

Value what you have today . . . it may not be here tomorrow!

Grandma Jennie and Cashews on Moody Street in Waltham

Whenever Grandma Jennie would take Marash Girl shopping for a pair of shoes, a dress, or a skirt, shopping for bargains in the shops along Waltham's Moody Street, Grandma Jennie (Mummy to Marash Girl) would always save the best for last! When the shopping was accomplished, or the two were simply exhausted from trekking in and out of the shops, up and down the department store's stairs (no escalators in those days) . . . just before heading for the car, Grandma Jennie (Mummy to Marash Girl) would purchase a small bag of freshly roasted cashews . . . was it at Kresge's or Woolworth's . . . Marash Girl doesn't remember which one, but she sure remembers the cashews! To this day, every time Marash Girl is offered a cashew, she relives those trips, the scent of the freshly roasting cashew nuts, and the fun and excitement of walking along Moody Street with Grandma Jennie! But, as Grandpa Peter would say, "Those days are gone . . . forever!"

Happy New Year! Շնորհավոր Նոր Տարի

Marash Girl wishes you and yours a very healthy and happy NEW YEAR! Շնորհավոր Նոր Տարի! Shnorhavor Nor Dari!

New Year's Eve Parties?

There was a time when Marash Girl and Marash Boy were invited to, perhaps, ten New Year's Eve parties every New Year's Eve . . . The parties were fun! But one year, Marash Girl and Marash Boy decided to have fun alone (together) . . . neglecting to notify (as it was a last minute decision) the many friends who had sent them invitations. And, as they used to say in the old days, "That was the end of that!" . . . Whoops . . . Marash Girl meant to say, "That was the end of the invitations . . ." . . . not to imply that that was the end of Marash Girl and Marash Boy deciding to have fun alone (together)!

"Who would want a dishwasher?"

Marash Girl, (being rather snippy, don't you think?) once asked her mother, here known as Grandma Jennie, the following quesion: "Who would want a dishwasher?" Grandma Jennie looked at Marash Girl rather strangely, as if to say, "This daughter of mine does not understand? Have I really spoiled her that much?" What Marash Girl's mother's daughter did not understand, was that doing the dishes especially at the end of a festive meal, was a time for the women (and yes, it was only women in those days) . . . time for the women to socialize, gossip, joke, with no men around (hmmm . . . wonder what those jokes were all about . . . ) N.B. And further . . . that when it was not a festive meal and the other women were not around to socializa, gossip, and joke . . . the woman of the house would be there doing dishes all by her lonesome. Not so much fun!!!

On Speaking Armenian . . .

Although Mummy (known to the kids as Grandma Jennie) spoke only Armenian at home when she was growing up in Cambridge, Massachusetts, as soon as her maternal grandmother came to live with Mummy and her family, the whole family began to speak, and continued to speak, only Turkish because that was the only language that Grandma Jennie's grandma understood. Why? Do you really want to know? Marash Girl hesitates to write this because it is so painful, but in certain areas of the Ottoman Empire, at the turn of the last century (that's the 19th to the 20th, NOT the 20th to the 21st), if you were caught teaching, speaking, or reading anything other than the Turkish language, . . . well, there's a family whose name is dilsiz which translates into English "without a tongue" . . . need Marash Girl comment further on this subject? Or, as the Armenian folks often said (in Turkish), lep deyerse, leplebou anliar!!! Don't understand? It translates into English, "When someone says chick, one understands chickpeas." Or, as the folks who grew up speaking English would say, "Need I spell it out for you?" N.B. See http://marashgirl.blogspot.com May 19, 2015 no-Armenian-in-Marash

Artists, Where Are You?

There was a time in Marash Girl's life when she knew not one person who was NOT an artist. Presently Marash Girl knows only one woman who is an artist and one man who is an artist. (Both are painters.) What's going on? Is it this writer? The times? Or the place? Or is Marash Girl's definition of "artist" too narrow?

Let's Pause For A Moment To Remember . . .

Let's pause for a moment to remember Marash Girl's Daddy Peter, Marash Girl's Mummy Jennie, Marash Girl's Uncle Paul, Marash Girl's Auntie Zabelle, Marash Girl's Grandma Yepros, Marash Girl's Grandpa Moses, Marash Girl's Grandma Yester, Marash Girl's Grandpa Garabed, Marash Girl's Great Auntie Mary, Marash Girl's Great Uncle Jack, Marash Girl's Auntie Lydia, Marash Girl's Uncle George . . . Marash Girl should . . . but can't go on . . . Such a wonderful family, such wonderful memories!

Christmas Caroling in Newton Corner

HARK, THE HERALD ANGELS SING! O COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL! O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM! SILENT NIGHT . . . O, HOLY NIGHT! GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN! GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN! JOY TO THE WORLD! Christmas caroling on Christmas evening with Grandpa Peter and Howard Zinn (yes, THE Prof. Howard Zinn) sitting on the sofa in Marash Girl's living room, Karoun on the flute, Deron on the violin, Marash Girl on the piano, and Nisha and Lorig leading the choir of neighbors gathered around the living room singing with gusto . . . no matter what their beliefs! How Marash Girl misses those days!!!

Krisdos Dznav Yev Haidnetsav!

"Krisdos Dznav Yev Haidnetsav!" If you're Armenian, you know that this is the manner in which Armenians greet one another on Christmas. And if you're Armenian, you know that this . . . "Ohrnyal Eh Dznoutioun Krisdosi!" . . . is the Armenian Response to the Armenian greeting on Christmas. Translation from the Armenian: Greeting on Christmas: "Christ is born and has been revealed unto us." Response to Greeting on Christmas: "Blessed is the birth of Christ!" Years ago, Uncle Paul, Daddy's older brother, tried to teach us kids the Armenian greetings appropriate for the various Armenian religious holidays. Invariably, we would interchange the Christmas greeting and response (which you see recorded above -- yes, Marash Girl still remembers that greeting) . . we would interchange that Christmas greeting with the Easter greeting, "Krisdos haryav y merelotz!" "Christ has risen and conquered death!" (Marash Girl will record the response to that greeting on Easter!) Rather than being mean and chastising us with a sharp correction, Uncle Paul (born in Marash) would laugh and ask, "How can Jesus be risen from the dead when Jesus has just been born?" N.B. Above image has been borrowed from the internet. Thanks to whomever posted it!

Is Santa Claus real?

Marash Girl was always asked that question by her children: "Is there really a Santa Claus?" And of course, the answer was, and is, "Yes!!!" Didn't know that? You can figure it out, Marash Girl is certain!

Biding Your Time Until Christmas? Or Whipping Up A Storm?

Try Marash Girl's Original Riddle . . . . "Why did the little girl hear crying from inside the refrigerator?" Give up? Take a minute before you read the answer below which, as you may notice, has been written backwards to protect the innocent and discourage the peekers! Answer: Deppihw neeb dah ti esuaceb gniyrc saw maerc yvaeh eht. c. 2020 MarashGirl

Takoma Park Celebrates Christmas

A reader of Marash Girl from Takoma Park, Maryland, a Representative in the Maryland House of Representatives, writes of the Generosity Of The Takoma Park Community. "This past weekend, Takoma Park, Maryland, celebrated the Christmas Season with a massive food distribution event, a free toy store set up by a mutual aid organization, and a toy drive. What I observed, beyond the tangible items was our community looking out for neighbors in need, I felt the generosity of spirit that surrounded us and saw countless acts of kindness. We must all bring this same transforming energy to policymaking to build a more just economy and nation devoted to equity and equality in all areas of our lives. I look forward to working with all of you in the next Legislative Session to bring those ideas and that compassionate spirit to fruition."

Remembering the Christmas Eve Parties of Yore on December 23, 2020

Blog for December 23, 2020 Here we go a-caroling . . . whoops! Wrong house!!! Every one in the neighborhood came to Marash Girl's and Marash Boy's house to sing Christmas carols around the Christmas Tree -- early on, neighbor and well-known sculptor Lloyd Lillie on the piano, Deron on the violin, Karoun on the flute, vocals by Nisha and Lorig leading the chorus of guests singing with gusto! Even Prof. Howard Zinn joined in!!! And the dining room table was laden with tasty treats, among which included Armenian Christmas Pudding, paklava, kadayif, and even fancier Armenian treats prepared by Grandma Jennie and Medzmama. But as Grandpa Peter would have said, were he here reminiscing with Marash Girl today, "Those days are gone . . . forever!"

On Studying Armenian in Marash

Blog for December 22, 2020 Uncle Paul would often recall his days in grammar school in Marash, Ottoman Empire. This is how Marash Gril remembers his telling the tale. "In Marash, we all had both Armenian textbooks and Turkish textbooks. The class would be taught in Armenian, until we heard the tromp of footsteps . . .the Ottoman Turkish soldiers approaching the classroom door . . . at which point we would sit on our Armenian textbooks, open our Turkish textbooks, and the teacher would begin teaching in Turkish as we answered her questions in Turkish . . . so that when the soldiers burst into the classroom, they would be satisfied with what they heard and saw." Marash Girl can't imagine growing up under those circumstances, but many of her ancestors did grow up in exactly those circumstances . . . many Armenians survived to tell the tale, . . . but, sad to say, many did not!!!

Remembering Medzmama, Grape Leaves, and the Wilbraham Library

What connection could there possibly be between the Wilbraham Library and grape leaves? Wanna know? Just read on! One day years ago, late summer, Marash Girl drove most of the family (her children and Medzmama) down the Wilbraham Mountain to the Wilbraham Library . . . the children to search for good books to read, and Medzmama to search for grape leaves, tender enough for making sarma! As Medzmama was carefully selecting grape leaves, (carefully searching for the leaves that were large yet still tender enough to make yalanchi,) a young man happened by. "Here," he said. "Let me help you pick the grapes . . . those are the grape's leaves that you're picking!!!!"

Attending Live Performances with Mummy and Daddy

Whenever Marash Girl's family attended a live performance, whether theatrical or musical, whether amateur or professional, while awaiting the rise of the curtain, Marash Girl's mother, Mummy, would always scan the list of performers, looking for the names that ended in "...ian", and upon finding those names . . . those Armenian names . . . Mummy would beam, grinning from ear to ear, so proud that Armenians were a part of the performance . . . so proud to be Armenian!

BMB Loves BMB!!!!

Once her sister, brother, cousins and neighbors learned that Marash Girl had the same initials as the handsome young neighbor boy, (initials in title changed to protect the innocent), the chanting began! BMB loves BMB! BMB loves BMB! BMB loves BMB! BMB loves BMB! So the chant continued. "BMB loves BMB! BMB loves BMB! BMB loves BMB!" Unnerving to say the least, and a bit scary, as the chanters and the two BMB's were all still in elementary school!!! Yesterday, when Marash Girl looked for BMB on the internet, she learned he had passed away two years ago. May God rest Marash Girl's childhood friend's soul and welcome her friend, BMB. into God's Kingdom.

"Wag More, Bark Less!"

Above Photo of Bumper Sticker Taken by Marash Girl the Day Before Yesterday's Snow Storm

FAREWELL TO THE KOHAR CALENDAR SERIES

For many New Years now, Marash Girl has been heartened by the gift of the KOHAR Calendar coming her way from far away Beirut, Lebanon. Yesterday, she received notice that the KOHAR Calendar 2021 will be the last of the KOHAR Calendar series. A heartfelt thanks to the KOHAR Library for all the calendars they have sent in past years, with Marash Girl's best wishes for the future of KOHAR Library. Should you wish to email the KOHAR Library, you may email info@kohharlibrary.com

Farewell to Stellina's!

Marash Girl and her family and friends loved Stellina's . . . a restaurant where new friends would meet and old friends would greet!!! Marash Girl and her family and friends shall miss the food, the service, and the Author Evenings where an author would present his latest publication, talk about the writing of it, entertain questions from the audience, and later, have dinner with those who chose to stay and indulge in the delicious selections from Stellina's menu. Marash Girl arrived early one day for an author presentation...so early that there was only one other person in the audience -- a fellow beside whom she sat. The two looked at eachother, smiled and attempted to engage in conversation. Marash Girl began. "Well, we can't talk about religion, we can't talk about politics, we can't talk about sex . . . I guess we'll have to talk about the book . . . except we haven't read it!!!" Remembering those days . . . but as Marash Girl's father used to say (as he was remembering his old days), "Those days are gone . . . forever!" We shall miss you Stellina's!!!

Turkeys on Tuesday

Photo by Marash Boy, !2/15/20

Massachusetts Scientist Writes Marash Girl Concerning COVID

Massachusetts Scientist Writes To Marash Girl Concerning COVID. "I've seen some concerning thoughts and opinions expressed recently by people I know personally, regarding the idea that the risk of COVID in the community is exaggerated and/or that the measures recommended by public health professionals are excessive. Forwarding things like this and/or presenting them as authoritative is extremely irresponsible, self-centered and shortsighted. "I have spoken extensively to many friends and colleagues who are physicians and have worked directly in the ICU with the patients who are stuck on ventilators for weeks or months due to COVID. I have read the data in the New England Journal of Medicine and other reputable journals. "People who are sick and dying from COVID are NOT only old or immunocompromised individuals - there are statistical probabilities to predict risk, but there is NO way to tell for sure which individuals are going to get struck more severely or have more long-term consequences. As a community, we have to take precautions to help others - I can’t fathom why this is difficult for people to grasp just because they themselves don’t know people who have gotten sick or died. What if you did know someone who died from COVID? Would that make you feel better about wearing a mask or having a quiet Christmas? "I have personal knowledge (people I know, who are not old, weak or vulnerable) - who have had prolonged effects of COVID after either going to the hospital and recovering or being sick at home for several weeks because they felt they could manage this at home and didn’t want to go to the hospital. "We have hundreds, thousands of physicians and public health professionals who are telling us how to very simply handle this virus - wear a mask, social distance etc. These recommendations are based on medicine, science and data. Reports are rigorously analyzed and peer-reviewed prior to its presentation to the public. "As an additional note, some of the comments I have seen have included the idea that we can protect ourselves from COVID by taking high doses of vitamin D. Please note that it is medically dangerous to take high levels of vitamin D in a pill- (more than 2,000 IU per day) - this should only be done by prescription under the supervision of your physician. Because vitamin D can be stored in your body, you can end up with a condition called “vitamin D toxicity” if you take too much. "If you do happen to be a person who thinks that our public health measures for COVID are a hoax, please stop and think about this a bit. Who would this hoax benefit? Does the government or any private industry (beyond a very few) benefit from some extensive hoax about a pandemic? As a scientist, I can tell you that scientists are not benefiting. We are trying to redirect resources as a whole community to address this huge public health problem. We have had nationwide and worldwide shortages of certain supplies and equipment as we direct them towards necessary research & development. My medical friends and colleagues have been pulled in numerous directions, working extended shifts with insufficient resources because everyone and everything is spread too thin. "Please, please do not spread information that is not based on peer reviewed science. I don’t know when the scientists became the enemy for part of our society, but that was a very sad day." Nisha Charkoudian [Ph.D., Physiology]

"United for Biden"

Joyous and relieved residents of the United States of America, Aline and Lorig Charkoudian celebrate in downtown Takoma Park, Maryland, a few hours after the Biden/Harris win was announced on November 7, 2020.

"United for Biden - Biden/Harris" Photo Credit: Kathryn LaLonde

Sunday Afternoons in Belmont

Often, on Sunday afternoons, Mummy would gather the family together to visit her cousins in Belmont . . . Going way back in time, Marash Girl recalls, in particular, Junior Daghlian at Aunty Lucy's house licking the chocolate batter off of the eggbeaters after the batter had been poured into the cakepan on its way to the hot oven. When visiting Aunty Mogie and Uncle Joe, Auntie Mogie would be placing the second tray of choereg (seasoned with mahleb) into the preheated oven soon after she welcomed us into her home . . . the house already redolent with the promise of what was soon to come! As Marash Girl's father would say, were he living today, "Those days are gone . . . forever!"

On Cutting The Bacon In Half, or, How To Cook Bacon The Easy Way

Preparing bacon (and eggs) for breakfast this morning, cutting the bacon in half (not lengthwise, but crosswise), Marash Girl remembered to thank Grandma Jennie for teaching her how to cook, and, in this case, how to cook bacon evenly and quickly, without leaving the strips of bacon half raw or half burned!!! Here's the secret. Simple but effective. Before opening the package of bacon, cut the package in half widthwise, so that each half has bacon strips of about the same size. Remove the bacon from the one half, and replace the other half package back into the refrigerator, or freezer, first sealing the open end, of course. In this way, the bacon strips you have remaining will fit easily into your frying pan, and you will have an easy time tossing and turning the bacon until the strips are evenly cooked. No more burned bacon . . . unless, of course, you are called away to an urgent telephone call and forget about that bacon sizzling in the frying pan above the flame on top of your stove! N.B. Oh, how we miss you, Mummy (Grandma Jennie)!

EVEN TRUCKS ARE CELEBRATING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!

Photo ©MarashGirl2020

NIPS IN NEWTON CORNER

Look what Marash Girl found (the day before yesterday) in the gutter outside of the funeral home, across from the church, on Centre Street in Newton Corner!

Photo ©MarashGirl2020 N.B. They appeared to be quite empty, but Marash Girl refrained from checking!

ON MAKING YORGANS FOR THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE (Do Not Read Until Wednesday, Dec. 9)

Blogpost for Dec. 9, 2020 There we were, Mummy, Great Aunty Mary (Grandma Yepros's sister -- Grandma Yepros was blind, so she couldn't help), and Marash Girl . . . sitting crosslegged on the sheet covering the oriental rug on the living room floor in Newtonville, pulling apart wool freshly washed after having been sheered from the sheep on the farm in Hopkinton . . . picking out of the wool any brambles that may have been caught in the wool . . . Spreading that wool evenly across the inside out dobrag (cloth bag soon to be the cover of the quilt), rolling the dobrag up (starting on the closed end) along an old but cleaned broom stick, and carefully unrolling the bag so that the wool was now spread out evenly inside, rather than on the outside of the cloth bag. Carefully tying knots of heavy string equidistantly across the quilt at twelve inch intervals, which hopefully would assure that the wool would stay in place once the quilt was in use, and finally, invisibly stitching the open end of the quilt closed, with a prayer for the good health of the couple who would be using that quilt throughout their marriage. Verchabes . . . we had successfully completed making the "yorgan" for Marash Girl's dear friend Gail and the love of her life, Ron, who were soon to be married!!! What sweet memories . . . But as Grandpa Peter would have commented, were he reading this blogpost today, "Those days are gone . . . forever!" Note: Happy Birthday to you, Gail!!!

Remembering Claflin School and Miss Julia Tobin's 6th Grade Class

The members of Miss Tobin's sixth grade class way back then (Marash Girl is not admitting when) were so disobedient, so noisy, so rowdy, that theirs was the first class to be denied the traditional week-long, sixth grade camping trip to a local summer camp site. (Was it Camp Cedar Hill?) Marash Girl, to this day, grieves (although that's a bit too strong a word) the loss!

Be Careful Walking Along The Sidewalks Of Newton Corner . . . It's Not The Ice!!!!

About a month ago, a little after noon on a weekday in November, Marash Girl was walking along the sidewalk towards the Newton YMCA, minding her own business, when a young man went running by, passing in the same direction, on the outer side of the same sidewalk, swiping Marash Girl, slapping her with his billowing long shirt sleeves! No apologies, no nods, no nothing! Marash Girl wonders whatever this fellow was thinking!!!

Playing Backgammon, But Not For Keeps . . . and Never On Sunday!!!

During winter vacations from public school, Marash Girl and her siblings and cousins loved to play tavla, as we called it -- (nard in Armenian, backgammon for those of you who don't speak Turkish or Armenian). . . we had learned from watching our fathers engage in what seemed to be ferocious competition. The rattle of the dice, the shouts of the players when they realized they had gotten lucky dice (du shesh, shesh besh, juaradu du, du bara),the slam of the backgammon pieces, the annoyance of the seasoned players as they moved their opponents' pieces into the correct slots. For us kids, it was pure fun. We never wagered money or toys; although we knew that backgammon was a popular game with adults, we never knew that in the coffee shops, the stakes were high ($$$) for those who played in backgammon competitions. But we did imitate the shouts of the players (always men, never women) as they (probably, though we didn't understand) cursed in Turkish (Armenians never cursed in Armenian -- as the saying goes, "Armenians pray in Armenian and curse in Turkish!") It is interesting to note, however, that we were never allowed to play backgammon on Sundays!

"What are you looking at?"

©MarashGirl2020 Above Photo Taken The Week Before This Snowstorm!!!

The Music of Her Childhood

Falling asleep last night, Marash Girl remembered the music of her childhood, the clicking roll of the dice, the slam of the backgammon (tavlu) pieces (black though slightly worn, or cream colored, depending on the players' preference), the rhythms that nightly rocked her into slumber. "Juarah du!" "Du shesh!" "Du barah!" "Shesh besh!" The memory, albeit everpresent, was brought to the fore by Marash Girl's reading of the book of poetry now in print for the first time: FIRST GENERATION, Poetic Memories, written by Krikor Der Hohannesian, published by Dos Madres Press.

A must read, from Marash Girl's perspective. To order a signed copy of FIRST GENERATION, Krikor Der Hohannesian's newly published book of poetry, email the poet at krikorndh@verizon.net or order from the poet at the address below: Krikor N. Der Hohannesian 31 Boston Avenue Medford, MA 02155-6721 The cost of the book is $22.00 which includes shipping and handling. Enjoy!

Have You Ever Played "Racing Raindrops"?

Raining outside? No problem for the kids. On very rainy days, especially during elementary school vacations, Marash Girl, her sister, brother, and cousins, would play "Racing Raindrops", a game of their creation. Have you ever played? It's fun! Here's how they did it . . . When it was raining outside, and the kids had little to entertain them, they would go to the dining room window, the window overlooking the dell, then overgrown with white birch trees (a dell which later in their childhood, disappeared when it became a grassy hillside, as the dell had been filled in with the soil from the cavity created when excavating the cellar hole for the yet to be constructed Newtonville Electrical Company on Newtonville Avenue); each kid (at the same moment) would select a raindrop at the top of the window pane, and then follow that raindrop all the way down to the window sill, hoping that his/her raindrop of choice would arrive at the base before the others. If it did, that raindrop's owner won the game!!!! And all of the kids cheered for the winning raindrop!

Are you ready?

Yesterday, the first Christmas carolers of the season came by to sing a timely Merry Christmas wish to Marash Girl, who, of course, immediately joined in on the chorus! But did she have any treats ready for the young carolers? Luckily she did! But do you?

Who Lost A Penny?

Photo ©MarashGirl2020 According to Claflin Elementary School lore, "If the penny's heads up, it's okay to pick up!"