HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MOMMY AND DADDY!!!!

Marash Girl loves her mommy and daddy so much, but they are no longer with her . . . as both her mommy and daddy were angelic, each in his or her own special way, they have joined the angels in heaven. Marash Girl remembers her dad laughing as he told her the following tale. Peter's Marashtsi Friend: So, Peter, I hear you are getting married. Are you marrying a Marashtsi or an odar? Peter: I'm marrying an odar! Marashtsi Friend: Is she Italiatsi?(Italian?) Peter: Nope! Peter's Marashtsi Friend: Irrish? (spoken with a heavily rolled r) Peter: Nope! Peter's Marashtsi Friend: Eengleesh? (spoken with heavy Armenian accent) Peter's Marashtsi Friend: Vell, who you marrying? Peter: Ainteptsi! At which point Peter's Marashtsi friend started laughing and pushing Peter, recognizing that Peter had been teasing all along. Of course, Peter was marrying Jennie (Lucille Mae), the love of his life who was born and brought up in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the beautiful younger daughter of Antepsi Armenian parents, Yester Bosnian and Garabed Vartanian of Aintab or Antep (the city known today as Gaziantep), both of Jennie's Antepsi Armenian parents having escaped the Armenian Genocide by fleeing Turkey and arriving safely in the United States of America early in the 20th Century. (More on Peter's parents escape of the genocide of the Armenian people in future blogs. Stay tuned!) And although very few folks had been invited to the wedding, as there was very little para in those days for a young couple to feed a large gathering, so many folks arrived at the Armenian Brethren Church in Watertown, Massachusetts, to witness Peter and Jennie's wedding, that the couple had to change the venue of the wedding service at the last moment, moving the minister, themselves, and all in attendance from the Armenian Brethren Church in Watertown, Massachusetts, to the Western Avenue Baptist Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a church large enough to accommodate the crowds that had gathered to witness the marriage of the young couple that was so adored by all! Note 1: odar (pronounced with a heavily rolled r) is the Armenian word for foreigner. Note 2: In the old days, and even today (as evidenced by the title of this blog), folks of Armenian origin self identified by the name of the city from which they hailed in the old country! For example, if they came from Aintep, they were known as Ainteptsis; if they came from Marash, they were known as Marashtsis! Get it?

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 . . .

Watertown Marashtsis And "The Ice-a Crrim"!

Marash Girl's dad Peter used to share the following memory. When he was a little boy and had first come to this country, he and his family would attend the gatherings of Marashtsis (Armenian immigrants from Marash, Ottoman Empire), meetings held once a month on Sunday afternoons in Watertown, Massachusetts. The announcer would often try to quiet the gathering, folks who were so pleased to be together once again, folks catching up on what had happened in the family since their last meeting . . . The announcer, in preparation for the featured speaker of the day, would shout above the din,"Quviet, plees! Quviet, plees; prritty soon, by and by, ve gonna  hava de  ice-a crreem!" (Translation: Quiet, please! Quiet, please! Pretty soon, we're going to have ice cream!)


(It should be noted here that throughout Turkey, Marash--now known as Kahraman Marash-- is famous for it's ice cream ... or should I say, ice-a crrim!) Marash Girl's dad Peter (Bedros) reports that while sitting in that audience with his fellow Armenian immigrants, he would think to his 9 year old self, " . . .I wonder if I'll ever be able to speak English that well!" By the time Marash Girl knew her dad Peter, he was speaking perfect, unaccented English. Having graduated from Watertown High School with honors, he had been accepted to M.I.T. with a full scholarship!!! N.B. For more on Peter and M.I.T., see MarashGirl.blogspot.com, Aug 14, 2020.

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

Scraping the Bowl!

 Visiting cousins in Troy, New York, Marash Girl sat with her auntie and her cousin while her auntie prepared a special cake for the family.  Removing the cake batter from the mixing bowl, and placing the batter into the oiled cake pan, her auntie continued to scrape the bowl until every drop of cake batter had been removed from the mixing bowl and was in the cake pan.  Auntie's daughter began to rant:  "How cheap can you be?  You have to scrape every bit of batter out of the bowl?"  Auntie did not answer her daughter.  Auntie knew better.  Auntie's daughter had never been hungry, had not survived a genocide, and had no appreciation for her mother, nor for the ageless advice:  "Waste not, want not."  Auntie was wise enough not to say a word.  She simply placed the cake pan filled with batter into the preheated oven, and began to clean up the kitchen, 45 minutes later serving the cake, just out of the oven, to her guests.

Marash Girl thinks of that incident every time she prepares batter for a cake, muffins, pancakes, or scones.  Hopefully, by now, that Troy cousin has learned to respect her elders, and to "Waste Not!"

We miss you, Grandpa Peter!!!!

Remembering Grandpa Peter, born in Marash, Eastern Anatolia, in August of 1912, he attended Watertown, MA, Public Schools.  His favorite poem, a poem he referred to often, a poem which embodies his philosophy of life, is copied below.  Oh, how we miss you, Grandpa Peter!!!

The House by the Side of the Road

by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)

There are hermit
souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house
by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban;-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house
by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-
Both parts of an infinite plan;-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened
meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my
house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Happy Anniversary, Anoushig!!!!!

Sylva, the daughter of a well known Armenian writer, greeted Marash Girl at the entrance to Cabot Hall on the first day of Marash Girl's first year of college,  with the following announcement:  "I have the perfect man for you . . . He's Armenian, he's Protestant, he's Marashtsi, and he's here in the Graduate School at Harvard!!!" Well, Marash Girl did not believe Sylva, but ten years later, Sylva was proven right!

Happy Anniversary, Anoushig!!! You have, indeed, been the perfect man for Marash Girl!!!!

"Never go visiting empty-handed!!!"

A hard and fast rule growing up, Marash Girl learned that one should never go visiting "empty-handed"!  Whether it be a chocolate cake baked that very day by her mom (Grandma Jennie), or a box of Whitman's Samplers, chocolates purchased that day from the Armenian owned pharmacy, the rule was clear.

Today Marash Girl learned from her Turkish friend Murat that, yes, this is not only a rule in the Armenian community, but it is a teaching from the prophet Muhammed:  

            "Ziyarete eli boş gidilmez."  "One should not go visiting with an empty hand."

All the Way to Istanbul to Meet with the Best Eye Doctor in the Land

Here's a story that Grandpa Peter used to tell.

There was a little boy in Marash, Turkey, who had very bad eye infections.  No matter what his parents used to heal the little boy's eyes, no matter what the local medicine woman suggested, nothing helped.  So one day, the little boy's parents decided to take their son to the best eye doctor in the land.  The family traveled all the way to Istanbul.  After waiting days, the family was finally granted an appointment with the renowned opthamologist.   When the doctor entered the room and examined the little boy's eyes, he asked the little boy to hold out his hands.  The doctor looked at the little boy's hands, and proceeded to tie the boy's hands behind the boy's back.  

"He'll be fine now," the doctor said.

Happy Birthday, Marash Boy!!!!

Marash Boy stoking the fire at his favorite fireplace, at the top of Wilbraham Mountain,                           before the tornado...

Marash Girl remembers the first day she met you, Marash Boy!!! You were wearing the same beard that you are wearing today.  She loved you from that first day, beard and all, right through to this very moment, beard and all!!!!  Happy Birthday, Levon, my love!!!!

No Shoes

Shoes and Socks Abandoned Yesterday
 On Newton Corner Church Steps
Photo by Marash Girl

Marash Girl remembers her dad,  Peter Bilezikian, quoting an old saying . . . don't know if it was from his life in Brighton, Massachusetts, or from his life in Marash, Ottoman Empire.  It went something like this . . . but it was in his native tongue of Armeno-Turkish . . . and not just a saying, but all too real for him.

"I wept that I had no shoes, until I saw a man who had no feet."

Healing, Old Country Style

There's a story that the old folks used to tell about a boy in Marash who had a terrible eye infection.  No salve the local healer suggested would heal the boy's eyes.  Finally it was suggested that the family take their son to Istanbul to the most famous doctor of all.  The family did so at great expense both in time and money.  Finally arriving in Istanbul, the boy's father asked where to find this most famous of all doctors.  

Arriving at the door of this famous hekim, the family was ushered into his office with great dispatch. When the doctor learned of the boy's plight and examined the boy's eyes, he asked the boy to hold out his hands.  The doctor then tied the boy's hands behind the boy's back and told the family that the boy's eyes would be fine, that the eyes would heal very soon.

Playing the Piano for the Marashtsis in Watertown

Recently, Marash Girl attended a meeting of the Union of Marash Armenians, Watertown Chapter.  The entertainment consisted of a young man performing a piano duet with his teacher.  The scene was reminiscent of a day many years ago when Marash Girl herself was introduced, walked onto that same stage, and stood curtseying at the piano (could it have been the same grand piano?).  After the welcoming applause, all was quiet -- all was quiet until she sat on the piano bench, and played the first notes of the piece she had so carefully memorized  . . . that was the signal for the audience . . . the folks in the audience immediately began to chatter.  No matter!  Marash Girl happily played on, aware that were she to make a mistake, no-one would notice!  At her last note, all became silent for one moment, and then a thunder of applause -- applause, she realized , that the audience gladly proffered as they realized they could now go back to chattering without guilt, which was, in reality, the reason they had all gathered that day in Watertown, Massachusetts.

Amahn!

And thinking of "Oho!", how many of you grew up with the expression, "Ahmahn!"  (When you say "Ahmahn", the "Ah" is said on a lower note and the rest of the word ends on an much extended higher note as an exclamation!)  How many years has it been since you've heard anyone say, "Ahmahn!"  Marash Girl can't even count the years.

An expression of annoyed amazement, an expression used by the folks from Marash and Aintab (by the Marashtsis and the Aintepsis), and expression of that Marash Girl wishes she could still hear.

"Ahmahn!"

The First Day

Unlike the father cited in yesterday's blog, Marash Girl's father always encouraged his children with the following words:

"Today is the first day of the rest of your life!"

No matter what mistakes they had made, no matter what how discouraged they may have felt, those words encouraged his children to continue to strive, to continue to thrive!

How he had learned this lesson, where he had heard these words?  Were the  words a translation from the Armenian?  Were they words his Yankee teachers had taught him in Watertown?  Marash Girl will never know, but what she does know is the truth of the words.  Read them and feel encouraged:

"Today is the first day of the rest of your life!"

Djannum!

"Djannum,"  Marash Girl's dad would say as he hugged her.  "Djannum," her grandmother would say as she put both arms around Marash Girl.

What does djannum mean?  The words mean, "My soul!"  What does that mean when one person says "Djannum" to another?  More than words can tell.  How can someone mean more to a person than his/her own soul.  And that's what all her dear departed (the ones who were born in Marash) would call Marash Girl as they hugged and kissed her.

No-one has called Marash Girl "Djannum" for decades . . . decades.  She misses them, she misses their hugs, she misses their words of love, she misses being called "Djannum".

This Year's Gathering of the Union of Marash Armenians Honors President Nevart Kouyoumjian

Several hundred Marashtsi Armenians gathered yesterday in Belmont, Massachusetts, to honor Mrs. Nevart Kouyoumjian, longtime President of the Union of Marash Armenians, Watertown Chapter.
Nevart: "I wondered why there were so many people here today!"(FYI, it was a miserable, cold, rainy Sunday afternoon, and clearly, Nevart had no idea that she was being honored.)
The featured speaker, Sherriff Peter Koutoujian, began, "I'm the only Hye Sheriff there is!  How can I say, 'No!' to Nevart when she calls me and begins, "Hokis, goukas?"

The gathered further celebrated by singing Yerevan - Erepouni, the first several stanzas of which Marash Girl has taken the liberty of printing below:

Yerevan tarts adz, im Erepouni;
Tou mer nor Tevin,mer no Ani.
Mer pokrig high, you meds yerazank,
Mer tare guard, mer kare nazan.

Yerevan tars adz, im Erepouni,
tarer es antes, pays menatsel es badin.
Ko Massis horror, ko Arax morov.
Medians tarot, Yerevan!

Men aryan gantcher, ounenk mer serum.
Angular drencher, ounenk ter shad
Mer gantchn grants key, i your ge gortchi,
Grants kez, mer dak dentchn el ge sartchi.

Gyankoum amen ser linoume drapear,
Msg men colors enk kennov april.
Dak e sere mer, she karerit bes,
Hin e sere mer, tsk tarerit bes.

Lyrics: Paruyr Sevak; Music: Edgar Hovhannisyan

l. to r.  Sheriff of Middlesex County Peter Koutoujian honors Mrs. Nevart Kouyoumjian

Honored Guest, President Nevart Kouyoumjian

Honored guests congratulate Mrs. Nevart Kouyoumjian (center front). Photo by Marash Gir

Watertown Marashtsis gather to honor President Nevart Kouyoumjian

Going to see THE POST

Went to see the Post at the West Newton Cinema yesterday...Tickets were $10 for Seniors, $12 for Adults, $10 for Children.  Marash Girl asked for a Children's ticket.  She wasn't about to admit that she was a senior, but the idea of being a child rather appealed to her.  

And seeing the wonderful work of Ben Bagdigian  spread across the movie screen appealed to her even more!  It was not until she arrived home and shared her movie experience with Marash Boy that she learned that Ben Bagdigian had been born in Marash, had grown up in Springfield, Massachusetts, Ben's sister a good friend of Marash Boy's mother.  Small world!

Thank God He's Not A Protestant!

Born in Marash as Bedros, and grandson of the first Protestant minister in Marash (Sarkis Bilezikjian), Peter would love to tell the following story, a story that has particular significance when one is aware of the anger that was caused, the rift in families, when the Protestant movement reached Marash in the 19th Century (via missionaries from Boston, by the way)!

Neighbor Woman:  (snippily and sarcastically)  So, I hear your son has become a Poghokagan (Protestant)!

Marashtsi Mother:  No, thank God!  He got up this morning, late for work, drank a shot of whiskey, swore at me, and walked out of the house slamming the door.  Thank God he's not a Protestant!

Stretch Your Toes to the Length of your Yorghan

Got cold feet?  All you have to do, according to Marash Girl's dad, is to "Stretch Your Toes to the Length of your Yorghan!"  Now that could mean not to stretch out quite as far as you've been stretching, or it could mean to stretch even farther than you've been stretching.  Try even harder.  Work even more intensely!  In any case, that's the advise from the old country, the old country being Marash, of course!