Summer is indeed upon us: lemonade, anyone?

On Sunday, July 7, children in the Newton Corner neighborhood set up a lemonade stand to raise  

money which they will donate to support the work of Jane Goodall and the chimpanzees of the world.
                                                                                                               Photo by Marash Girl

Veggie Galaxy, Cambridge, Massachusetts

Marash Girl celebrates Independence Day with her children and grandchildren at Veggie Galaxy.

On Coney Island - "We don't want your kind here!"

Marash Girl decided that she wanted to help her friend out by taking her friend's two little boys for an adventure, and adventure it was.  Beginning at their home in their flat in  Puerto Rican Brooklyn, she took the two little brown boys on the subway to the Coney Island Ferry, over the ocean to Coney Island, and then down to the beach that was walking distance to the ferry.  [Marash Girl, at that time, had a deep tan, and very curly hair, thanks to the humidity.] The two little boys were so excited as we walked off the ferry and down to the water.  We were happily playing in the sand and the water when a woman approached us from behind:  'We don't want your kind here,' she stated in a frighteningly frigid tone of voice.

It was the first time that Marash Girl had personally experienced racism . . . but probably not the first or the last time for my playmates.  My heart broke for the little boys who, I hoped, had not heard the comment as they splashed and played in the Atlantic Ocean.

Have you ever experienced racism, dear reader?

I'VE NEVER FELT THIS WAY ABOUT A WOMAN BEFORE!

Living in New York City, having just graduated from Graduate School, Marash Girl was dutifully looking for a position nearby, a position where she could put her newly learned skills into practice.  Searching for a school system that might be need a Guidance Counselor, she tried to call the Yonkers Public School System, but whenever she made the phone call, she found herself in an 'hollow space'. a space that was hollow, but not empty; rather it was filled with voices of other folks who were trying to call Yonkers as well.
After several failed efforts to reach Yonkers, Marash Girl chatted with the other folks who were frustrated with their efforts to reach a phone number in Yonkers as well.  The newly formed 'group', as New Yorkers were wont to do, decided to meet up at the local Automat Restaurant . . . (not a washing machine and dryer spot, as one might think today).  As we had already gotten to know each other over the telephone, seeing one another face to face added a new and exciting dimension to the adventure. We continued to chat over the phone, and one young man decided he'd like to meet Marash Girl for a date.  They did so, the handsome young man and the lovely young Marash
Girl, and as often will happen, there was some electricity, and the young man bent over and kissed the young woman, exclaiming as he did so, "I've never felt this way about a woman before!"  Marash
Girl was thrilled, as she felt as if she had never met such a handsome young man before.  But wait she did for his call, and it never came. . . Whatever could be the reason?  Back to the telephone group with her problem.
The friend of the handsome young man was on the line when she called in to share her confusion.  He counseled her.
"But didn't you know?"
"Know what?" queried Marash Girl.
"He shares an apartment with his professor."
"So , , , " replied Marash Girl.
"Well, he shares a bedroom with his professor."
"So what?" queried Marash Girl.
"Well . . . . . . . he shares a bed with his professor, and if his professor ever finds out about this, the professor will kill him!"

N.B. My husband tells me I've already written this story in my blog, but it never hurts to write it again, right?  I mean, write?

Happy Independence Day!

Marash Girl is out celebrating the blessings that we all enjoy living in these United States of America!  How blessed we are . . .

HARVARD UNIVERSITY GRADUATION GUEST SPEAKER

 HARVARD UNIVERSITY GRADUATION GUEST SPEAKER DENIES ARMENIAN GENOCIDE .
WONDER IF HARVARD UNIVERSITY WOULD INVITE A HOLOCAUST DENIER TO THE PODIUM . . . 

But you're Armenian . . .

Leo T.....ian started a new job with a Jewish wholesale fruit company in Western New England, a company serving all of the restaurants in the area.  Leo was hired to be one of their sales   representatives. On Leo's  2nd day on the job, the owner, who was Jewish, gave Leo the combination to the safe as well as access to the company check book.  Leo asked, "But don't you want to check me out before you give me access to all your money?" The owner simply replied, "But you're Armenian!"

'END BUSINESS WITH CONCENTRATION CAMPS'

                                   "END BUSINESS WITH CONCENTRATION CAMPS"

                                            Photo by Marash Girl taken at Wayfair walkout 

on Wednesday, June 26, 2019, in Copley Square, Boston, Massachusetts

Trading at Lunchtime in Newton Corner, Massachusetts

Marash Girl would carefully package lamejun and veggies every weekday for the kiddies' lunch only to learn that they had traded their lamejun lunch with the odar children for sandwiches of peanut butter and jelly on white bread. . . . . Go figure . . .

N.B. Odar=Non-Armenian

Martha and the Red Square

When sister Martha was a young girl, she loved to paint.  One day, she presented our family with a painting of which she was so proud.  It was a large red square on a sheet of white paper.  The family smiled politely and went on with their conversation, never dreaming that years later, not Martha, but a famous artist would have painted a red square, a painting featured at an exhibit at the University of Connecticut!

SITTING IN UNION STATION . . .

Sitting in Union Station awaiting the train heading for Boston, Marash
Girl noticed that the woman sitting opposite was knitting, but she was knitting in a way that
Marash Girl had never seen before.  At the beginning of each row, she would add two stitches, and at the end of each row, she would delete two stitches, thus creating a scarf that slanted its way all the way to what would soon be the end of the scarf.  Marash Girl approached the woman to ask where she was from  . . . as it turned out, the woman was from Germany, and often made scarves in that way, scarves that would slant their way to completion . . . Would that life could be so easy. . .

GRANDPA GARABED AND MARTA MAE

HERKES SEVSING MARTA MAE
MARTA HERKES SEVSINGLER.

AS MARTHA ROCKED IN HER LITTLE HANDWOVEN WICKER ROCKING CHAIR, GRANDPA GARABED VARTANIAN, HER GREAT GRANDFATHER, WOULD ALWAYS SING THE ABOVE DITTY TO HER.

MARTHA, DO YOU REMEMBER . . . .

You're pretty, too . . .

What a beautiful little girl, said Mrs. Boulghourjian, as she looked at the little three-year old blond, blue-eyed Marashtsi child. . . 

Oh, and you're pretty too, dear, she said as her gaze turned to five-year old brown-haired, brown-eyed Marash Girl.

Inch ga, chiga

What's up, buttercup

Inch ga, chiga

Ne var, ne yokh

All of the above require a question mark at the end of the sentence, but my computer is misbehaving . . . or sick, hopefully not permanently . . . and will not allow me to place a question mark at the end of the above sentences which are all questions and, respectively, in English, Armenian, and Turkish. The interesting thing about the Turkish and Armenian sentences is that they give the responder the option to reply in the negative . . . the sentences translating, 'WHAT IS THERE, WHAT ISN'T THERE'

LOCKED IN A SECOND FLOOR BATHROOM WITH A TWO YEAR OLD

When Lorig was three years old, Marash Girl was actively interviewing survivors of the Armenian Genocide, recording their stories of survival for posterity . . . [those interviews are available at the Armenian Museum of America in Watertown, Massachusetts, as well as at the Library of Congress] . On with the memory --

Marash Girl often took one of her children with her, well behaved as they were, on the venture.  While interviewing an elderly Armenian woman in her second floor apartment in Watertown, Massachusetts, little Lorig had to use the bathroom, which she did, with aplomb.  Independent as she was, she carefully locked the bathroom door upon entering the bathroom, but . . . you've probably guessed the next sentence from the title of this blog  . . . when she was ready to leave the bathroom, she could not unlock that door. Unbeknownst to us, the woman we were visiting never locked the bathroom door because it could never be unlocked. . . Vaht to do . . .

We called the Watertown Fire Department, hoping that they could help, and even though the bathroom windows in that apartment were tiny, the wonderful Watertown, Massachusetts, Fire Department made it through, unlocked that bathroom door, and the rest is history . . . as recorded here . . .Thank you, Watertown Fire Department, and all emergency services that are out there to save us from certain disaster.

N.B. Marash Girl checked with Lorig yesterday, just to be certain that this memory was not a nightmare but a reality; she confirmed that it was a reality AND a nightmare.

CAMP HAIASTAN

Just returned from dropping my granddaughter off at Camp Haiastan . . . her Christmas and birthday present from her 'Ama'.  https://www.camphaiastan.org/

Beautiful grounds, beautiful people, a dream keep alive1

vote Lorig for d20 candidate

9/11 in Newtonville

I don’t want to forget to mention that on 9/11, my dad (who lived in Newtonville most of his adult life) went next door to his Muslim neighbors (the only Muslims living in Newtonville at the time) and sat with them throughout the day,  silently in their living room.  Just sat. No words.

Chocolate Chips and Herald Sulahian

One of the fondest childhood memories for Marash Girl was the visits made to our home by our cousins, the Sulahian family.  Why?  Aside from the fun, it was the chocolate chips.  Chocolate chips, you ask?  Yes!  Chocolate chips.  Because all of the kids in the family loved chocolate chips, Mother Jennie could not keep them in the house unless she placed them on the very top shelf of the kitchen cabinet.  That worked.  It worked, that is, until Marash Girl's cousin Herald visited.  Herald is very tall and he, too, loves chocolate chips, or did, way back then.  I wonder if he still does . . .

Happy Birthday, My Little Three Year Old Anoushig!