PETER AND THE HONEY BEES

And speaking of honey comb brings to mind summer and the honey bees . . . 

Peter was deathly allergic to the sting of the honey bee; his brother, Paul, was in love with honey bees!  Vaht to do?  The edeh won out and raised honey bees, harvesting honey every fall.  Peter never got stung until, one summer's day, he did; he was pursued by a swarm of bees for whatever reason, only the bees know. Peter dutifully went into the arms of a low growing plum tree in his back yard, the leafy branches of which he knew would protect him from being attacked by the swarm.  The branches did their duty and Peter survived, no thanks to the bees!!! They kept trying!!!!

N.B.  Perhaps that's the reason Marash Girl has a distaste for honey!

Pennies For The Parking Meters!

Remember when parking meters gave you 15 . . . sometimes 30 minutes for one pennie?  Those were the days, right?  Well, on one of those days,  Ann-Louise and Marash Girl were walking along a well traveled road . . . a road with lots of cars parked at parking meters soon to run out of time  . . . when who should the girls spy approaching the first of the cars parked at one of those parking meters?  Can you guess? 

Time's up!  

The answer? A meter maid with a pad of parking tickets in her left hand and a pen in her right hand. 

Marash Girl and Ann-Louise reached into their purses and grabbed as many pennies as they could find, and in an attempt to outrun the meter maid, popped a couple of pennies into every parking meter that was out of time . . . Their good deed for the day . . . or the week!

N.B. Luckily, the meter maid chose to ignore the girls' act of largesse.  Guess she figured it was less work for her!

Singing Hymns In Watertown

Grandma Jennie (while she was still dating Grandpa Peter) and her sister (Marash Girl's Auntie Lydia) were invited to sing a duet on a Sunday morning at the frpmt of the church, the Armenian Bretheren Church of Watertown.(They both had lovely voices!) As they approached the altar, a man from the congregation stood up, unbidden, and loudly insisted that the two ladies "most give their testimonies" before they be allowed to sing a duet for the church congregation. Marash Girl's Great Uncle Vartan, then minister of the church, stood up on the altar, stood up to his full stature (and he was a tall man for an Armenian in those days), pointed at the rude fellow, and intoned in stertorial tones (in English with his Armenian accent), "You sit dowvun!" And that, as they say, was that! The two ladies sang their duet without further interruption.

"Saçu boyanmīsh!"

"Saçu boyanmīsh!" . . . a statement which, to this day, Marash Girl can hear Grandma Yester announcing in those very words, a statement Grandma Yester made whenever she spied a woman in her forties or fifties with shiny brown or shiny black hair. She was so proud of her abilities to detect such fakery. Grandma Yester herself had brown hair with only a few strands of grey until she was well into her 80's. . . as did her daughter, Marash Girl's mummy Jennie! And Marash Girl? Not sayin'!

"One For Me And One For You!"

A widow and a widower met, fell in love, got married, but couldn’t agree on which of their homes should become their permanent abode. So they decided to keep both houses, live one week in one, and the next week in the other, the following week in one, and the . . . . Well, you get the picture. And that kept life fresh and exciting for them . . . The above is a true story related many years ago to Marash Girl by her father, Bedros!

Lottery Tickets?

Marash Boy's mother (born in Marash, a survivor of the genocide of the Armenian people in the Ottoman Empire) used to love to buy lottery tickets whenever she went to the supermarket. She told Marash Girl, "If I win, I promised God that I'll give half the money to the church!" Marash Girl advised with a chuckle, "When you promise God that you'll give all the money to the church, you may win the lottery!"

Karoun On the Connecticut River. . .

"We were on a team building trip. We went north on the Connecticut River from Brunelles Marina to Northampton and back again." Photo credit: Tia Altman

Marash Boy Guards The Anchor Chain At Jim's Clam Shack

Photo by MarashGirl©2021 Marash Girl's experienced family "deck hand" guards the anchor chain at Jim's Clam Shack in Falmouth, Massachusetts.

Label Those Antique Dishes!

Getting together for a summer outing this weekend? Taking an antique cake plate full of freshly baked pastries? Make sure you put your name/address label on the underside of the plate, a label that identifies the dish as yours, especially if there are many folks attending, and your platter is antique. The failure to do so by Marash Girl recently elicited a near loss of Grandma Jennie's treasured cake dish to a stranger who insisted that the dish was hers . . . a cake dish that Grandma Jennie had won at a movie theatre in Cambridge when her ticket stub was the winning stub drawn at the theatre all those many years ago. Marash Martha cautioned Marash Girl to "Label Those Antique Dishes"!!!

Happy Independence Day, France!

[Image From Internet] Every July 14, before the tornado took away the cabin at the top of the mountain, the family -- fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas -- would all gather on the mountain top to celebrate French Independence Day . . . raising the French flag (next to the flag of the United States of America, of course) and singing the Marseillaise out to all the neighborhood and to all in the valley below . . . Those were the the good old days!!!!

"Forgot My FishingTackle . . . "

And the fish love to bite on a grey day. . .

Photo by MarashGirl©2021 Above blog intended to be published on Saturday, July 10, 2021.

Celebrating Independence Day

PhotoCredit:Nicolette Arlette Bilezikian,WrightsvilleBeach,NC

Graduation Day!

Aline's on her way to college!!!!

Tuesday Was The Anniversary Of The Tornado That Blew Away The Cottage On Top Of Wilbraham Mountain!

Tuesday, June 1, was the anniversary of the tornado that destroyed the cottage at the top of Wilbraham Mountain! But the tornado was kind enough to leave the family its source of water . . .

Photo by Karoun Charkoudian Copyright 2021

Medzmama and Stubborn Stains!

When Marash Boy's mom Azniv (which means Grace in English, and she was, indeed, full of grace) . . . To begin again . . . When Marash Boy's mom Azniv was elderly and living with Marash Boy and Marash Girl, she (known to all of us as Medzmama) would delight in removing stains that no person, (not even the advertised miracle cleaners) could remove. "These stains may be stubborn, but I'm more stubborn!" she would often proudly announce. N.B. Medzmama was an Armenian woman born in Marash,Ottoman Empire, and was a survivor of the genocide of the Armenian people.

Grandma Yepros and the Missionaries

Grandpa Moses had come to the United States of America ahead of his wife Yepros and his children -- Gulenia, Paul, Peter and Rosie == for various reasons that cannot be discussed here. Soon after he arrived (knowing no English) he was able to secure a job working in the Vermont quarries, and renting a room with a Swedish family (which accounted for the fact that he spoke English with a Swedish accent). He was able to save most of his earnings, intending to send that money to his family in Marash . . . He gave the money to the missionaries from Boston to carry back with them to his family Marash. Fast forward . . . In Marash, when Grandma Yepros learned that the missionaries were coming to visit, she borrowed food from her neighbors (which she would spend many months repaying) in order to prepare a feast honoring the missionaries. When the missionaries arrived and saw the table covered with plenty of food, they decided not to give the money Grandpa Moses had sent to Grandma Yepros (as seeing the plenty set out on the table , they decided she needed nothing), but rather to give that money to the poor folks who were seriously in need . . . Needless to say, they did not understand the tradition of the Armenians in Marash . . . that tradition of honoring guests by offering them all that you have in your pantry . . . Seeing that Grandma Yepros was not in need (or so they surmised, not understanding the ARmenian tradition), they did NOT give the money Grandpa Moses had sent to Grandma Yepros, but rather decided to give it to other folks who were more in need . . . thus leaving Grandma Yepros in worse financial straits than ever before . . .

Happy Anniversary, Anoushigner!!! սիրեմ քեզի, նիշա ... սիրեմ քեզի, հովհաննես!

Only A Handful Of Screws

"It's only a handful of screws," you say, as you roll your eyes. But what if, one day, you had a specific need for one of those screws? Thus, Marash Girl salvaged the screws from the sidewalk today when she went for her morning stroll. She stashed those screws away in Marash Boy's tool box, as she remembered her father Peter and what he would have said . . . "You never know when you're going to need a screw of exactly that size . . ."

Photo by MarashGirl©2021

PLEASE!!! NO GUNS IN NEWTON!!!!

Dear Mayor Fuller: I am not a resident of Newton. I don't even live in Massachusetts. I am the daughter and granddaughter of a Newtonian family that made its home on Lowell Avenue after the Great Depression. Every summer, my parents would fly our whole family to Logan where we were met by my grandparents, Peter and Jennie. We spent whole summers playing in their yard, mixing it up across the street in an open lot, and walking to Bullough's Pond. As a special treat, we'd take the T to Fenway and root for the Red Sox! The house was down the road from Newton High (now Newton North) - go Tigers! I'm writing about these events because my Newtonville-dwelling aunt informed me of a gun shop - one of many, apparently - that is in process of hanging up its shingle. I can't imagine the Newton/Newtonville of my youth with a gun shop in it. And this is why: We walked as kids, unaccompanied down the streets without fear. We passed Newton North all the time, without fear. We walked to the T and entered Fenway without fear. We ran back and forth from the library to check out books and movies without fear. I understand that there are many people who regard gun ownership as a sacred right. I understand the need of some to possess firearms (the ranchers in my community all have rifles, and often use them against pests to their hens and cattle). But I'm wondering what use a gun shop would be in suburban Newton/Newtonville? As I recall, my lovely childhood summers were spent in a town home to families; schools; civic, cultural, and community centers. We now have three living generations among my Newtonian family. I ask that you and your governmental colleagues do your best to protect against the gun violence that is raging throughout our country. Step one in that battle is disarming the perpetrators. No one can shoot without an easily accessible firearm. Please say no to gun violence; say no to gun shops in Newton! Thank you for heeding my letter, Mayor Fuller. Sincerely, Alison Sykes Graeagle, CA

The Way Marash Girl Remembers Newtonville Square

Above Image Taken From A Vintage Postcard The above image (unknown photographer/historian) looks southward down Walnut Street towards the then Newton High School (what is now known as Newton North High School, very different structures than existed at the time this photo was taken). The photo was taken from just south of Bowers Street (Bowers Street was where the train station and Newtonville Electrical Company were originally located), and Newtonville Avenue (where Newtonville Electrical Company built and moved to its new location at 439 Newtonville Avenue in Newtonville Square). n.b. Newtonville Electrical Company was the shop that Marash Girl's father and uncle established early in the 20th Century.