Remembering Wilbraham and the Storming of the Bastille!

"Here is my memory : "We would set up a “bastille” (jail) using sticks leaned against a tree - the big beech (?) tree in front of the cabin. One year Uncle George was the person “in jail” - he was inside all the sticks and then we stormed the bastille and broke him out 😄 "Also, Papa would always get a whole wheel of authentic Brie cheese - it was huge and I didn’t like how the Brie tasted - but later I learned to love it! Sometimes we would keep the wooden round box that the Brie cheese came in and we would use it to store other things, like small toys." ` Above memory from Ahsin!

Remembering the Fourth of July on Wilbraham Mountain . . .

Before the tornado . . . before the tornado took with it the cabin that sat on top of Wilbraham Mountain . . . many Armenian-American families originally from Marash celebrated every Fourth of July on top of their beloved Wilbraham Mountain. How did they celebrate? --Raising the American Flag on a flagpole on top of Wilbraham Mountain, signaling the beginning of summer for the Marashtsis in Western Massachusetts! --Building a fire in the stone fireplace built by the Marashtsi men behind the cabin, a fire perfectly designed for cooking the shish kebab that the Marashtsi women had prepared by hand for all to enjoy. --Putting up the curtains and making up the beds in the cabin (the building which had been the first schoolhouse in Springfield, Massachusetts) on the top of Wilbraham Mountain. --Remembering the blessings of this United States of America, the country that had welcomed these folks, many of whom had survived the horrors of the Genocide of the Armenian people. --And Levon and George as young boys, shooting off fireworks to celebrate with their parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles the freedom and wonders of their country, The United States Of America!

Wilbraham, Our Wilbraham!

Photo by JohnSimmons©2022

Don't Know Why, But In The Midst of All This Snow, Marash Girl Is Remembering Summer Saturdays In Sturbridge Before The Tornado

Years ago, several years before the 2011 summer tornado hit Massachusetts, Marash Girl and her family would not only summer in the old cabin on top of Wilbraham Mountain, but would often spend time there at the end of a work week, leaving late on a Friday afternoon from the eastern side of the Bay State to arrive in Wilbraham about an hour and a half later, traffic allowing. On such weekends, Marash Girl would often drive on Saturday afternoons down from the top of Wilbraham Mountain, east to Sturbridge, Massachusetts, to join the artists, writers, musicians, and poets of the area, all meeting at a restaurant's coffee shop, if only for a cup of coffee and some words of encouragement. (Marash Girl was honored to be welcomed into the group . . .) But as Marash Girl's father would have said at this juncture, "Those days are gone . . . forever!" N.B. Should any of you reading this blog be one of the artists, writers, musicians, or poets that used to meet in Sturbridge in those days, please comment below! Or email!

LOOK WHO'S CHECKING OUT WILBRAHAM MOUNTAIN IN LATE DECEMBER!

Photo by LittleQuail©2021

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!!!!

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

Purslane: Nutritious, Delicious, Salvation From Starvation

Photo taken in Newton, Massachusetts by MarashGirl©2021 Above is a contemporary photo of purslane (perper in Armenian, ermerouk in Turkish). According to Marash Girl's interviews with survivors of the Ottomans'attempted genocide of the Armenian people early in the 20th century, purslane was often the only source of nutrition, nutrition that if those Armenians were "lucky", they would gather along the roadside, their only source of nutrition as they were marched out of their homes by the gendarmes of the Ottoman Empire, marched into the desert during the "death march"(see internet explanation below) . . . Today purslane (ermerouk in Turkish) is often used by Marash Girl as a vegetable to be used in salads and soups . . . both the leaves and the stems of the the plant are highly nutritious and delicious. Gardeners will welcome your gathering the purslane from among their plants, as purslane will suddently appear unbidden, particularly among the tomato plants in vegetable gardens throughout the northeast! Just be sure to remove the roots and wash the purslane plants in cool water, rinsing numerous times in order to rid the plants of any soil before chopping the purslane for soups or salads. N.B. Below taken from the internet: "Perhaps the most "classical" example of the death march was the one that occurred as part of the Armenian genocide in Ottoman Turkey (part of the fading Ottoman Empire) in 1915. The events leading up to that death march were paradigmatic of the experience of genocide victims in other places." "The death march of the Armenian population of the Ottoman Empire took place against the backdrop of the hostilities of World War I. In the spring of 1915 Ottoman rulers ordered that all Armenians be expelled from their homes in areas outside of war zones. The Armenians—men, women, and children—were then lined up and made to walk in convoys of tens of thousands toward the Syrian desert. Although the expulsions resembled deportations, the treatment of the people making the march by Turkish "guards" made it clear that a more sinister agenda was driving the march: a planned elimination of the Armenian population through a process of starvation and exhaustion. The death march was a culmination of decades of Turkish discrimination against Armenians, which had long consisted of the barring of Armenians from serving in the Turkish army, repeated executions of small groups of Armenians, and mass killings by special forces known as Teshkilâti Mahsusa—gangs of violent ex-convicts ordered by the Ottoman/Turkish government to commit murders of Armenians." N.B. Lest we forget . . . From the Internet: "June 1, Wilbraham, Massachusetts Two tornadoes hit Wilbraham on June 1, 2011, Town Administrator Robert A. Weitz says. The first was the F-3 tornado which also devastated Springfield and Monson and cut a swath through Wilbraham from Tinkham Road, south of the center of town, to Monson." And to relate this note to the above blogpost, before the tornado, Marash Girl's garden in Wilbraham was replete with wild purslane growing unbidden among the carefully planted tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and zucchini.

Today is National Hole In My Bucket Day!

Marash Girl and her children used to love to sing "There's a Hole in My Bucket" during their rides to Wilbraham, Massachusetts, those wonderful summers before the tornado destroyed the cabin and the trees on top of Wilbraham Mountain. Below, although in Marash Girl's memory, are the lyrics (somewhat amended) as taken from the internet...Please feel free to sing along. There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza, There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole. Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it. With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza, With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, with what? With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, With a straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, a straw. But the straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza, The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long. Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it! With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza, With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, with what? With an ax, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, With an ax, dear Henry, dear Henry, an ax. But the ax is too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza, The ax is too dull, dear Liza, too dull. Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, Then sharpen it dear Henry, dear Henry, sharpen it! With what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza, With what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, with what? With a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, With a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, a stone. But the stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza, The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry. Then wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, Then wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it. With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza, With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, with what? With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water. But how shall I get it?, dear Liza, dear Liza, But how shall I get it?, dear Liza, with what? With the bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry, With the bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, the bucket! But there's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza, There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

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!!!

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!!!!

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!!!!"

Remembering Arppie's Three Bean Salad!!!

As temperatures hit the 90's, Marash Girl remembers the wonderful summer days spent in Wilbraham, with all the family members, each bringing a special something for the picnic table.  Arppie's special something took no time at all to prepare, and yet it was everybody's favorite!!! She would simply open a can of black beans, a can of kidney beans, and a can of chick peas, making sure that the contents contained no preservatives or artificial ingredients . . . draining the cans and rinsing the beans well in cool fresh water.  She then added chopped fresh parsley, the juice of a freshly squeezed lemon, some olive oil, and, of course, salt, pepper, and a dash of Armenian red pepper.  There you have it!!! Her secret?  Preparing the salad the day before the picnic, and allowing it to marinate in the refrigerator for 12 to 24 hours!!!

                            
                                      We miss you, Arppie!!!  

N.B.  Could she have learned to make this salad from her good friend, Esther Hawsley?

STORMING THE BASTILLE: BASTILLE DAY ON WILBRAHAM MOUNTAIN

"The French National Day is the anniversary of Storming of the Bastille on 14 July 1789, a turning point of the French Revolution, as well as the Fête de la Fédération which celebrated the unity of the French people on 14 July 1790." (From the Internet)

Karoun: I love the brie cheese memories, so sweet!  Here's what I remember of the theatrics, I think I was really young because I was watching. Uncle George and a woman (who was only there that time, I don't remember who she was, but I think she was a friend of Mum's not of Uncle George) were sitting under the bastille -- large sticks laid against the tree that's at the corner of the woods closest to the cabin porch, where the flags are raised. They were sharing bits of french bread (that was supposed to be stale). Then all of you guys came running at the bastille yelling and screaming and knocked the sticks down and freed them. I think it was a little scary for me lolll.

Lorig: That's right. We leaned a bunch of big sticks against the tree and then we knocked them down.

I think it was probably one of Uncle George's girlfriends, but I am sure she never came back again after that. LOL

I think we did it a few times. One time I think Uncle George got knocked on the head with one of the large sticks. I remember him being a really good sport about it. I felt really bad. Because I am pretty sure I organized the entire dramatic scene. It is the kind of thing I would have done. :)

Karoun:  I don't remember Uncle George getting hit! You probably did direct it. I have vague fond memories of being in your "plays" with the cabin's porch as the stage.

Deron: I recall hanging the French flag next to the American flag. I also recall NOT wanting the Brie cheese.

Nisha:  I think Lorig and I liked the Brie but we kept leaving bits of the skin around because we only liked the creamy inside part 😄.  Of course, Papa would say “but that’s the best part!” And also tell us not to leave the skin bits on the cheese board 😂.  And practicing whatever French we could remember!

Marash Girl:  Juillet Quatorze was the only day we took the Armenian flag down to hang the French flag next to the American Flag!

Lee Powell, Cows, and Thunder & Lightning on Wilbraham Mountain

This photo (borrowed from the internet) brought to mind Wilbraham neighbor Lee Powell's personal memory of having narrowly escaped death by lightning on her farm as she ran for cover, her cows hit by lightning falling behind her  . . .  and the day Marash Boy and Marash Girl just made it back from their run along Ridge Road to their mountain cabin, as furious bolts of lightning struck behind them   . . . one of the most ferocious thunder and lightning storms that the couple had ever encountered on Wilbraham Mountain.  The experience, of course, was worsened by having heard Lee Powell's memory!  Are you still up there on Wilbraham Mountain, Lee Powell?

A Tart to Share

Marash Girl and Marash Boy drove West to enjoy the beautiful day on the top of Wilbraham Mountain, where Karoun was awaiting their arrival.

[Marash Girl had promised Karoun a fruit tart from Whole Foods to share with the class Karoun is training to become yoga instructors.]

When Marash Girl handed Karoun the tart, Karoun started laughing.

"What's so funny?" asked Marash Girl

"I thought you were talking about a tart the size of a muffin.  I didn't realize you meant a tart the size of a pie!"

"Why else would I promise that you could share it with your friends?  Especially when I apologized for having eaten a quarter of the tart!"

Taxes and Open Space, a tradeoff?

"It's always a tradeoff between taxes and open space," says Selectman known to support 'good causes' in western Massachusetts.  Such a sad tradeoff.  Open space? They aren't making any more of it!

The Barns of Western Massachusetts

The barns of Western Massachusetts housed not only the animals, but the tramps who walked in from the train station in the cold of winter -- no longer could they live out in the woods -- they needed a warm place to stay, a place warmed by the animals in the barn, and, if the farmer's wife was kind, she would invite the man (women were never seen as tramps in Western Massachusetts) . . . the farmer's wife would invite the tramp in to eat at the family table.

Or, as Medzmama experienced in the city of Springfield, Massachusetts, the tramps would come to the back door and ask for food, food which she would always gladly give them, as she had experienced hunger and loss in her youth during the "aksoroutioun", known today as the Genocide of the Armenians by the Ottoman Turks.  She had tramped, as it were, not in the cities, but into the deserts where the problem was not only to keep warm (during the nights), but to keep hydrated during the days, to keep from getting sunstroke and heat stroke.  Oh, what our parents/grandparents experienced was far more than the tramps, for our parents had to care for those around them -- they were not alone to do what they would with their lives -- they were a part of a family, if only the human family, the Armenian family that was becoming smaller every day from the ravages of hunger and thirst and disease and hopelessness.  

Now how did Marash Girl ever get here from thinking about the barns in winter in Western Massachusetts?

The Sweetest Corn In The Town/County/Commonwealth

A  Picture of a picture:  Undated vintage photo of the Wilbraham Village Store
Wilbraham, Massachusetts

If you're anywhere near the center of Wilbraham, Massachusetts, (see above vintage photo of the Wilbraham Village Store in Wilbraham Center), head south on Main Street, (that's towards Connecticut, if you you're not good at geography) but don't drive too fast, because you might miss the Merrick Farm and farm stand on your right, about a half mile from the village center . . .  In the Merrick family for generations, the farm is farmed by Llewellyn Merrick (below).  He gathers his crops proudly and is often heard to say to his customers, "Here -- have an ear of corn. I just picked it. It's so sweet and tender, you don't even have to put the water on to boil!"  . . . the freshest veggies around! Don't miss your chance to visit Lewlleyn Merrick at The Merrick Farm, Wilbraham, Massachusetts.                    

Llewelyn Merrick, our very own local farm hero!

MANY DAYS LEFT FROM THE OLD DAYS!

Playing Bocce on the mountain in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, on Labor Day!

LOOKING FORWARD TO MANY MORE DAYS FROM THE OLD DAYS!

See Marash Girl's Blog Post for Thursday, October 17, 2013,  
One day left from the old days . . .  "Eski günlerden bir gün kalmush . . ."