"What a guy!" . . . Remembering Eddie (Serge) Bilezikian

Eddie,  our Cousin Eddie, Serge from Paris, Eddie who spoke English with a romantic French accent, who spoke fluent French and fluent Armenian, who appreciated a beautiful woman, who appreciated women, Eddie who was fearless, no matter who he confronted, from the fiercest enemies during wartime to the most  sultry of  "enemies" during peacetime, women trying to lure him into the bedroom ("Non, non!") while he was delivering freshly cleaned clothes from his father's dry cleaning/tailoring shop in Newton Centre, Eddie who was looking for the good woman, a Christian wife (when Peter told him to join Boston's Park Street Church Young Adult's Group, he found just that in the love of his life soon to be his wife Ann . . . Ann, who loved to refer to her husband Eddie as "my French lover"). . . Eddie who always joked and laughed with us kids -- he was a paratrooper in the French army; he came to this country and became a paratrooper in the United States army; he told any who challenged his beliefs or morals, "You don't show me much!"  

Marash Girl still remembers his first year in this country.  "Serge" presented us with his card:  Serge Bilezik D'Jian.  We were so impressed!  He always joked with us and laughed with us.  Because he was such a "fun" person, we children decided to put his Christmas gift (always a brand new white shirt) in a small box, then a bigger box, then a bigger box, then a bigger box.  Eddie did not disappoint us.  He started opening his gift with vigor -- flinging his arms about, feigning (or perhaps it was real) great excitement, throwing the ribbon and wrapping paper about, tossing aside the empty boxes as he reached for the smaller and smaller box until he arrived at the prize.  A brand new white shirt.  Always a brand new white shirt. And then his shouts of "surprise", joy and laughter only outdone by us -- his six little cousins at 474/476 Lowell Avenue in Newtonville, Massachusetts, many miles from his family, many miles from the Paris of his birth, but only inches away from the family who loved him so.

(The heading, "What a guy!" is attributed to Uncle Paul Bilezikian.  It's the only phrase that truly captures the totality of our cousin, now passed away, Eddie Bilezikian.)

In a hundred years. . .

Whenever Marash Girl got very upset about a disappointment in her teenage life, her father, a survivor of the Armenian Genocide, chuckled to himself and commented,  "In a hundred years, you'll never know the difference."

Arevik Tserunyan's THE LOST EMPIRE at the Armenian Museum of America

Arevik Tserunyan at ALMA's opening of her exhibit, "THE LOST EMPIRE"

These sculptures, presently on display at the Armenian Museum of America,  were the setting for a theatrical musical presentation at ALMA this past Sunday afternoon.

Top o' the mornin' to ya!

Because Peter was  blonde with blue eyes,  an Armenian who had been born in Marash, growing up in the United States, a young man in an Armenian-American community, a young man surrounded by dark eyed, dark haired, dark skinned Armenians,  an Armenian growing up in the Irish neighborhoods of Brighton. . .  Because of his friends and because of his light skin, blonde hair and blue eyes,  the members of the Armenian community always called him "Irish" with a heavy Armenian accented rolled "r".  Perhaps Marash Girl should write the word as she heard it pronounced: Irrrrrish!  Peter's  children (except for Marash Girl who looks like her mother) have blonde hair and blue eyes as well.  Thus Peter and his family  (including Marash Girl) have always joined the Boston Irish in celebrating St. Patrick's Day!  Top o' the mornin' to ya!

9 February 1920: Marash Yaniyor (Marash Burning)

                                          Historical Photo of Marash Burning - 9 February 1920
                                                  Photo Credit: Facebook's Bir Zamanlar Marash

A sad day for the Armenians of Marash . . .

Traffic Calming Ahead!

"Traffic Calming Ahead".  The sign in Takoma Park, Maryland, announcing calming gave Marash Girl pause as she had never heard of the concept in New England.  What exactly did it mean? There was little or no traffic to be seen on this suburban road which connected no particularly important streets to no particularly important streets. Were there comforting roadside stands meant to calm drivers down?  Lemonade vendors? Strains of Montovanni music coming from the windows of the lovely little houses lining the streets?  Folks sitting along the side of the road in rocking chairs ready to share their philosophy with would be passers by?  Nope. Not at all.

Turns out that the traffic calming consisted of little more than road bumps crossing from sidewalk to sidewalk (road bumps that used to be called "Dead Bodies" in Beirut, Lebanon, in the 1960's) and full islands, all attempting to frustrate the intentions of would be speedsters.  The city had been nice enough to warn drivers to  take care not to tear out the bottoms of their cars.  Thank you, Takoma Park!

Are you happy in the Lord?

Piter used to love to regale us with the story of Mrs. Chorian, who approached him after church one day (on the front steps of the United Armenian Brethren Evangelical Church of Watertown, Massachusetts, the church that was begun by Marash Girl's great uncle Vartan).

"Piterrrr . . . Are you happy in the Lord?"

"Yes, Mrs. Chorian, I'm happy in the Lord."

"But, Piterr . . . Are you happy in the Lord ALL THE TIME?"

"But Mrs. Chorian! People who are happy all the time are in the crazy house!"

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent!)

A Tribute to Blair Brown (1941-2016)

Above: Carol Brown addresses the gathered remembering her husband, Blair Brown (1941-2016)

On Saturday afternoon,  March 12, over 500 neighbors, friends, relatives, classmates, and business associates gathered in Boston at Franklin Institute of Technology  to remember  Blair Brown (1941-2016).

Remembrances were provided by Patrick O'Reilly (Eliot Church friend), Anne Bailey Berman (Benjamin Franklin Institute friend, Blair's successor as Board Chair), Lionel Spiro (Friend from Fall River and Harvard days, co-founder and partner at Charrette), Amanda Blair Brown (Carol & Blair's daughter), John Deknatel  (Design School friend and boating companion), Paul Pender (Early Charrette employee, mentee and lifelong friend), Susan Brecht (Pastor of Eliot Church), Charley Norris (Harvard Graduate School of Design classmate), Samuel J. Brown (Carol & Blair's son), Don Leka (Newton Corner friend), and Carol Brown (Blair's wife). Opening music was provided by a string quartet, one of Blair's favorite hymns was sung by all (Eternal Father, Strong to Save), beloved by Blair because of its sea imagery, and closing music was provided by a piano/flute/string bass trio.  The remembrance ceremony was followed by a reception at the Institute.

[It was noted that because Blair was committed to the mission of the Benjamin Franklin Institute of Technology and had helped to build the school to the strong institution it is today, the gathering in memory of Blair was held at said Institute in Boston, Massachusetts.]

Blair, we miss you.  May you rest in peace.

Has it become acceptable in this society to "dis" Born Again Christians?

Since when is it okay to "dis" 'Born Again Christians'?  Can't touch Native Americans, Blacks, Asians, Jews, Catholics, Italians, Irish, but . . .

The most recent of many such occurrences was at a Mystery Book Club sponsored by a public library, when the leader of the group commented that a mystery writer of note had "accepted Jesus". Without hesitation, one of the participants in the group (rolling her eyes) exclaimed, "Oh, God!"   Her first time at the group, Marash Girl could only comment (resisting rolling her own eyes), "No, not God.  Jesus."

Happy Birthday, Deron!

You do, indeed, "Belong to the Lord!"

Deron with Grandma Jennie in the apple orchard at 474 Lowell Avenue, Newtonville

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.

Spring Is On Its Way!

                    Marash Girl's grandchildren are witness to the fact that Spring is on its way!
                                                         In Maryland, at least!

Remembering President Ronald Reagan and First Lady Nancy Reagan

Hearing the sad news of the passing of former First Lady Nancy Reagan brought to mind the long-ago visit that Marash Boy made to the White House, to meet with the then President of the United States, Ronald Reagan.

(For more on meeting President Reagan, see Marash Girl's blog post for Thursday, November 14, 2013, "Peter and Jennie Bilezikian, Calvin Coolidge, Ronald Reagan, John Travolta and Marash Girl".)

Licking the platter clean

It was not only Jack Sprat and his wife who valued food and what it offered to our lives.

Remember the daughter of Aunty, Aunty who had survived the genocide, Aunty who had survived hunger and thirst, Aunty who had struggled to make it in this country as an immigrant with nothing more than her wits . . . 

Aunty was rinsing out a can of Progresso soup to get the last tasty tidbit into the pot, and for that, was loudly criticized, laughed at, ridiculed by her daughter who was born here in the United States with all that the United States of America had to offer.

Remember Medzmama, using bread dough to wipe the bread dough batter from the sides of the kneading bowl, cleaning it so clean that it almost didn't need a wash.

Remember being punished for not finishing what was on your plate.  (Your eyes are bigger than your stomach).

We born here in the United States of parents who had jobs and income . . . we don't know what it is like to go hungry.

British Indian Troops Evacuation from Aintab, March 6, 1919

The following entry was written on Facebook by

Cesar Jacques Chekijian On June 3, 2016 at 9:35am

After the end of WW-I and the fall of the Ottomans, the photo below is of the British troops pulling out of Aintab on November 6, 1919. Most of the British soldiers were Indians, which was a Commonwealth of the British Empire. The British had over 600,000 Indian soldiers fighting for them in WW-I. Most of whom were in the Middle East, fighting against the Ottomans. Within days of the "British" abandoning Aintab, the French military replacement them on behalf the Allies, who had taken over Turkey since 1918. BY end of 1922, all the Allies pulled out of Turkey, and the last French military left Aintab with all the Armenians late in November 1922.

British Indian Troops Evacuation from Aintab, March 6, 1919

Marash Girl's maternal grandparents were from Aintab, but luckily they got out way before the genocide began . . . perhaps as early as 1900.  She remembers them telling her about leaving on a ship, and all of the Turks begging them not to leave, telling her grandparents how much they liked them and how much they wanted her grandparents to stay.  But her grandparents (Yester and Garabed Vartanian) were wiser, and left, to settle in Cambridge, Massachusetts, invest in a three-decker house (47 Vassal Lane) in which they lived (on the third floor) and rented out the other floors. Her grandfather set up shop in Harvard Square, on Mt Auburn Street, near St. Paul's Catholic Church. An immigrant success story . . . 

Here's Mud in Your Eye, Part II

Perhaps the expression, "Here's mud in your eye!" (scroll down to see yesterday's blog post) is an oblique reference to John 9:6 (NIV) where we read that Jesus spit on the ground, made some mud mixing His saliva with the soil, and placed the mud on the eyes of the blind man.   “Go,” Jesus told the blind man, “wash in the Pool of Siloam. So the man went and washed, and came home seeing."  Was it the soil (which in Marash Girl's experience has healing powers to the hands that work the soil), or was it the essence of Jesus (His saliva) mixed with the soil placed on the man's eyes that healed, or was it the blind man's faith that Jesus could heal, that Jesus could restore his sight, that gave sight to the blind man?

Here's Mud In Your Eye!

"Here's mud in your eye!"  So they used to toast in "the day".  Interesting that the mud is only in ONE eye!  On the surface, a toast -- good wishes, but what is it's real meaning? Back to Jesus time?  A wish for healing? A wish for true sight?

Castle in Marash!

Mountaintop Castle in Marash [Photo Courtesy of Facebook's Birzamanlar Marash)

Marash Girl wonder's how many times Peter climbed the mountain to wander through the castle walls with his friends back in the day . . .

Dr. Seuss: From Springfield, Massachusetts, to Wall Street, New York City

Yesterday, while Massachusetts was celebrating democracy by voting in the primary elections, the children in Day Care on Pine Street, (just around the corner from Wall Street) New York City, and children all across America were celebrating Dr. Seuss!

Democracy In Action

Yesterday, in Newton Corner, Massachusetts, residents made democracy happen.

      N.B.  Poll workers in Newton Corner thank Nancy Vela for doing the Dunkin' Donuts coffee run!

Photo Credit: Marash Girl

Hillary Clinton Campaigning Yesterday in Springfield, Massachusetts

Congressman Richard E. Neal (locally known as Richie Neal) (left) introduces Hillary Clinton (right) in Springfield, Massachusetts, yesterday morning.  

Photo by Karoun Charkoudian

THE ARTS AND CRAFTS MOVEMENT: MAKING IT IRISH: MCMULLEN MUSEUM OF ART, FEB. 6-JUNE 5, 2016

Whether or not you're Irish, whether or not you're an artist or art enthusiast, this exhibit is a must see!  The first of its kind, the exhibit entitled "THE ARTS AND CRAFTS MOVEMENT: MAKING IT IRISH" at the McMullen Museum of Art (Boston College), presents pieces never before on exhibit (in the United States or Ireland), pieces which include Wilhelmina Geddes's and Harry Clarke's stained glass panels which "evoke a Celtic and early Christian pst", handcrafted furniture and metalwork, textiles including carpets and wall hangings, and jewelry "replicating early medieval metalwork". The show extends from February 6 to June 5, 2016, from 11 AM to 4 PM weekdays, 12 noon to 5 PM on weekends, FEB. 6-JUNE 5, 2016.

A study in contrasts:  contemporary museum goer turns the back of her contemporary coat to the
beautiful hand made lace dress on display.

Marash Boy carefully reads the descriptions while Marash Girl takes photos.

Irish hand loom evokes memories of the family's carpet weaving for survival in Marash.

Aunty Armenouhi, Dennison, and Nisha's Bridal Shower

Planning for Nisha's shower (see blog for Monday, February 22, 2016), Marash Girl remembered Aunty Armenouhi Bablouzian.  Aunty Armenouhi, her father's first cousin, was an artist in her own right, and in the years that Marash Girl was growing up, Dennison Paper Company hired her to make umbrellas for bridal showers.  They were beautiful, and Marash Girl does not remember how she went about creating them, but Marash Girl was determined (and her determination won out ...  see photos on above mentioned blog) to recreate the joyous days of her youth attending bridal showers for all of her relatives.

Several months ago, after dropping Marash Boy off at the bus stop in Framingham, Marash Girl visited Michael's.  She walked in and asked (not really expecting an answer in the positive) if they had umbrellas for bridal showers . . . you, dear reader, already know the answer.  They did.  But what they did not have was a bridal shower umbrella filled with confetti to shower over the bride-to-be.  Marash Girl had to create that . . . she went up and down the aisles, looking for the ingredients -- confetti, tissue paper, and white ribbon --  and she found them.

Was she able to put together the bridal shower umbrella?  Not as elegantly as her Aunty Armenouhi had in years past, but elegantly enough to hide the rough spots UNDER the umbrella.

Marash Girl turned the umbrella upside down, attached a white ribbon long enough to reach from the inner apex to just below the handle of the umbrella.  She filled the umbrella's hollow with lots of confetti, and then covered the confetti with white tissue paper, taping the paper not too securely to the underside of the umbrella (securely enough so that the confetti would not fall out, but not so securely that when the bride pulled on the ribbon it could not tear through the tissue paper).  Luckily, nobody looked under the umbrella, and it was a beautiful symbol for showering the bride with good fortune.  And even more luckily, it worked.

To begin the festivities, the Maid of Honor held the white lace umbrella over the soon to be bride's head, the soon to be bride reached up and pulled on the white ribbon, and the confetti tumbled down over her, covering her with good wishes, good fortune, and all of our blessings for a wonderful marriage.

N.B.  Still finding pieces of confetti, even as far as the third floor, even weeks after the shower.  Marash Martha had suggested showering the bride with confetti on the front porch before the bride entered the house to save on the cleanup; however, the living room was the venue of choice. See the aftermath below.

Peas Porridge Hot

And another quick and easy recipe for you, that is, if you have a slow-cooker. (And who doesn't have at least three, two that they've given away!) . . .

Tired, bored, cold?  Grab that package of dried green split peas that you've had on your shelf for awhile, remove the peas from the package (no, this isn't one of those new-fangled packages inside of which you're supposed to cook the meal) and place peas in a strainer, rinse well (the strainer first, if it's been sitting around in the open, then the peas in the strainer) with cool (NOT HOT) water.   Toss the peas (not the strainer) into the crock that belongs to your crock pot, add whatever you happen to have around -- at the least, enough water to make the soup, some chicken or vegetable broth if you have any in the freezer . . .  Gather fresh vegetables: a good-sized onion (peeled), a clove a garlic (peeled), a carrot (peeled), a stick of celery with leaves, some fresh parsley,  a small potato (NOT peeled) . . . and now the trick.  Don't waste your time chopping.  Simply put the vegetables whole into the pot with the hot water/broth/split peas.  Add a bay leaf and simmer for 8 hours on low.  Just before serving, remove whole vegetables from broth and blend in your Cuisinart or whatever blender you happen to have on hand.  (Marash Girl got a new Cuisinart for Christmas, and she's always looking for excuses to use it!)  Add the blended vegetables to the pea soup.  Add salt, pepper, Marash red pepper.  (Aintab red pepper is no longer available in the Middle Eastern stores, thanks to ISIS!)  Stir and serve.  (If you want to fancy it up a bit, add a dollop of sour cream or unflavored yogurt to the top of each bowl of soup.) This soup gets better by the day . . . remember the old adage (credited to Mother Goose):  "Peas porridge hot; peas porridge cold; peas porridge in the pot, nine days old.  Some like it hot; some like it cold; some like it in the pot, nine days old!"

Quick and Easy Cucumber Bites

Try Karoun's quick and easy herbed cucumber bites.

To all natural whipped cream cheese add dill (dried or fresh and chopped fine), onion powder, garlic powder, and salt!

Use a small dollop on simple but elegant non-salted crackers, or better yet, on cucumber rounds.  Arrange rounds on an elegant serving dish or tray . . . 

A big hit at any party!

As tax season rolls around . . .

As tax season rolls around, Marash Boy cannot refrain from quoting his uncle, Karekin Charkoudian, who was an  Armenian from Marash, Turkey, an immigrant from the Ottoman Empire,  an Armenian American who never stopped appreciating the United States . .  the United States and what it meant --ultimately -- for him and his family:  freedom from fear, oppression, and possible death.  Whenever April 15 was nearing, Uncle Karekin would tell all who would listen, "Pay your taxes with a smile!"

As we in the United States gear up for the grueling task of gathering our documents in preparation for April 15 -- even if only to give those documents to a tax accountant -- Marash Girl's revision? "Prepare your taxes with a smile!"

Comment:  Easier said than done!

"I smell gold!"

Many summers ago, when Deron was in junior high school, he invited his friend Seth (who had grown up in the midwest) to visit for a weekend at the family's mountain retreat in Wilbraham, Massachusetts.  Accompanying the family down the mountain to buy fresh vegetables at the Merrick Farm, Seth commented, "I smell gold!"  All the family could smell was fresh turkey manure from the Bennett Turkey Farm, manure with which Llewelyn Merrick had just fertilized his crop.  "That," announced Seth, "is gold!  Without it, we'd have no crops!"

Seth, we miss your wisdom!

Smoking In Marash

Dr. George Charkoudian (cousin to Marash Boy on his father's side, cousin to Marash Girl on his mother's side) was a teenager in Springfield, Massachusetts, when, hoping to be allowed to begin smoking, he asked his father Karekin (born in Marash, fled Marash in the snowstorm of 1920), "Pa, when did you start smoking?"

His father's answer: "Smoking what?"

Under the Umbrella -- Nisha's Bridal Shower!

 

 

Keeping the Doctor Away . . .

Last week, Marash Girl could not keep the temperature in her house above 55 degrees fahrenheit, despite the fact that the thermostat had been set at 66 degrees for over 24 hours.  The temperature outside, Marash Girl must add, was 6 degrees below 0 (Fahrenheit), the wind was blowing . . . even through our thermopile windows.

Marash Girl was reminded of days of old, when her father Peter, during those very cold New England winters,  would answer the phone in the middle of the night . . .  We all knew what that meant!  He threw on his old clothes, and headed out the door.  The temperature was often 20 degrees below zero, and Peter had gotten a call:  "No heat!  And I have a little baby!"  He never hesitated. Out he went into the frigid night.

Marash Girl always prided herself on the fact that her father was more important than any doctor because, after all, keeping folks warm in the middle of winter was better than an apple a day!  It kept the doctor away!

Circassian Settlement, early 1900's

Bewohner = Inhabitants
der = of the
Tscherkessensiedlung = Circassian settlement
auf dem = on the
Kawak-Tepe [name of a place which means translated]
Pap[p]elhügel = Poplar hill

Kawak-tepe may be "Kavaktepe", a very small village in the province of Tunceli:
https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kavaktepe
(the article also gives the translation Pappel-Hügel)
https://tr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kavaktepe,_Mazgirt

because the only "Kawak tepe" Google shows is (or at least was) the name of a 2181 m mountain south of Kayseri.

Thanks to Helmut Thiess (Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Osteuropaabteilung) for the above.
Photo (undated) from Facebook's Bir Zamanlar Marash

Marriage is for Life

"A wedding is for a day; a marriage is for life."  Spoken by a friend from Kenya at the wedding of mutual friends.  I wonder if he meant that metaphorically . . .

Aferim, Aghchig!

Cuzin Toma (center left), Mihai Comanoiu (center right) and Teodor Corban (right) star in “Aferim!” (From A.O. Scott's Film Review in the New York Times, Friday, January 22, 2016)CrediMihai Chitu/Big World Pictures From the New York Times, Friday, January 22, 2016

"Aferim, aghchig!"  How many times had Marash Girl heard that phrase praising her, from the earliest of days, for something that she had accomplished well, or simply accomplished.  Was it ever a shock, then, when Marash Boy called to her attention the A. O. Scott's   film review (published in the New York Times, January 22, 2016) on the new film, Aferim, the Times article translating the term Aferim as 'ATTABOY'!  

For starters, Marash Girl is not a boy, and her elders often, if not always, offered the encouraging words, "Aferim!" words that translated, "Good job," or "Good for you!" or "Hey, well done!"

So there, New York Times!   Marash Girl writes for all the girls that accepted the praise "Aferim!" with joy, praise that to them and their Marash-born elders which meant, "Good job, Girl!"

Postcards from the Past: Marash 1918

 

1918 Maraş Ovası çiftçiler  İlk kez yayınlanıyor... 

Two postcards from Marash of "Lowland Farmers".  Can anyone make out the writing?  What language was it written in?  French?  Any other details? Would really appreciate your replies.                                      Thanks to Facebooks' Bir Zamanlar Marash image.

Dessert -- Light and Simple

Reminiscing yesterday evening, Marash Girl remembered a simple yet elegant dessert she used to make in the days that she and Marash Boy lived on Beacon Hill, an Armenian dessert Marash Boy remembered his mother making when he was growing up. . . a light sweet "soup", if you will!  Here it is. 

Soak overnight in the refrigerator: 1/2 cup of golden raisins in 2 cups of water to which has been added orange blossom water (available at Middle East grocery stores)  -- approximately a teaspoon of orange blossom water to a cup of water, test it out.  Add a handful of pine nuts just before serving.  (You don't want to soak the pine nuts.) Since Marash Girl has not made this in years, she cannot remember whether or not she added sugar to the water, so be creative when you're making this and taste test as you go. 

An elegant, cool, light, and unusual dessert to serve after what might have been a heavy meal.  Marash Girl tried to find this recipe elsewhere, but failed, so it may have originated with Marash Boy's mother who was born in Marash in the early 1900's.  Marash Girl's friend  (daughter of Armenian parents -- she grew up outside of Worcester, MA) remembers her mother making it as well. Any one out there ever tasted this dessert?

Remains of Roman Castle Wall in Marash

Remains of Roman Castle Wall -- Jenidjé-kalé on Baschkonusch (west of Marash beyond Djihân).
                           Photo undated.      (Photo Credit: Facebook's Birzamanlar Marash)

Happy Birthday, Lorig Djan!

36 West Cedar Street, Boston, Massachusetts:  

Lorig's First Home and formerly the home of Susan Paul 

In the 1830s, Susan Paul (1809-41) taught at the Smith School on Joy Street, a segregated school for African American children funded jointly by the city and private donations (see B7). Paul was also an officer in the Boston Female Anti-Slavery Society founded by Maria Weston Chapman in 1832. She was the daughter of Thomas Paul, the founder of the African Baptist Church, and supported her mother after his death. Some of her letters were printed in William Lloyd Garrison’s Liberator. In 1834 she wrote to condemn the “spirit which persecutes us on account of our color—that cruel prejudice which deprives us of every privilege whereby we might elevate ourselves—and then condemns us because we are not more refined and intelligent.”

" MOLLY SWEENEY" PERFORMED BY NEWTON NOMADIC THEATER

The Newton Nomadic Theater, a new theater company which is, by definition, "dedicated to producing simply staged, high quality theater in interesting and unconventional theater spaces in and around Newton," Massachusetts, carries the motto, "keep it simple, travel light, and move from place to place."

Yesterday evening, the Newton Nomadic Theater performed Brian Friel's "MOLLY SWEENEY", a two act play directed by Billy Melody, and starring Noni Lewis (Molly Sweeney) , Stephen Cooper (Mr. Rice), and Billy Melody (Frank Sweeney). The play, set in Ireland, was staged in a heavy Irish brogue. Presented in the living room of a private home in Waban, Massachusetts, MOLLY SWEENEY introduced us to a woman without physical sight, and to her husband and doctor, both sightless to the needs of Molly Sweeney.  Throughout the evening, Marash Girl could not help but remember growing up with her very own grandmother who (as did Molly Sweeney) became lind as an adult.  Née Yepros Kurtgusian in Marash, Turkey, she witnessed the murder of her parents in 1895 in Marash, and, (as a woman alone in Marash, with 4 children and a sister to protect,) braving World War I, the Armenian Genocide, and its aftermath, arrived in the United States only to brave another war, the war of braving the world around her without sight.

Grandma Yepros had had a raging fever which, according to the attending doctors, had no cure.  When the fever ceased, her eyesight was gone.  Her son Peter, as he told it, took her from doctor to doctor to find a cure, but the doctors said that the search for a cure was hopeless, as  Yepros's bout with the disease -- Marash Girl can't remember exactly what she had had -- had caused a raging fever, a fever which, according to the doctors, had burned and destroyed the nerves of the eye which allowed sight.

Peter remembered asking his mother how it felt to be blind.  She answered her son:  "I've lost my physical sight, but I've gained my spiritual sight,"  sight which brought her peace . . . peace with herself, her family, her God, and the world around her.

Share and Share Alike

"Share and Share Alike."  That is a precept with which Marash Girl is most familiar, as she grew up in a household of many.  And so it was not difficult for Marash Girl to share her recipes with folks who raved about her cooking . . . the only disappointing part was that when Marash Girl asked for a recipe from one of her ardent admirers -- a woman with whom she had shared many Marash Girl recipes -- the woman casually  replied, "Oh, I never share my recipes!"

All the Answers

Yesterday evening, Marash Girl was conversing with an artist friend, a friend she had met many years ago at an Armenian picnic at Camp Haiastan.  Reminiscing about his days in New York City as an artist, he apologized for his lack of humility in years past:  "In those days, I had all the answers and no questions!"

Her friend's apology reminded Marash Girl of her long ago conversation with Dr. Charles Stark Draper  during a political convention in Texas -- yes, the man who, according to the description on the internet,  'founded the Draper Labs in 1932  at M.I.T., a lab which developed aeronautical instrumentation, and came to be called the "MIT Instrumentation Laboratory".' Marash Girl had only one thing in common with Dr. Draper:  she had attended classes at Newton High School with his son, Jim.  That fact was enough to give her the courage to sit next to the eminent scientist, albeit on the back of a bus, traveling from one convention event to the next. On that bus ride, Marash Girl asked Dr. Draper (although today she doesn't remember exactly what she asked -- probably an embarrassingly  bungling "freshman" question like, "To what do you owe your success in life?" ), the question which he answered without hesitation.

"To my mother.  I was home schooled.  My mother taught me the most important lesson I could ever have learned --  she taught me the importance of asking the right questions."

New York Times: Crane Collapse in Lower Manhattan Kills One Person

"Crane Collapse in Lower Manhattan Kills One Person"  Headline, NY Times.

"Workers were trying to secure the crane amid high winds when it toppled onto 
Worth Street in TriBeCa shortly before 8:30 a.m. Friday, Mayor Bill de Blasio said." 

A sad day for that person and the family and all New Yorkers who like to walk the streets of Manhattan.

Cranes have always been fascinating for Marash Girl.  In fact, whenever she sees a crane, she walks along the sidewalk looking up.  The old advisory, "It's bad luck to walk under a ladder" should probably be revised to read, "It's bad luck to walk under a ladder or a crane," a crane being the contemporary world's equivalent of a ladder!  (The bad luck would certainly have doubled had a black cat crossed Marash Girl's path while she was looking up!) 

The New York Times article reminded Marash Girl of builder  Ernie Gralia’s warning:  "Never walk near (much less under) a crane if you can help it."  

Response of Lower Manhattan resident Deron to that warning:  "Somewhat difficult to do if you like to walk around Manhattan, as most New Yorkers do.  It's sad. I get upset with these stories about these accidents. And yet, it sounds like they were doing the right thing by trying to secure the crane." 

Farm Raised Salmon Painted Pink

Standing at the fish counter at Whole Foods, Marash Girl and Marash Boy surveyed the options.  Why not salmon for dinner tonight?  But there were two choices . . . One far less expensive than the other, though they looked alike.  What is the difference?  they asked.  The vendors explained that the less expensive salmon was farm raised and the more expensive salmon was caught wild.  He went on to explain that the farm-raised salmon (and, yes, there was a sign on the wall confirming this over to the left, well away from the salmon) that the farm raised salmon had color added! All natural color, so not to worry!

"What?  Farm raised salmon has color added to make it look like the wild salmon?"  

"Folks wouldn't buy salmon if it were white," he assured us.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is the "scripture reading" for the day!

Winter Storm Makes For Prize Photography

The Morning After the Storm                                         Photo by Nisha Charkoudian

Flowering in the Face of the Storm

  

                                   Do we have the courage to flower in the face of the storm?
                    Looking east at 10 AM Friday, Feb. 5, 2016, Newton Corner, Massachusetts

"The Morning After" Looking east at 7 AM Saturday, Feb. 6, 2016, Newton Corner, Massachusetts

A 21st Century Miracle!

A policeman pulls over a car in which he finds a member of the clergy.  "Reverend, have you been drinking?" asks the policeman.  

"Yes, but I’m just drinking water!" answers the reverend.  

"Isn’t that a bottle of wine beside you?"  replies the policeman.

"Oh, my God," intones the reverend. "Miracle of miracles. He’s done it again!"                                  With thanks to Gary Lind-Senanian

Bacon, Brussel Sprouts and Pecans!

 Brussel Sprouts with Bacon and Pecans

Last minute invitation to dinner yesterday (actually Marash Girl invited herself to dinner) found Marash Girl confronting a vegetable she had always thought she hated, but her friend changed that prejudice in a hurry.  How?  She combined brussel sprouts with Marash Girl's favorites: bacon and pecans. 

Here's how to do it.

Prepare bacon on stove top until crisp.  Pour off most of the bacon fat and with what's remaining, stir fry the (already trimmed, cleaned and rinsed) brussel sprouts with shelled pecans. (She was going to saute onions first in the bacon fat, but having no onions or scallions, she proceeded . . .)  Add white wine. Bring to a boil. Turn off heat. Place pan in oven and bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 15 minutes.  Remove pan from oven, add bacon bits, stir up, and serve.  Delicious (even if you hate brussel sprouts)!

Marash Martha's Blueberry Muffins

Marash Martha’s Home-Made Plump Blueberry Muffins

PREHEAT OVEN TO 425F, 

SPRAY OR GREASE A 12 CUP MUFFIN BAKING PAN.

INGREDIENTS TO THROW INTO MIXMASTER and whirl:

2 Cups All-Purpose Flour

1 Tbsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled

1 cup sugar

2 large eggs

1 cup buttermilk

1 Tbsp Vanilla extra

[optional - 1 cup finely chopped walnuts]

In a separate bowl sprinkle/coat 1.5 cups fresh blueberries with 1/2 cup flour.

By hand, gently fold the floured blueberries into the whirled ingredients of the mixmaster (after you've stopped the mixmaster from whirling!)

Preheat oven to 425F. Divide the batter into the 12 muffin cups and bake for 5 minutes at 

425F, then, keeping the muffins in the oven, reduce the heat to 375 F and bake for another 15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean.

Enjoy!

Note: Every time Marash Martha makes these, she remembers Mommy's muffins! The best!   Like mother, like daughter! Mommy taught us the trick of tossing the blueberries with a little flour (this keeps the blueberries from sinking to the bottom of the muffin)!! 

Esh Mart

The Marash event this past Sunday caused much reminiscing in the home of Marash Boy and Marash Girl. Marash Boy was remembering the expression used both by his Uncle Ed (who walked out of Marash during the famous snow storm) and his father-in-law Peter (who rode out of Marash on a "jackass", as Peter would love to put it, in 1920).  The two of them loved to use the word "eshmart".  Marash Girl always thought that they were calling some one "smart" imitating the "old country" accent, as they were wont to do on occasion.  But Marash Boy reminded Marash Girl that this was a play on words, a play on words that depended on one's knowledge of English and Armenian and the accented English spoken by Armenians from the old country.

So what does eshmart (or usmart) mean?  Well, for one, it means smart (with an Armenian accent). And if you know Armenian, and if you knew Peter and Ed, you would know that they were making fun of someone that everyone thought was smart, but that they knew was "esh mart", literally a "jackass man"!

Sheriff Peter Koutoujian Speaks at the Annual Commemoration of the Heroic Defense of Marash

Sheriff Peter Koutoujian holding is daughter at the annual commemoration of the Heroic Defense of Marash (1920)
Photo by Marash Girl

Honored guest Sheriff Peter Koutoujian spoke to over 200 people gathered in the hall of St. Stephen's Armenian Apostolic Church yesterday remembering the Marashtsis who died in the defense of their city, remembering his father Peter Koutoujian who passed away a year ago, and remembering his grandfather who immigrated to the United States from Marash early in the 20th Century.  Sheriff Koutoujian assured the audience:  "Today we are all Marashtsis.  We remember and mourn the losses of our ancestors during those terrible days . . ."

                                            Also in attendance were Marashtsi cousins

                    left to right:  Ara Demirjian and Levon Charkoudian . . . Photo by Marash Girl