The Harvard Reunion

Ever take a look at yourself in the mirror?  Most of us flee the opportunity.  Actually, Marash Girl's mother-in-law used to tell Marash Girl that once she had passed the age of 50, she stopped looking into the mirror, at least not for very long!  (She was once the beauty of Marash!) But attending Marash Boy's Reunion made it impossible not to look reality square in the face, even if it was not your face!  There they were, all Harvard Men, all of an age before women were allowed into Harvard, all looking their age. Had that much time really passed?

Dancing through Harvard Square: A Politically Incorrect Blogpost

Many years ago, Marash Girl and her best friend Linda Jen were wandering through Harvard Square when they met up with some guys who were students at Boston College.  The guys insisted that all Harvard men were "fairies".  Marash Girl and Linda Jen vehemently contradicted the proposition.  "But look," they insisted as they pointed to a group of guys who were literally waving their arms, skipping and dancing down the street. . . "That just proves it!"

Gary Lind-Senanian Addresses Radcliffe Class of '62 at the Armenian Museum of America

Above: Gary Lind-Senanian explains that every young Armenian man was taught to carve "khatchkars" as the young Armenian women were taught needle lace.  See an example of a khatchkar  (literally, cross of stone) to the right of Gary in the photo above.

Radcliffe Class of 1962 had a special treat in store for them yesterday when they visited the Armenian Museum of America.  A wealth of knowledge, the curator, Gary Lind-Senanian gave them an in depth tour of Armenian art and history as he wended his way through the museum, leading the group through the many and varied artifacts on view at ALMA.  Thank you, Gary, from the ladies of the Radcliffe Class of 1962.

Return Visit to Widener Library

Widener Reading Room
No photos were allowed to be taken inside of Widener Library.
 This Photo Credit: Harvard.Edu

Walking into Widener Library last week,  and up the stairs to the Reading Room, Marash Girl looked to her left for the 22 year old Marash Boy.  Would he be rushing along the wall, head bent in concentration, hurrying from his carrell along the shelves in the Reading Room to check out a question in the Encyclopedia of Islam edited by among others, his professor, Sir Hamilton Gibb?  No, he was nowhere to be seen.  She looked across the room to her place at the long library tables. Would she be reading there? Waiting? But she was not there.  Nor was anyone sleeping,  as they were wont to do back in the day, head bent over arms,   pillowed by the pages of an open book. There were some steadily working . . . on slim silver cases . . . and a few reading books. . .  Well, of course. It was the Reading Room, was it not?

Last Petals from the Harvard-Radcliffe Reunion

Western Armenian at Harvard

The class in Western Armenian taught by Prof. Avedis Sanjian at Harvard Univesity, a class which Marash Girl took in her sophomore year while attending a college that no longer exists (Radcliffe College) was probably the most valuable class that she took there.  Raised in a church that was multilingual (Armenian, Turkish, and English), and an extended family where the folks on the first floor spoke English and Turkish, the folks on the second floor spoke English and Armenian (and Turkish only if they had to) and the folks on the third floor spoke Armenian (and only Turkish or English if they had to), she grew up speaking English, understanding Turkish (though not being allowed to speak it), and hearing Armenian (though not really understanding it).  After one year of studying Armenian with Prof. Sanjian (who, she later learned, was a distant relative whose ancestors hailed from Marash), she could read, write and speak the language . . . it came in really handy when she married into a family (Marashtsi, of course) that spoke Armenian, Turkish and English!

Massachusetts Chief Justice Margaret Marshall speaks at Radcliffe Day

Massachusetts Chief Justice Margaret Marshall (right) preparing to speak yesterday at Radcliffe Day in the Radcliffe Yard, Cambridge, Massachusetts.  Photo Credit: Marash Girl

Featured speaker at Radcliffe Day was former Massachusetts Chief Justice Margaret Marshall.  Chief Justice Marshall opened her remarks by thanking Radcliffe "for encouraging us to question".  She was awarded the Radcliffe Institute Medal, an award presented annually to "an individual who has had a transformative impact on society." Born in South Africa, Margaret Marshall was the 24th Chief Justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court from 1999 to 2010.

MEMORY and the HARVARD-RADCLIFFE REUNION

It's amazing how much we don't remember.  Or rather, how much we don't know we remember.  Amazing how much place takes part in memory.  Put yourself in the same place with the same folks, despite the passage of years, and the memories flood back, so fast, that they nearly drown you.  Try it.  You may not like it.  But then again, you may!

HARVARD CONTINUES TO CELEBRATE 375 YEARS

Photo Credit:  Kent Barrabee '62

Former Harvard Radcliffe Armenian Club enthusiasts posed for the camera yesterday on the steps of Widener Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

HARVARD CELEBRATES 375 YEARS

You remember the old joke, right?


"You can always tell a Harvard man, but you can't tell him much!"


Recently, when a humble graduate of said university expressed hesitance over attending her upcoming reunion with the words, "Who would want to hear what I have to say?", Marash Girl replied, "No worries.  They'll want YOU to hear what THEY have to say!"  She laughed, but whether she attended the reunion or not is another question . . .  

Overheard at the Entrance to the Dining Room, Harvard Club, Boston, April 2012

Maitre d' (to woman):  You can't go into the dining room wearing jeans.


Woman:  These are blue pants.


Maitre d': They're jeans.  You can't go into the dining room wearing jeans.


Woman:  Shall I take them off then?

From Godiva to Whitman's - Bir yumurshak var mu?

Recently, at a planning meeting  for the Harvard Radcliffe Reunion (won't tell you which one), Marash Girl and Harvard Man were assigned the task of ordering a souvenir fit for Reunion attendees to carry home with them.  In jest, Harvard Man suggested a box of Godiva Chocolates, which Marash Girl thought was a fine idea except for the fact that the box would never make it home intact, much less become a souvenir, unless the celebrants would consider an empty box a fitting memory of their college years -- now there's a thought!

Beyond that, the box, in order to be a proper souvenir, would have to be a Whitman's Sampler, for in those days, Godiva was an English lady who rode naked through the streets of Coventry on horseback and not a box of chocolates.  Whitman's Sampler -- you know, the yellow box that opens on a hinge and has a plan printed inside its cover identifying the different types of candies in the box so that those among us who could read English could decide which candy we should sample.

All of the above (does the phrase remind you of a multiple choice test on a college entrance exam?) reminds me of my childhood when, wherever our family went to visit a relative in our old Chevrolet (won't tell the year), just before arriving at our destination, Marash Girl's father would pull up in front of a drug store to buy a box of -- no, not drugs --  a Whitman's Sampler to take to the home of our hosts.  Almost always, it was a home where there would be a very old lady all dressed in black, a widow who had survived the Armenian genocide, an aunty who knew no English, whose eyes would light up when she saw the box of Whitman's chocolates.  

Although she was baking cheoreg in the oven for us (and we could smell the wonderful sweet yeasty aroma of those Armenian sesame rolls as soon as we entered her home),  our hostess upon settling us in her living room, would break open the cellophane wrapping to the box of Whitman's chocolates we had brought and offer the candies to us, her guests.  The eyes of her elderly mother (or mother-in-law, as the case may have been) would light up and Aunty would ask (not knowing English and eyeing the box of chocolates), Bir yumurshak var mu?  Is there a soft one?  To this day, I remember that phrase, because we kids HATED soft centered chocolates and if at home, would furtively press our thumb under the chocolate to see if white gooey stuff would emerge, and when the goo appeared, we would replace the chocolate in its paper nest to hide the fact that it had been mutilated.

So how do I end this post?  What do you say, Harvard Man?  Do we get those Godiva Chocolates?  Are we at the age yet where we'll have to ask, Bir yumurshak var mu?