The group of eight racially mixed young adults were delighted to be able to cool off with a swim after a hot summer day working in our store. Our relationship with the staff was always cordial—a lot like family—and it was natural to offer them a chance to frolic at our lake-side cottage.

Part of their delight was in knowing we had “smuggled” them in our van to a territory outside of the city, which was involved in a federal court case at the time. There were no African-Americans in Commerce Township then, so this could have been an unwise move on our part.

When we bought our summer lakefront get-away in the winter of 1968, we did not know that several miles away a member of the Ku Klux Klan was a year ‘round resident; but it soon became an important factor in our decision to refrain from taking any chances when we invited our employees to the cottage for a nighttime swim and picnic.

Sandra, Gloria, and Veronica were prim and proper Catholic Creoles who attended parochial school; Roger was the adult Caucasian working as a full-time parts store manager; Maurice was Indian and African-American; his very refined cousin John was of that same mixture, plus pure German on his mother’s side; and “little brother” Larry rounded out the teen group.

The location of our party store was on Woodward Avenue near the southern tip of Pontiac, barely a 20-mile trip south to Detroit. Pontiac was embroiled in a cross-district busing controversy that ended up with a federal court decision that changed the city forever.

Because of its industrial nature, many people from the south had come north to Pontiac to work in its factories during the early 1940′s. The industrial city of about 80,000 where I grew up had fabulous schools that gave me an exceptional education. It was soon ordered to have cross-district busing to have more racially balanced schools.

That decision resulted in the nighttime bombing that destroyed 10 school buses and added fuel to the fire. Six members of the Klan were convicted and served prison terms. We discovered one was our nearby cottage neighbor.

An organization called the National Action Group was formed by a fiery 36-year-old Greek-American, Irene McCabe, who protested for the right of students to attend schools in their own neighborhoods, as they had for generations.

McCabe and her group started a march from Pontiac to Washington, D.C. to appeal to the government for support, but to no avail. Our store was on her route, and the athletic shoe-clad warmly dressed women were invited into our place of business for refreshments as a show of support.

This was the atmosphere then, when Bob and I decided to bite the bullet and load the kids up into the van and make the trek to the cottage as a treat to them. After all, they deserved it.

It was mainly the same group that spent Christmas Eve with us at an elaborate buffet. We always bought nice gifts for them, and although we protested, they did the same for us. By law, businesses selling spirits had to close at 9 p.m., and we were more than happy for this, as Christmas and Easter were the only days we closed all year.

The kids swam in the lake, and Bob took them out on a tour on the big green houseboat. Their laughter and voices echoed off the water. I could hear their happy voices even as I stayed behind to prepare the burgers and hot dogs for a very late nighttime picnic. There were no racial barriers here.

We knew these young people and their parents so very well. They were loyal and honest. Their parents considered it a privilege for us to employ them. They thanked us profusely and even had the local newspaper write an article about the people who owned Woodward Market and how they provided not only a job but an atmosphere where their children learned to use an electronic cash register, how to make change, how to dress and properly greet customers. This money helped pay for college.

There was a lot of joking and kidding around between Bob and our staff. After our two sons were born, I spent less time working in the store. I filled in as needed, with my parents being the only baby sitters. There was even a time Bob and I experimented with staying open until 2 in the morning with their assistance. (This attempt at a 17-hour workday was brief.)

John went to Michigan State and majored in public relations, always introducing us to his fellow students as “my parents.” He lives in San Francisco, and because of his close friendship with Bob and my strong ethnic influence on him, joined a Syriac Orthodox Church there. The three sisters married well and have grown children of their own. “Little Brother” owns a gas station. And Larry has an out of state new car dealership. I like to think the influence of working at our store helped in molding the character of these nighttime smuggled swimmers.

Maurice’s story was the only one with a sad ending. He was our first part-time employee. We had hired him at the age of 10 to fill the coolers, sweep and mop, and carry out the trash. He learned to swear in Turkish from my father, who after retiring had our store as a place of refuge. It was more like he owned the store and we worked for him. It was grand for all of us, especially my mother.

Maurice had a great opportunity after high school graduation to work at a coop program with General Motors, but it seems he picked up with the wrong crowd after we sold the store. He got hooked on drugs and was found dead of an overdose in a local motel. How bad Bob and I felt, almost like we had let the kid down. We had moved away and were very busy raising our own young sons.

Maurice was raised in a fatherless home, and lived with his mother and grandparents. His grandfather was known to drink a little too much, but they provided him with a nice home and guidance. What went wrong? I know this: His mother was so grateful to us for taking him under our wing, almost like our own kid. He was with us even before our sons were born. I have so many wonderful memories of him as well of the others, but Maurice was our “first.” Little Moe’s demise at such an early age still hurts.

When Kristapor Mikaelian, Simon Zavarian, and Stepan Zorian (Rosdom) formed the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) in 1890, they surely believed that there would be others to follow in their footsteps to maintain a vibrant democratic society for Armenians, and to lead the organization into the future. They were absolutely correct, and the beat goes on. These men of vision would not be disappointed in the ARF of the 21st century.

On Sat., Dec. 1, the Detroit ARF “Azadamard” Gomideh invited the community to a complimentary dinner and program featuring speaker Asbed Kotchikian, a professor at Boston’s Bentley University and editor of “The Armenian Review.”

Gomideh chairman Raffi Ourlian greeted the 125 guests with thanks for their unfailing support of the organization. Detroit remains a stronghold for the Tashnagtsutiun, he said, noticing the hamagirs and sympathizers who filled the room.

“What can be said of 122 years of existence,” he asked, proceeding to recount the ARF’s long dedication for a free and independent Armenia, which finally became a reality in 1991; its support for Nagorno-Karabagh’s freedom; and its opposition to the Turkish-Armenian protocols “from the beginning.”

Ourlian explained the ARF’s nation-building thusly with its umbrella organizations: “The Homenetmen teach our youth to elevate themselves; Hamazkayin are our cultural soldiers with its accomplished Arax dance troupe; the Armenian Relief Society supports worldwide charities; the Armenian Youth Federation is creating the future ARF leadership; and finally the church is for spiritual guidance.”

“I challenge those who oppose the ARF, asking what have you done for the Armenian nation?” he said.

Kotchikian asked the audience to think forward regarding the ARF’s role serving Armenia and the diaspora. He said that with Armenia’s independence, the nation must adapt to a fast-changing technological world; that we are challenged to think globally, to have a larger agenda. He repeated the fact that the ARF is an organization meant to serve both Armenia and its diaspora.

“Without a state [Armenia], the fact that in 2015 we will commemorate 100 years of the genocide and 125 years of the ARF’s existence will be less important. It’s the real tangible Armenia we have had in history and we are still struggling with the idea of independence. The ARF has a clear-cut ideology of equitable social justice important for a viable society.”

Kotchikian hit a high point when he stated, “A gap was created between Armenia and the diaspora when after the election several years ago the diaspora remained silent when there was violence, deaths, and imprisonments in the homeland.”

His intellectual background is represented by extensive travel to Iran, Lebanon, Syria, and the former Soviet States of Georgia, Latvia, and Russia. He lectures in political science, international relations, and politics in the Middle East, and has published numerous articles and books.

The ARF proudly counts many Ph.D.’s among its ranks. Therefore we can only hope for a continuation of this strength and leadership, tempered with wisdom and coupled with support from hamagirs.

Also participating in the event were Emily Movsesian singing the American and Armenian National Anthems, Shoghere Ourlian reciting “We Are Brothers,” and Sebouh Hatsakordzian.

The spirit of the ARF’s original founders was alive and well that day, represented by stalwart ARF members sprinkled throughout the Armenian Community Center, including but not limited to Greg Vartanian, Nishan Apigian, Narses Gedigian, Sebouh Sarkisian, Khatchig Kafavian, Jack Garbooshian, Armen Topouzian, Avetis Mishigian, Hayg and Georgi-Ann Oshagan, Shant Jamkotchian, Krista Tossounian, Ross Bagdasarian, Serop Ghazourian, and Hovagim Manoogian.

The ARF represents the land, the air, the essence of what Armenia is and will continue to be through the strength of its leadership and accountability to the diaspora and Armenia, seeking reparations, genocide recognition, and justice for our martyrs.

We will keep our place in the sun.

I was having a marathon phone conversation with Anne Krikorian when I was interrupted by my husband Bob: “I am going to the drug store. Do you need anything?”

Without thinking my reply was automatic. I sang out, “Bring me a surprise!” Anne was still on the phone and in hearing my response jokingly responded in like manner, “Bring me one too.”

As the youngest of four children in the Apigian family, and 10 years younger than my next eldest sibling, I was the fortunate one. They were children of the Depression and my father was responsible for the care and feeding of his wife, three children, and his mother-in-law, whom he took care of like his own mother. He went to the ends of the earth to provide for his family and did a heroic job of it.

My arrival into the world came at a slightly better time.

Hayrig had hoped that I, his fourth child, would be another boy. He was joined in this feeling by my brother Apraham, 14 years my senior. He was the first born and only male already dealing with two younger sisters. They were a close threesome.

Apraham’s wish for a brother was not to be. Serpouhie Nictar Charverdian Apigian (Betty Lou) was born at home on Prospect Street in Pontiac, Mich., at five in the morning, which accounts for my still-bad nightowl habits. My brother’s hopes for a brother were dashed, but he wished to confirm it on his own. When notified of my arrival he opened my diaper and, upon discovery of the tragic news that he had another sister, he just spit on me and left the room.

Handsome Abe with the green eyes and black hair has been eternally labeled by my parents as “Voski deghas” (my golden son), and this sentiment was more obvious with my mother. Male Armenian sons are deemed as a very special gift from above and get treated like princes. He served in the U.S. Army during World War II, was in the invasion of Normandy, and was later seriously injured in a bombing in Germany, earning a Purple Heart. He finally arrived home safe bearing schrapnel scars.

Upon his homecoming my parents said, “Heemah hankisd schoonch guh kashem“(I can now breathe a sigh of relief).

Apraham may have preferred a brother, but during his 60 years of life on earth he treated me with extra special love and care, indulging me on Christmas and my birthday even when his financial circumstance was not of the best degree. He accompanied the adult me and Hayrig to the Pontiac Retail Store to purchase my first new Pontiac convertible (and my dad said it had to be the red one).

I remained the little darling of my indulging father and whenever he went out to do shopping, I would call out, “Bring me back a surprise,” and he always did, often without my asking. Old habits die hard and consequently somehow the timing was perfect to repeat my favorite saying this day to Bob.

When I was quite young the surprises came in the form of a large pumpkin for Halloween, pomegranates in the fall, Santa Claus candles at Christmas, a badminton set, and a two-wheel bike.

The price and surprises got more expensive as I grew older. It was a portable Remington typewriter when I was in highschool, a record player for my bedroom, and a bookcase for the Armenian-themed books he always purchased for me. I still have the lavender leather purse he purchased for me to match the knit suit and heels I absolutely had to have, even though I was then working at GM.

A trip to downtown brought back doughnuts and muffins from Tasty Bakery, and when it was time for shoes, no less than two pairs were purchased at one time from the stylish Arthur’s Women’s Apparel store.

My dad, Mamigon, was just that kind of father, but all this came with a warning label, that a certain behavior was expected at all times: No spoiled brat syndrome would be tolerated. All he had to do was give us “the look.”

My mother, Takouhie, made sure I helped her with the house work and sometimes the baking. When she launched into the tedious time-consuming task of making mante, I had the job of pinching off pieces of hamburger to place on the center of the dough squares and bringing the ends together, so that each morsel resembled a tiny canoe. I then placed them into the buttered baking pan shoulder to shoulder with her eagle eye approval of the whole process.

She was a demanding taskmaster and her words still ring in my ears, “Meesuh pavehtsour” (Make sure you distribute the meat so that there is enough for all the dough). There always was enough. Her exacting habits rubbed off on me. Among the many recipes she dictated to me was the one for mante. Recently I pulled it out of my recipe box and realized how yellow it had gotten over the many years. I have a deep appreciation for her teaching me so well. I hear her voice like it was just yesterday.

Christmas shopping with my father was a regular expedition. He and I would travel the 20-plus miles to Detroit’s Eastern Market to Mourad Grocery where his Tashnag ungers, Aram and Mourad, had all the Armenian necessities of lamb, bulgur, pistachios, cheeses, and the other goodies to celebrate the holiday.

Then we would go out into the mammoth open-air market for fruits and vegetables, Dad always bought in huge quantities because he believed in being prepared to entertain relatives and extended family. He was generous to a fault. The term hunter/gather perfectly describes my father.

With our now-frozen feet we would stop at the outdoor vendor’s stand and purchase hotdogs and coffee to relish inside the warmth of his red Studebaker truck. The truck had the fragrance of cheese and basterma, but the last stop was to be at Victor Bakery in Highland Park for freshly baked pita.

The Apigians ate well, and company always sat down to a table full of food. One person said our house was like Grand Central Station, a compliment of sorts. When you lose your parents and sisters to a genocide like my father did in Dzermag, Keghi, perhaps you value the closeness of survivor cousins and khnamees (in-laws).

Dad’s sterling character, love, and respect of the Armenian community was visible at the fedayee funeral bestowed upon him with several hundred people attending. It was unforgettable. He was my prince, and sometime there is a tendency to exaggerate a person’s qualities when they die, but I assure you my Hayrig deserves respect as my knight in shining armor.

Just ask Bob. He will tell you, “No one can live up to Betty’s opinion of her father. She will even tell you when Mac (Mamigon) got older he was still better looking walking his daughters down the aisle then any of his three sons-in-law, and she has the photos to prove it.”

A daughter’s love for a father is not to be questioned. I have many wonderful memories of dad as my teacher, guardian, and role model, and I am here writing this column to honor my Hayrig (and that is no surprise at all). He was an exceptional husband, parent, friend, and a true Tashnag. I love you, Hayrig.

It’s not the big house on the hill. It’s the modest house on the last street in Bloomfield Township, with cedar roping around the front door. It is the red brick house with the mailbox at the curb covered with holiday greens and two big red bells that shout: We celebrate this Christian holiday with gusto. The boxwood hedge along the brick paver walk, too, is covered with miniature white lights.

Nightfall comes early this time of year, and the front door looks like a Christmas card with a spotlight showing all who pass the beautiful green wreath with a red velvet bow, its long strands flying in the wind. It is set against the darker red of the front door with an Armenian-style metal cross positioned in the middle. Even so, every spring the Seventh Day Adventists insist on paying us a visit with their literature.

It’s the house that also has a live wreath on the unpainted privacy fence door alongside the driveway that has faded into the perfect shade of gray I have waited for. I am old-fashioned about Christmas and have always wanted a faded red barn in the country to decorate. It is through this door that guests enter when we are entertaining, avoiding the steps leading to the front door. We are informal and casual.

When they push open the wooden gate they are greeted by a white wrought iron bench with matching tables on each side covered with fragrant fresh evergreen boughs centered with red cardinals. Two pots of flowering white kale are in full bloom on the pie rack with a grape vine wreath surrounded by fresh greens. The cherub statue sits atop the rack throughout the year.

Everything outside shows signs of Christmas, except the gas barbeque. I have spared its dignity since it may yet get pressed into service. Even the snow shovel has a red ribbon tied on it. The artificial tree with blue and white lights on the sun porch is the first indication company will be witnessing a house that is lit up to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.

A green, silver, and red glass ornament wreath is on the wood roll-up shade on the kitchen window. The cabinet tops have a garland festooned with stars lit in different colors. Between them boldly stand nutcracker soldiers, and little green trees sparkle away. It takes some doing for this decorating but so far the man of the house safely teeters on a short ladder to satisfy his fussy wife, the perfectionist, still laid up with a sore ankle.

The dining room table is set with a red cloth and special Lenox cream-colored, holiday-themed dinner plates bearing cardinals and ringed with red ribbon. The stemware is 60-year-old burgundy crinkle goblets given to my parents on their 30^th wedding anniversary. A red ice bucket sits at the ready. Gold tone flatware completes the setting. The ends of the tablecloth are tied into rosettes. The chairs are dressed with cream-colored covers and bows. It is pleasing to the eye.

Christmas has always been a big deal at our house, and even though the nest is empty our spirit glows with excitement as Thanksgiving arrives and heralds the day a local radio station begins playing Christmas carols all day long until the New Year. “Oh, Holy Night” rings out in exaltation.

The man of the house has been asked to bring down everything from the attic, and he does so, bearing eight large plastic containers full of Christmas decorations collected over the years. Each one is like a lifelong friend.

My 30-year collection of stuffed animals that Pier I sold only at holiday time includes camels big and small, elephants, polar bears, and a tiger. My “Frosty the Snowman” cookie jar is filled and placed on the kitchen table. A windup mechanical Noah’s Ark with moving parts was a rare find and a special reminder of my Armenian heritage. It plays “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” A manger scene is placed under the live Frazier Fir that fills the house with fragrance. An ages old musical windup doll and clown sit on top of my father’s desk.

Garlands with tiny lights are strewn over the wine cabinet, mantle, china closet, and the bathroom mirror. I have yet to go through all the containers to look for our red and white Santa hats. You just have to have everything that says “Christmas.” Green velvet pillows centered with a small tree sits at each end of the sofa. Now you have a picture of our Christmas house.

Is the tourshi and roejik ready yet? How about cheese, olives, and aboughd? Fill the bowls with pistachios, lablaboo, raisins, and nuts. Now we just have to wait for the knocks at the door to share the joy of the season with people who mean so much to us. It has been a lifelong success of collecting rewarding relationships.

All this is very nice and will remain until January 6^th, Armenian Christmas, but it is the guests that arrive to share good food, drink, and conversation that fill our hearts and hearth with the Holiday Spirit that completes the effort. Nothing makes me happier than entertaining and filling the table with as much traditional Armenian food as possible.

I am nothing if not steeped in tradition foisted upon me by my upbringing, for which I am eternally grateful. My parents loved opening their home to guests.

For many of us it is a special time of year. For some it can be a sad time with the reminder of loved ones lost or families fractured by disagreements. Somehow life goes on. I comfort friends who miss their parents, crying as they proudly roll sarma according to their mother’s recipe, because for them tradition is important too.

Although we expect nothing, to our surprise gift boxes appear on our doorstep via UPS bearing luscious pears from Oregon, enough deluxe nut assortments to suffice much entertaining, a coveted fruit cake, and gift cards. We are on an abundant overload much to our thankful surprise.

What? Not a poinsettia in sight? I’ll take care of that today. “Bob, we have to go shopping!”

Come see Christmas at the Kessels for yourselves. Just give me a phone call and I will have the coffee ready. Admission to this party is free; just bring a happy disposition. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!

It was with shock and sadness that those of us who knew and loved Helen Pompeian received news of her passing so close to Christmas.

The news of her death prompted me to reach into my desk for a silver coin of Queen Zabel and King Hetoum (1226-70 A.D.) standing side by side, sent to me by coin collector Gary Setian. For some reason, that ancient queen reminded me of Helen, regal and lovely.

She was born Helen Nazarian on Feb. 25, 1925 in Pontiac, Mich., and went through that city’s school system with other children born to survivors of the Armenian Genocide. She grew up in a close-knit neighborhood made up of many Armenian families who always spoke their native language at home. In our frequent phone conversations, she absolutely delighted in speaking Armenian and would exclaim, “I love it when you speak Armenian with me.”

She married Edward Pompeian in 1945 and together they had daughter Sharon and son Edward.

She was one of the charter members of the Pontiac “Ani” Chapter of the Armenian Relief Society (ARS), until her permanent move to Rochester, Minn.

This move in 1972 was prompted following local medical misdiagnoses of her teen son Edward, whose health was not improving. Helen was advised by neighborhood friend Dr. Jack Kevorkian to take the youngster to the Mayo Clinic, a decision she never regretted.

There she eventually became a kidney donor to her son; in a past interview, she said to me, “I thank God and the hands of the doctors of the Mayo Clinic. With His help they saved Edward’s life.”

It was because of this experience that Edward Pompeian, now a successful businessman, decided to start the first-ever facility to house transplant patients, giving them a place where they can share their experiences of a life-threatening disease and the recuperation following transplant. That was the beginning of Gift of Life Transplant House (on whose board Edward sits), which has grown to impressive proportions and served as a model for others around the world.

No mother could be prouder than Helen was of her son and his wanting to give back, through a magnanimous gesture, inexpensive housing for those who otherwise could not afford regular accommodations while under treatment.

Helen’s book Gifts of Love and Life describes everything she and her family went through during Edward’s illness.

She became a leader in fundraising for the National Kidney Foundation. One of her most successful endeavors was an accepted invitation by actor Mike Connors, or Krikor Ohanian of “Mannix” fame, to be a guest speaker at a major fundraiser (where, as she fondly recalled, he was seated next to her).

“I was deeply impressed with Mike’s heartfelt interest in Armenian history and his acute knowledge of the Armenian massacres. His grandfather had been a victim of those terrible days,” she once said.

While in Pontiac, she worked in sales at the upscale Arthur’s Women’s Apparel shop. Her warm, outgoing personality, coupled with her keen fashion sense, made her a sought-after sales expert.

One of our mutual joys was the fact that Helen, General Antranik, Sonny Gavoor, and I all shared the same birthday.

Even through the advancing years, Helen remained a very attractive, shapely blond still wearing those wonderful three -inch heels and putting the rest of us to shame.

On one of her visits to our area to lunch with a group of old friends, she still sparkled and took over the room with her vivacious laughter and story telling. She had charm galore. Those qualities must have helped in getting her through life’s difficulties, which she faced with strength and bravery.

In Minnesota, she joined the Armenian Cultural Organization. She loved to entertain and, while doing so, showcased her expertise in cooking traditional Armenian food specialties.

She was always surrounded by a supportive family who realized what a remarkable, nurturing woman she was.

Edward and wife Jayne presented Helen with four loving grandchildren, Edward, Aaron, Nicholas, and Adrienne.

Daughter Sharon, a registered nurse, and Michael Maraian presented Helen with her other grandson, Paul, who became an attorney and major with the Air Force serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. Helen was elated when Paul married Arous, presenting Helen with great-granddaughter Araxie Helen, her namesake and, according to Helen, an extremely intelligent toddler.

Helen worked as a secretary in her son’s real estate firm and later as an administrative assistant at the Gift of Life Transplant House, where she spent hours consoling patients and their parents, and offering an understanding heart to them during a time of great concern. She was perfect for the role.

Her notes to me were frequent, her penmanship exquisite. She was so appreciative of the columns I wrote in the Armenian Weekly about her son’s illness, and about her, the nurturing mother who saw her family through life’s problems. She was an angel on earth, and now she will fittingly be among God’s angels. That extra bright star you see shining will be our Helen.

She will be missed very much.

Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian is widely known as a prolific writer, scholar, lecturer, teacher, and exceptional minister of the Lord in his duties as a clergyman in the Armenian Congregational Church. How did he come to be the venerated man of the cloth who we all love and respect?

One day the postman arrived at my house with a huge box containing 30 books that Rev. Dr. Tootikian had written over the many years of his ministry. Just after the first of this year, one more book arrived titled Keeping the Balance. Who could share the benefits of keeping the balance better than the author? That makes 35 authored books. Rev. Dr. Tootikian is revered by every element of the Metro Detroit Armenian and American community, and is known worldwide as a true humanitarian. He delivers the word of God because he lives it.

“There ought to be a fair balance between one’s faith and one’s good works, for without faith a person’s good works are futile, and without good works one’s faith is dead,” he writes.

I am privileged to have read the many tributes paid to him in a testimonial banquet book in celebration of the 40th anniversary of his pastoral and public service, as well as at another event that honored and marked his retirement on Sept. 25, 2005.

His story begins in Ekiz-Olouk near his beloved Kessab, Syria, one of four sons born to Hagop and Keghanoush Tootikian. Rev. Dr. Tootikian says of them, “They were simple, good people whose dignity showed us how life should be lived through example of integrity, love, and faith.”

A graduate of the Near East School of Theology, Rev. Tootikian completed his graduate work at Hartford, Harvard, and Newton Theological seminaries, earning two masters and a doctorate.

He was happily married for over 25 years to the late Juliette (Nazarian) Tootikian, and together had three beautiful daughters. In 1991, on June 22, a date suggested by his mother because it also was his birthday, Rev. Dr. Tootikian married the beautiful Californian Rosette Pambakian, who as his life partner submersed herself in everything affiliated in his ministry.

Rosette Tootikian possesses an endearing, warm personality. She is an accomplished woman in her own right. She left a successful 28-year career with Pan Am Airlines beginning in ticket sales at a very young age to become the Yeretsgin of the Armenian Congregational Church in Southfield, Mich., offering unselfish support to her husband’s life and ministry.

During her airline career, she traveled extensively, first-class, and around the world, enjoying the lifestyle and culture of many different people. It was excellent preparation for her future life in Detroit.

She admitted to her then-future husband that although she had helped her mother in the kitchen cooking, she never actually considered herself well versed in that area. He asked, “Are you willing to learn?” She now can honestly say “Yes” to that question, having become a helpmate to her church’s ladies’ guild when preparing food for banquets and family nights. She is involved!

I observed his popularity when I recently attended a Kessab picnic in Cambridge, Ontario. I noticed a throng of people happily surrounding someone with hugs and handshakes. Upon closer observation, I discovered it was my good friend Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian. The people loved their fellow Kessabtsi and were unabashedly showing their respect.

Rev. Dr. Tootikian is now the Minister Emeritus of the Armenian Congregational Church of Greater Detroit after a service of 30 years. He and Yeretsgin (Pampeesh) Rosette travel across America, Canada, and other countries in his duties as the executive director of the Armenian Evangelical World Council.

Along with his ecclesiastical involvement, Rev. Dr. Tootikian has been a lecturer at Lawrence Technological University and the University of Michigan. He was elected moderator of the Armenian Evangelical Union of North America four times, and served as secretary and president of the Armenian Evangelical World Council.

The letters of congratulation and thanks for his service to God and community come from United States presidents, senators, governors, other noted luminaries and people who have had the honor of his friendship. He maintains a remarkable relationship with his fellow Detroit Der Hayrs, brothers in the service of the Lord believing all are closely connected to the Mother Armenian Church.

Through his faith and humility, he has garnered the admiration of all who have come to know him. Detroit has been most fortunate to have Rev. Dr. Tootikian in our midst. Our best wishes are extended to him and the lovely Yeretsgin Rosette for many more years as valued community members.

His recent book, Keeping the Balance, can be purchased by writing to the Armenian Heritage Committee, 3925 Yorba Linda Blvd., Royal Oak, MI 48073-6455.

I yawned as I placed the house phone back on its stand, and wondered just how long I had been talking. I flipped open the cell phone to check the time. My eyes did not believe the proof of my outrageous behavior. Had I broken my mother-in-law’s record of time logged in a single phone call?

It was 3:30 a.m. when I finally crawled into bed on one of the coldest January nights of the year. The weather really did not have anything to do with the length of my conversation. It was post-holiday, and we had a lot of catching up to do.

I made no bones about my late arrival into the marital bed, as I loudly whispered, “Bob, are you awake?”

Why should he be? When I get late-night phone calls (accepted from only a select few), he bids me farewell as he heads for bed, knowing it will be a conversation of some duration.

I remember as a child spending a few days visiting relatives in Brantford, Ontario, and touring the home of Alexander Graham Bell, the inventor of the telephone. The importance of his device had no impact on me at that age, but our thanks go to that Canadian genius (probably not as well known as being from Brantford as ex-NHL hockey star Wayne Gretsky is).

“I can’t believe I was on the phone for four hours. Are you sure it was 11:30 p.m. when she called?” I added additional verbiage: “And the phone battery held up all that time, too.” I encased myself around the comforter trying to create a nest where I would be cozy and warm, anticipating a late arising time.

Perhaps I have a selfish streak, but I prefer to think I like to share most aspects of my life with my husband, even though, yes, it meant waking him up at an unholy hour to tell of my late-night indulgence. He patiently said, “Well, I still don’t think you broke my mother’s record for lengthy conversations.”

My husband’s mother, Marguerite Anne Kessel (nee Lawler), was pure Irish, the granddaughter of immigrants straight from the old sod, and very Catholic. She came from a family of eight children born and bred in Saginaw, Mich., and all attended parochial schools. Sunday mass and holy days were vigilantly observed.

She married Bertram Kessel, a pure German Lutheran, who also came from a large family, of seven children. He converted for his wife’s sake and together they faithfully attended mass, and raised their one and only child, my husband, who claims he was not spoiled. I think meeting me fixed that. My mother lured him with cold beer and her delicious cheese boeregs.

Soon after marriage Bert and Marguerite moved to Pontiac. He was the chief metallurgist for Oakland Car (later the Pontiac Motor Division) and he was transferred to head up engine manufacturing.

It was said he was so expert at his job that all he had to do was observe the color of the smoke belching from the cupolas as he drove into work to know instantly what mix of metals were needed for the correction.

Perhaps it is the fact the Irish are from an island or that they had not seen my traveling companion for a long time, but on my visit to Ireland years ago, I discovered how long-winded the Irish can be, lilting accent and all.

I am first generation Armenian-American, and am quite used to commotion and talk at family gatherings. We are not a silent people. We have a lot to say.

The visit to the Emerald Isle was to be to my benefit. It honed my listening skills that, to this day, I put to good use. For the first time in my life, I found I had a difficult time making my way into a conversation. Could that be because they were stimulated by the free flow of Guinness and other spirits?

Marguerite Anne Kessel was no exception. Barely 5’ tall and tiny ,she was known to spend most of her free time after household chores and spent hours on the telephone, a chronic condition she maintained until her death at an advanced age.

Perhaps the talking was a result of her once being a telephone operator, or because in a large family you had to speak up to be heard, especially at the dinner table. “Please pass the corned beef and cabbage!”

She is also the one I blame for giving me the wrong ingredients for what her son says was the best lemon meringue pie he ever tasted. I have overlooked that one in the belief that a husband should have something left of his mom’s cooking that a wife cannot duplicate.

Bert Kessel passed away much too young, at age 58, a week before his son and I wed. Marguerite lost her husband, and to an extent her son, in a short span of time, but she had many friends—and the telephone became even more of a lifeline for her. The phone kept the spark of life lit within her to carry on as a widow. It was a coping mechanism.

I once continually tried to reach her by phone for over four hours. I abandoned that exercise in futility, called Western Union, and had a message delivered to her by telegram. In it I stated I was trying to contact her for baby-sitting duties. She was still on the phone when Western Union knocked on her door to deliver my telegram.

She got a good laugh out of that, and to this day her son accuses me of trying to outdo his mother. She remains the champion. It is episodes like this one that remain sweet to retell even after they leave life on earth.

That is why I believe that people should be nice, be thoughtful and polite to one another. Age catches up on all of us. Friends pass away. Kindness and loyalty never go out of style. Being alone can be very lonely, and the telephone is a remedy for that. Do not take friends for granted. Make time for them and thank Bell for the invention to stay connected.

I want Marguerite the Irish lass to know her talent is not being wasted. Her daughter-in-law carries on the Kessel telephone tradition to the best of her ability. I bet she still feels pretty smug about the fact that I cannot bake a great lemon meringue pie like she did, but then she did not know how to make a flaky cheese boereg either. The in-law wars rage on.

“Are you on the way, and if so how closeby are you?” my voice anxiously rang out on the cell phone.

My guest replied, “We are at Orchard Lake Rd. and Woodward Ave. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Even after all these years of entertaining, I still get last-minute jitters because I want everything to, in my estimation, be perfect.

What I was serving for Valentine’s Day dinner was to be a surprise for my fellow Keghetsi friend and her husband, who themselves are pros at preparing Armenian cuisine. She and I frequently press our husbands into service to shop for and help prepare the intricate recipes, which bring us great joy in preparing. Tradition means a lot to us.

Now it was time to pour the warm buttery, garlic flavored tahn into the pitcher. It was the last item needed on the dining table just before they arrived. The Izmir kuftas laden with cumin sauce, asparagus, pickled beets, and salad were already on the dining table. Cannolis, cream puffs, and eclairs purchased from the Eastside Italian bakery were waiting in the refrigerator for dessert.

Candles were lit, red and pink carnations filled a large vase, heart-shaped lights floated across the fireplace mantle, and an artificial tree stood on the sun porch. Large red and pink doilies served as place mats beneath antique floral pink chintz dinner plates. The romantic scene was set for a lovely dining experience. Red wine was poured into stemware bearing a heart-shaped design.

For the first time I had everything on the table before my guests arrived and I was pleased, for this was to be the surprise of all surprises. I was serving Keghetsi souroun. It was cut into serving pieces and laden onto the large platter covered with foil to remain warm.

My guests arrived and were seated as I removed the foil revealing the lovingly repared souroun. Spell it however you wish—siroun, seroun, or souroun—it doesn’t matter. It is just plain mouth-watering with warm tahn drizzled on top. My guests’ eyes widened with absolute delight. “I haven’t had this in years. I think I had it here a long time ago. Thank you so much.”

As I was preparing the 14 sheets of lavash hatz, I glanced at the framed picture on the kitchen wall of old country women seated on the ground at a tonir ( in-ground fireplace) baking piles of lavash hatz, an Armenian staple. It was a labor of love, and it helped that several generations of Armenian women lived under one roof and could help in the labor intensive-task of baking this very thin round bread.

Once the dough was ready and divided into koontz (balls) one woman would roll them open into circles and another would bake it lightly on the tonir flipping it over to do both sides. The pile would grow higher and the lavash would be enjoyed by the family in different ways. One was to make souroun, a very filling main entree. I doubt if they needed anything to accompany it besides tourshee.

My job was easier. I sat at the kitchen table with the round baking pan, a sauce pan of very warm butter, and another of tahn. Each sheet of lavash was placed in the pan, brushed with warm butter, the next with tahn in the same alternate manner, until using up the 14 sheets.

I cut the souroun into squares and it was oven ready. The house was soon filled with the delicious aroma of a mélange of butter and garlicy tahn. Mmm, mmm.

Souroun is certainly not something eaten more than once or twice a year, but the effort is worth it, for the sake of preserving tradition and enjoying its delicious flavor.

How great it is to be Armenian and to take part in what our parents enjoyed in their village. We miss that generation so much, and understand all of the effort our mothers made to keep tradition alive, knowing full well the Turks intended to put an end to Armenians and anything connected to the Armenian way of life.

That is part of the joy for me in preparing these timeless recipes. I can feel the spirit of my paternal Dzermag, Keghetsi grandmother Serpouhie, my namesake, hovering over me in my kitchen as she guides me in my cooking. She was slaughtered in 1915 by the Turks. I never saw her. I never knew her. I have no photos of her.

It was the most magnificent moment in my life several years ago when I was face to face with a Turkish ambassador in Birmingham’s Townsend Hotel. In response to him saying, “Well, the fact is you [Armenians] lost and we won,” I surprised even myself when I had the presence of mind to immediately respond, “No, we have not lost, we are still fighting.”

The memory of the genocide is constant. It is monumental that our parents somehow survived and arrived to this country. What is difficult to do in succeeding generations is to maintain our culture, traditions, and the Armenian Badarak. Every book written, each Ph.D. accomplished in Armenian studies, every organization dedicated to keeping the Armenian spirit alive, is perpetuating the Armenian spirit.

My writing about pagharch or souroun, my geragours and boeregs are a tribute to my Keghetsi grandmother who died as a brave Armenian woman. I fete her and I bow my head down to her and every Armenian who experienced the evil sword of the Turks.

My Valentine’s Day dinner was a success. That was important. What was more important, though, is that the main course of the day was an ancient recipe, a food prepared and eaten by Hyes, and in my own imposed way I am keeping tradition alive.

I wait for justice and for our martyrs to find peace. Then perhaps Armenians can draw a comfortable deep breath of thanks.

My grandmother Serpouhie guides me all along the way of my life’s journey. I cannot wait until I greet her in heaven and ask if I met with her approval.

I was a guest at the 2010 Vanetzi social evening, where I had a brief encounter with an unfamiliar face across the room. Who was that tall not traditionally Armenian-looking woman? Fortunately I was soon introduced to Vanetzi Cynthia Reimers Erickson, who grew up on a farm near Wimbledon, N.D., but now resides in Roseville, Minn. She may not have looked Armenian but she proudly bears her Armenian blood as surely, if not more so, than most 100-percent Hyes.

She is the kind of person you quickly label with the words noble, humanitarian, exemplary, making a difference.

When we say “diasporan,” the shoe really fits for Reimers-Erickson. Her Armenian Genocide survivor grandparents married in Cuba, then settled in North Dakota, where her mother, Viola Satenig Abrahamian, was born, then wed to Lawrence Reimers.

Erickson was strongly influenced by her grandmother Khashkhatoun (Bargamian) Abrahamian from Palu. Her grandfather Melkon was from Van. She fondly remembers her grandmother as a sweet, gentle, and kind woman who taught her how to knit and crochet, who cooked without measuring ingredients. “I think grandma was the one who made me want to visit Armenia one day,” she says.

Grandma Abrahamian would certainly be proud to know her granddaughter is planning another return trip to the villages of Armenia with her team of volunteers to build houses for poor Armenians still living in sub-standard housing since the 1988 earthquake and collapse of the Soviet Union. “It is always a delight for me to introduce Armenia to others and to help them experience the unmatched hospitality of Armenia and its people.”

Erickson is a medical technologist and for over 30 years has belonged to the Armenian Cultural Organization (ACOM) of St. Paul, Minn., where she is also a member of the folk dance group known as the Armenian Dance Ensemble of Minnesota. They’ve performed at St. Paul’s Festival of Nations and other events, spreading the word about Armenian culture.

Her almost annual trips—since 2004—to Armenia began when she met Peace Crop Armenia worker Kristi Rendahl; both had joined the Fuller Center for Housing, founded by Millard Fuller offering interest free loans.

Through volunteer work and donations of both money and materials, the Fuller Center builds and rehabilitates houses with the help of homeowners. The homes are sold to partner families at no profit, and are financed with affordable, no-interest loans. The homeowners’ monthly mortgage payments are used to build more Fuller Center homes. Homeowners invest hundreds of hours of their own labor, sweat equity, into building their home. It’s a win-win.

The woman with a huge heart says, “I have plenty of room on my team for people interested in volunteering and traveling the back roads, not just the tourist sites, so that the fabric of Armenian society is strengthened. It’s a way to make a difference in the lives of hard-working, poor Armenians.”

“Having a healthy stable environment gives the families self-esteem and the security needed to sink their roots deep into the land of Armenia and to remain as productive citizens.”

What motivates Erickson? “I love meeting the families we help. I love the expressions on their faces when we work with them. Their hospitality shines brilliantly and they are so grateful for people who are willing to work and help others get a hand up. They go from weariness from these Americans to admiration when the work we accomplish exceeds their hopes, or even when we show up on a rainy day to sling buckets of cement and get muddy.”

Erickson and crew are truly American ambassadors showing others that America is not just the politicians they see on TV or a country of spoiled actors or rich kids. “We are people who cherish our friends and can laugh with each other at our own silliness. We are not afraid to get dirty and tired while helping them.”

Erickson enjoys showing Armenia to Americans, especially to those who have never even heard of Armenia. “They leave Armenia in total awe of the culture and history of the country and people. They leave thinking that such a wonderful jewel was so previously unknown to them.”

She adds, “Plus there’s always the memory of my sweet grandmother who would really be pleased that her granddaughter, from North Dakota no less, is doing this for her countrymen and women’s descendants.”

This dedication to Armenian roots is the mystery that has not been solved. It seemingly beats in the heart of lions, warriors like Cynthia Reimers Erickson.

The challenge: Why would comfortable, well-heeled, youthful, retired Americans not get up off their duffs and take an opportunity to pay back some of their good fortune here to help their countrymen over there? Costs are expected to be $1,500-$1,700, plus airfare.

Available 2013 Armenian Global Builders trips are scheduled for these dates:

June 16-30: The lush northern region of Vanadzor

Aug. 2-15: The capital city of Yerevan

Aug. 28 to Sept. 7: The capital city of Yerevan

To learn more about these programs or to volunteer, visit www.fullercenterarmenia.org/home or e-mail Volunteer@FullerCenterArmenia.org.

It is an honor and pleasure to keep tabs on Cynthia Erickson, the Vanetzi who has danced into the hearts of Armenian Weekly readers through her heroic deeds in the Homeland. Paree jamportoutioun, Cynthia.

We know our people are dispersed all over the face of the earth—making up the Armenian Diaspora—but today we will focus on a group that deserves special attention for their drive to keep Armenian culture alive in the upper Midwest. I became aware of the Armenian Cultural Organization of Minnesota (ACOM), headquartered in St. Paul, Minn., through a half-Armenian lady, Cynthia Reimers Erickson, whom I met at a Vanetzi convention in Detroit several years ago. She is a volunteer team-leader building houses for the poor in Armenia through Fuller Center for Housing, making annual trips there as reported recently in the Weekly. Would we have known about this quiet heroine otherwise?

That the organization has given serious thought to their cultural mission is evident when you visit the ACOM homepage (www.mnarmenians.org/), which features an open book, with the first two letters of the Armenian alphabet, and our mountains of Big and Little Ararat. There exists an abundance of Armenian cultural life beyond Boston, Philadelphia, Detroit, and Los Angeles. It is alive and thriving in Minnesota, thanks to dedicated Armenians who remember their roots.

The Armenian Cultural Organization of Minnesota has been serving Armenians and friends since 1980, providing opportunities in culture, language, dance, history, and social events, and preserving Armenian identity and heritage. It is the oldest and largest Armenian organization in the state.

ACOM welcomes everyone regardless of ethnic, religious, or political affiliation who have an interest in Armenia and Armenians. Their membership includes first-generation through fourth-generation Armenians, their families, and non-Armenian friends of the community. Very broad-minded.

There is a lot of life in what many refer to as the “frozen north.” The organization’s many cultural and social events include the annual holiday party, Armenian dance parties, guest speakers, Armenian-language classes, folk dance classes and performances, chamber music concerts, art shows, summer picnics, and craft shows. Their executive members have a 2013 calendar fully planned and prepared to launch so that members are aware of coming events.

They kicked off 2013 with their popular Gaghant Party. In the fall, they celebrate Voski Ashoun (Golden Fall), another innovative celebration others can learn from.

The most significant undertaking for ACOM has been the International Festival of Nations, the second largest attraction in Minnesota. ACOM sponsors all Armenian activities at this major regional folk festival held annually in St. Paul. The festival has become the Armenian organization’s most visible public venue; it has helped keep Minnesota-Armenians in the public eye. Very importantly, through the efforts of some of the members, ACOM has managed to spread awareness of its value to society across the U.S. They are ambassadors of Armenian goodwill.

Guest speakers have included authors Tom Mooradian, Peter Balakian, and transplant physician Dr. John Najarian, M.D. Proceeds from the sale of Najarian’s book, The Miracle of Transplants, go to the Living Donor Transplant Assistance Fund, and the Armenian community there donated approximately $1,000 to the fund.

ACOM sponsors a popular series called, “What Was It Like Growing up Armenian in…” featuring speakers formerly from Baku, Bulgaria, Aleppo, Lebanon, and Egypt. All speakers have had similar yet unique experiences as Armenians growing up in these locales. This series is something other cities may want to emulate.

These speakers have personal stories to tell, which can be an awakening to those of us who have grown complacent in what we hope will continue to be an open and free society.

Their dance ensemble alone has 13 scheduled performances throughout the area for the year. They even publish a newsletter, and when you read all the items you may just want to pull up stakes and move to Minnesota. It may not be Florida, but it seems Armenians there are warm knit and think highly of one another. They surely take pride in being Armenian.

April 24, Armenian Remembrance Day, is held at St. Sahag Armenian Apostolic Church in St. Paul. It is interesting to note that all of ACOM’s events are well attended. The posted photos in their newsletter alone are proof of this community’s desire to promote and perpetuate the Armenian heritage.

The organization makes the effort to send flowers, get-well notes, and even gifts of donations to members’ favorite charities. They just seem to know the value of friendship and make note of all this in their newsletter.

Needless to say, we salute the Armenians and their friends of Minnesota for the good work they do. To read the newsletter, visit www.mnarmenians.org.

With proud father Armen mingling among the nearly 100 friends, relatives, and book-lovers gathered, Keri and Ara Topouzian gave everyone a wonderful reason to be at the lavish Hagopian World of Rugs showroom in stylish downtown Birmingham, Mich., on the evening of May 1, 2013.

The book ‘A Perfect Armenian’

The event was a book signing and the Armenian tradition of a “kinetzon,” a wine blessing, of author Keri Topouzian for his book A Perfect Armenian. (Kini is the Armenian word for wine.)

Guests enjoyed wine and light refreshments while enjoying the camaraderie of new and old acquaintances.

You couldn’t get more Armenian than the venue chosen for this book launching, surrounded by unbelievably beautiful rugs and carpets. You know it is 2013, but there is something in the air that puts you back into the 1800′s and early 1900′s. That is when Keri’s book begins, a book with a vibrant orange poppy flower on the cover that, after seven years, has become a reality.

Topouzian’s grandparents, like many, escaped the horrors of the genocide. And Keri and Ara have done Armenian Americans proud with their second-generation accomplishments.

Keri, a physician by profession, now adds successful author to his resume. He wanted a story that found triumph. At the event, he read a brief excerpt from the book: “1897 the first reality…Istanbul. We see three hanging bodies—Armenian—the result of an attempt on Sultan Hamid’s life that failed.” The novel provides insight into how Armenians must have felt during those terrible times.

“The story is true and not true. It happened to my family. I am proud of my heritage and I wanted to tell others about a horrible time in Armenian history. I wanted it to not be sad, to show that people can earn their way to the possibility of a better life.”

The book, available on Amazon.com, proved to be a hot item as book lovers snatched it up several at a time. It includes history, fiction, romance, and adventure. It may have had its beginnings a long time ago, but it is a time that will not be forgotten. Perhaps if the perpetrators had been adequately punished for their crime against humanity, Rwanda, Bosnia, Somalia, and other genocides would not have occurred.

Fr. Hrant Kevorkian of St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, Dearborn, and Badveli Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian of the Armenian Congregational Church of Southfield, together blessed the book and author. Fr. Hrant said, “We bless the author and its readers, not the book,” as the wine was poured onto the pages. “Wine is a noble drink of royalty and our Heavenly King.”

Badveli Tootikian said, “Glory to the Father, the Holy Spirit, Amen. Bless the author and readers to open their minds. We invoke your blessings on Keri Topouzian and may this book be a blessing to our community. This we ask in your name.”

The audience chuckled as Badveli Tootikian added that Keri was a student of his at the University of Michigan, where he was “almost a good and perfect student, but there is no such thing as ‘A Perfect Armenian’ like the book suggests.”

The spotlight now switches to younger brother Ara Topouzian, the kanun virtuoso and successful economic development director of the City of Novi in Michigan. The kanun is known as a Middle Eastern harp and Ara is the master of Armenian and Middle Eastern music, bringing joy to those who love those ancient village rhythms that speak to our heart and soul.

Ara on the 76-string laptop instrument was accompanied by Jerry Gerjekian on dumbeg and Doug Shimmins on guitar, playing traditional music before and after the book presentation—for audience foot-tapping and listening pleasure. It was the music of the now non-existent villages of our destroyed Armenia. It is the music he wants the newer generation to grow to love like he did on his travels to the East Coast, where he heard the master musicians play when he was still quite young.

He is to be commended for bringing musical life back to where it belongs—to the people. Even the abundance of colorful Oriental rugs everywhere seemed to brigthen and come to life at the sound of those glorious rhythms.

Ara was named the 2012 Kresge Artist Fellow in the Performing Arts and awarded $25,000. That alone gives you an idea of the young man’s musical capability. He has been playing for over 25 years, as both a solo and ensemble musician. He has garnered a national reputation for his musical expertise, performing an original concerto written for the kanun as a guest soloist with the Virginia Community University Symphony. Ara has been featured on several nationally aired PBS documentaries, and has produced and performed many albums.

In April, he was part of a panel discussion at the Wright Museum in Detroit—along with prominent musicians from Boston, oud virtuoso Mal Barsamian and Northeastern University Prof. Leon Janikian—on the origin of Armenian and Middle Eastern music, which included performances.

Both author Keri and musician/community developer Ara credit their parents Armen and the late Norma Topouzian for encouraging them to accomplish all they could in their lifetime.

The music Ara plays is his ethnic identity. His resurrection of the simple village music of life and love is his endeavor to bring glory to his ancestors. So, you see, the Turks cannot and will not extinguish the creative light and genius of Armenians. Keri and Ara just will just not allow it.

It was a powerhouse event featuring a dynamic duo, ANCA Eastern Region Freedom Award winners Baroness Caroline Cox and firebrand national community leader Mourad Topalian who willingly electrified an overflow crowd of 400 people on the evening of April 27 at Livonia Stevenson High School. The stellar evening was presented with the cooperation of the Armenian Genocide Commemorative Committee of Greater Detroit.

A beautiful sight was the Homenetmen presentation of the United States flag, the Armenian tri-color, and the Michigan state and Artsakh flags during the singing of the national anthems, and the AYF singing of the National Anthems (with Helen Mempreian Movsesianon playing the piano). The youth actively participated in the event.

As co-chair Michael Hagopian indicated, “We are here to commemorate the 98th year of the Armenian Genocide of 1915-23 perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire and still denied by the present-day Turkish government regardless of positive proof to the opposite. Our martyrs say don’t mourn us avenge us, and our youth must start taking the lead. All Armenians lost loved ones.” To the Turkish state Hagopian said emphatically, “We are here and we are here to stay.”

Hagopian introduced the keynote speaker Baroness Caroline Cox. Baroness Cox is like Eleanor Roosevelt and Mother Theresa rolled into one. Mourad Topalian is reminiscent of Detroit’s late Hagop Mouradian and Arthur Giragosian of Providence, who with their fiery oratory could shake the very foundation of any venue. No better compliment could be given to any man and when told this Mourad showed a broad smile, knowing he was in great company. Together, Baroness Cox and Topalian gave the Metro Detroit audience an evening to remember—one that rallied them to become more involved in the fight for Armenian justice, and awakened them to the existing danger by the growing bully strength of present-day Turkey and Azerbaijan.

Baroness Cox was accompanied by good friends and area residents Robert and Gayane Kachadourian. She greeted the audience with “Parev tsez,” and spoke of her “tribute to a Nation whose people not only survive but create beauty from the ashes of destruction.” She has made 78 remarkable visits to Armenia and Karabagh, strongly believing in the right to self-determination of the Armenians of Karabagh. She is the chair of the British Armenia All-Party Parliamentary Group.

When I asked her how to properly address her, she replied in a down to earth manner, “Call me by my Christian name, Caroline.” She endeared herself to all by being involved in the rehabilitation of the disabled through the Humanitarian Aid Relief Trust (HART), which has become an internationally recognized “Center of Excellence.”

She told her horror stories of the Karabagh War and bombed out homes, of families hiding in basements with no light or heat, of children being born in basements, but said their spirit always carried them through ordeals valiantly. She told of a lack of medication and legs amputated without the aid of anesthesia, and how she loaded up in London on the proper drugs to take to the injured in Artsakh (Karabagh). “The pogroms were horribly reminiscent of 1915. The Azeris must be held accountable.”

While trying to get to Sissian on a cold and icy Christmas Eve, her bus was stuck in the dark of night on the mountain pass with other cars. Zory Balayan rescued the others, putting his life in danger in the below 50-degree temperatures to transfer people into the baroness’s bus. “What a privilege to be of help,” she said modestly.

I told her afterwards, “God has taken much from the Armenians, but he has given us you,” and she graciously thanked me. Baroness Cox has no air of importance or superiority about her. She has even taken 8 of her 10 grandchildren to Karabagh without fearing for their lives. She has even climbed down to the pit of Khor Virab, where St. Gregory was imprisoned for years. If each Armenian took the initiative to do 1/10^th of what she does, how quickly we could advance justice!

She reminded the audience of HART’s motto: “I cannot do everything, but I must not do anything.”

The ARF presented HART with a very generous donation to carry on its fine rehabilitation work.

It was when thirty fatigue clad Hamazkayin Arax Dance Ensemble youth performed a spirited precision drill type dance called “Ariunod Trosh” (bloody flag) with audible Hoo Ha’s, the Armenian fighting spirit came through clearly.

Adi Asadoorian represented the Armenian Youth Federation and gave an encouraging account of how the youth intend to carry on the mantle of their elders in the quest for justice.

A letter of support was read sent by Michigan Senator Debbie Stabenow, Reading of proclamation was accomplished by Ms. Anya Bieciuk representing Gov. Rick Snyder, Klint Kesto state representative from the 39th District was in attendance.

Co-chair Raffi Ourlian then read Mourad Topalian’s biography, describing him as a prominent member and political activist of the Armenian community. Topalian was chairman of the ANCA and the International Hye Tahd Committee for 12 years. He was awarded the Freedom Award for his dedication to advancing the Armenian Cause. With several master’s degrees to his credit, Topalian has also taught college level courses.

Mourad Topalian is a true and loyal patriot of Armenia and justice. He says, “We don’t have to ask for the genocide to be recognized by any president. It was already done years ago. We know the genocide happened, most of the world knows it happened.”

“Detroit, you stood by me during difficult times,” he said, emotionally. “My daughter had cancer, but now is healthy and a college student.” He quoted from the US Constitution, Abraham Lincoln, and Patrick Henry: “Give me liberty or give me death.”

“The killers took everything we own. They took our farms, our lands, our businesses, our orchards, raped our girls, went on a killing rampage, sent us into the desert barefooted, naked, and starving. They destroyed our villages. We want reparations, we want restitution, we want our lands, we want our bank accounts, we want justice! We want what is ours!” He spoke of Simon Vratzian, saying our martyrs did not die needlessly.

Topalian is passionate man who leads the way with his knowledge of the Armenian situation and how things work in Washington. He had access to the White House, Congress, and the powers to be. He remains an outspoken humanitarian for Armenian justice. Can each of us not give him our backing, can we not give a little more of ourselves when we have to stand up now, more than ever before, for Armenian rights and our martyrs?

“We the diaspora have to be the second army,” he said. “There are 80 million Turks. They fear the diaspora. A recent poll taken in Turkey showed 80 percent of them hate Americans, and yet we allow them to build over 200 charter schools here in our country. What is our nation thinking? They are out to eliminate every one of us, you and me.”

“Return our churches,” he continued. “More than 2,500 churches were turned into stables or barracks or were otherwise destroyed. Where are the American principles? We must do more, get angry. We seek nothing more than what is ours, the restoration of our homes, lands, farms, our dignity, and churches. Where are American principles concerning Armenians?” He added, “Our dreams were written on the blood of the Lisbon Five and others.” Topalian, like many, still carries on his shoulders the weight of the Armenian Genocide. He is a man on a mission. Many of us in the audience had attended a Mid-West conference in the late 1950’s in his hometown of Cleveland, where his family, with roots in Malatya, were working on the Armenian Cause.

The evening concluded to standing ovations with the speakers being thronged by a congratulatory crowd.

The commemorative committee consisted of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation, Armenian Youth Federation, Armenian Relief Society, ANCA of Michigan, Armenian Community Center, Homenetmen of Detroit, Hamazkayin Arm. Ed. & Cultural Society, St.Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, Armenian Congregational Church, and St. Vartan Armenian Catholic church.

Benediction was given by Rev. Fr. Hrant Kevorkian and Badveli Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian.

An afterglow was held at George’s Senate Coney Island in Northville where guests were hosted to convivial conversation and a marvelous buffet dinner.

In recent years the Detroit Armenian community has returned to its former strength and greatness under youthful leadership injecting new life into the spirit established by the survivor generation. The committee is to be commended for providing the community with an exceptional evening. Comments from supporters were nothing but positive.

It’s always a thrill to learn about Armenian successes, and Dr. Paul Haidostian, the affable president of Haigazian University in Beirut, on May 7 provided interesting information to diasporans about his liberal arts school of higher learning during his talk at the Armenian Congregational Church, including insights into the Syrian situation.

Haidostian, a theologian and pastor, was introduced by Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian, Emeritus, of the Armenian Congregational Church. It was a rare opportunity to learn about Haigazian, its educational offerings and its many successes. We were surprised and proud to learn that in 1960 a group of Haigazian students, under the guidance of math and physics instructor Manoug Manougian, produced the first rocket shot in the Arab world. It was a single stage solid propellant rocket launched, and it reached an altitude of one kilometer. It later became known as the Lebanese Rocket Society launching a two-stage rocket. This was Armenian scientific ingenuity that few know about. A film about this has recently been made and released to the public.

The highly rated university, founded in 1955, is the highest Armenian educational institute in the diaspora. Haidostian says, “We call it an Armenian university open to the larger world. We are also popular with Muslims. There are some who live in the Middle East by chance and some by choice.”

Haigazian is supported by the Armenian Evangelical community. The university uses English as the main language of instruction. It offers bachelor of arts, business, and science, and master’s programs, too.

“We are the cradle of so many major religions. Conflicts, too, started in the Middle East and never ended. Lebanon continues to be a vibrant place for science, business, and culture. I don’t know what kind of fertility is there but once they are born here they stay. Maybe that’s why it remains an attractive place.”

He continued, “We were having a conference and a U.S. advisory board was warned not to fly to Beirut. I wrote all the potential comers, said hello, and I bombarded them with activities that we had planned for their pleasure. That was my way of saying, ‘We’re okay.’ Twelve people came from the U.S. Only one person bowed out.”

The Armenian community in Beirut has education covered, from nursery school to university, as well as two old age homes, a radio station, and three newspapers.

“What does community life mean? That is why Lebanon is vibrant. In the infrastructure of Armenian life we still find opportunity here,” the president said. The university has a staff of 55, and graduates that number 3,300. “Haigazian is the only university owned by Armenians outside of Armenia. Fifty-eight percent of students are non-Armenian. Why do they come to our school? They come for their educational benefit. We like our reputation to be like it is—caring. Almost half the enrollment is Armenian. For those who are not Armenian, the atmosphere is attractive.”

“There is something neutral in every Armenian in Beirut regardless of political or religious belief. On April 24, it was a sea of Armenians walking together for a memorial observance. For the 100th anniversary of the genocide it will be the same. Haigazian University is seen as a neutral place for all people regardless of race, nationality, or creed.”

Their ties with Armenia have been further strengthened. Financially $1.2 million is available to support university students.

Armenian President Serge Sarikisan visited and asked if he could address the student body. The offer was considered a privilege by all.

Haidostian comes from a family of educators. His father, Rev. Lufti Haidostian, was principal of Bethel Armenian Evangelical School, where Badveli Tootikian’s wife Rosette Tootikian was a student. His uncle, Rev. Dr. Hovannes Aharonian, was president of Near East School of Theology. The college was founded in 1955 in honor of Prof. Armenag Haigazian, who received his Ph.D. from Yale and went back to become president of St. Paul College in the Ottoman Empire. Although he had a chance to escape to the U.S., he chose to stay and continue his ministry. Like the other intellectuals of the time, he was rounded up and marched to the Syrian desert. He died in prison in Kharpert in 1921, thus ending his service to his compatriots.

The Armenian Evangelists had 8 colleges in the Ottoman Empire before the genocide, and 250 high schools. All were destroyed.

In 1955, the Mehagian family of Phoenix, Az., and others donated capital through the Armenian Missionary Association of America (AMAA) to get Haigazian University started. It has since produced businessmen, educators, and scientists; the prime minister of Lebanon is also a graduate.

Haigazian’s doors are open to all Armenians and to people of all beliefs. Yeretzgeen Tamara Kevorkian of St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church is also one of its graduates.

Concerning Syria, Haidostian said, “People in Syria don’t know what they want. Confusion exists as to what is happening. Most of us know the ‘Spring’ was not what we wanted. It’s a switch of power. Some will prosper, some will suffer more. The loss of life is heavy.”

“A number of Armenians have left the country. Some Armenians who went to Armenia returned to Syria because of economic difficulties. Conditions were not good. The transition by Armenians to Beirut is smoother, modified lifestyle, more comfortable.”

“Relief has not been easy,” he added. “One reason is Armenians have a high sense of dignity, they do not want to live in a tent. This is the Armenian pride. You are not sure which Armenians need what.”

The informative evening ended with coffee, refreshments, and socializing. If you get the opportunity to hear Dr. Paul Haidostian, take advantage. He is an erudite, knowledgeable gentleman who knows how to communicate.

Youth is not wasted on the young, and the metro Detroit area can thank Diane Changelian, the superintendent of the St. Sarkis Sunday School program in Dearborn, along with the exemplary volunteer staff of teachers, for their dedication to the religious upbringing of the future generation of churchgoers.

Under the direction of Rev. Fr. Hrant Kevorkian, who arrived to serve parishioners late last summer, Sunday School attendance has flourished with many more students attending this ancient church of Apostolic origin.

John Manoogian was generous in the improvements made several years ago, which transformed the Sunday School rooms into a first-class learning environment for the youngsters.

Rev. Fr. Kevorkian wisely gives special attention to the youth even during Badarak, making them feel like an important part of the congregation and services. They will, after all, be the inheritors and the hope of our future.

After church services on May 19, parishioners were treated to a program that concluded religious instruction until next fall. Following opening remarks by Diane Changelian, Grades 4 through 8 did the Spirit of St. Gregory. The Outstanding Attendance Award was given to Arev Majeska, and Grades 9 and 10 did the Havadamk/Nicene Creed.

The Timothy Award went to Allie Krikorian, while PreK through Grade 3 said “Pokr Achker” (Oh Be Careful Little Eyes). Presentation of graduates was by Alexandra (Allie) Krikorian. Der Hrant Kevorkian gave closing remarks and prayers.

The students are learning the roots of their Christian foundation. The church is Apostolic, pertaining to Jesus’ Apostles, two of whom ministered in Armenia after the Crucifixion. One was Thaddeus, who cured King Abgar of Edessa of leprosy and converted him to Christianity. The other was Bartholomew, who ministered in Armenia proper.

The Armenian National Church refers to itself as the Armenian Apostolic Church, as it was originally established by the Apostles. Youngsters are proud in knowing that they are following in the footsteps of their ancestors who, by their acceptance of Christ, distinguished Armenia as the first to accept Christianity as its state religion.

Community members give high praise to Changelian and the dedicated teachers who have taken on the vital responsibility of teaching the Armenian youth about their heritage and religion. They need to be congratulated and shown appreciation.

On Mother’s Day, May 12, a very lovely high-gloss booklet of prayers called “Hreshdagayeen Seero Aghotkner” (Angelic Prayers of Love) was given to mothers; compiled by the St. Sarkis Sunday School students, it reflected affection and admiration. It was made possible by the generous contribution of Pearl Mooradian in loving memory of her husband, Hagop Mooradian.

The booklet contains a congratulatory message from Archbishop Oshagan, Prelate of the Armenian Apostolic Church of America, Eastern United States of America, saying how pleased he was with their efforts in honor of the “Year of the Mother of the Armenian Family.”

He wrote, “Mayr, Mother, is the sweetest sounding word of all. Mother is someone we love and respect, the person who loves us unconditionally. She willingly suffers for us. Prayer is our daily communication with God. They can be prayers of our making or the more familiar ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’”

The Prelate congratulated the students for their inspired initiative to write the prayers to their mothers.

A great deal of time and patience was needed for this beautiful keepsake 36-page booklet to come to fruition. It contains the sentiments of students from all grade levels.

“The Sunday School students present this book of prayers to their mothers, grandmothers, godmothers, aunts, and all the women of the St. Sarkis Church community,” Changelian wrote in the book. “They thank God for the presence of these women in their lives, and ask His blessings for their health, happiness, and long life.”

The imprint of tiny hands fill some pages, along with crosses, hearts, flowers, and the amazing originality in expressed thought. It brings tears to my eyes when reading the words of the little ones so grateful for the love of their precious mothers. Some even refer to their mom’s delicious pilaf—Armenian all the way!

The children are sweet and tender. Hugs and kisses were plentiful at the conclusion of this wonderful afternoon of tribute to special ladies: MOMS.

For many, the brightest times in metropolitan Detroit’s Armenian social life—that arrive with spring and continue through October—are the agoump dinners prepared by Krista and chef-husband Ara Tossounian.

While Krista is in the kitchen preparing her mouth-watering salad, rice, and bulgur pilaf, Ara is outside grilling marinated chicken kebab and perfectly seasoned lulu kufta regardless of the weather—and Michigan can dish out some interesting climatic changes. Ara stands tall and determined to do his part. It is a family affair with their daughters, son, and relatives all involved.

You know the part of the Badarak that reads, “Greet yee one another with a kiss”? Well, that is exactly how the Tossounians greet you as you trespass your way through the kitchen on agoump dinner night. Cheerful hugs and kisses abound.

It isn’t a business, it is a much-needed community service. And it better continue or a ruckus will be raised by those clamoring for more social events, like we had in the old days.

Among all the other activities taking place in this community of Armenians, agoump kebab dinner night is the most popular, looked forward to, and frequently attended by a loyal troop of people in the know, both about great food and camaraderie.

“We love the agoump kebab dinner days,” cry out the devoted deghatzis, Vanetzis, Keghetzis, etc. “We wish it was every Thursday, instead of only twice a month.”

First held at the “Azadamard” Gomideh‘s Armenian Community Center on Ford Rd. in Dearborn, the dinners are now held from 6-9 p.m. in the Lillian Arakelian Memorial Hall at St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, adjacent to the community center.

The Armenian Community Center is now being rented by a charter school, so we are grateful the Tossounians have the church hall. For a time, we were fearful that the dinners would be discontinued; thankfully, they were not. Don’t take that away from us.

Tables fill up fast and the cheerful din of hungry diners takes over the room. So many of us feel the need for a casual venue where we can gather, talk, share coffee and dessert. Granted the community is spread wide and far in Oakland and Wayne Counties, but many happily drive the distance just to be there.

A majority of us speak in English, but the old ways of the survivor generation is in our blood. And as we look around the crowded room, we see some second- and third-generations Hyes joining the mostly older crowd. We reminisce about old Delray, Zone 9 Detroit, Highland Park, cities where Armenians began their adventure in America. We talk about the Findlater, the former magnificent Masonic Temple that was purchased with the factory sweat and ambition of the previous generation, who arrived here as refugees and exiles.

What a priceless legacy that generation gave us. Their character and dedication to their Armenian heritage lives on. Come and do your part to continue their dream so that we can say, “Armenia lives,” no matter where we have ended up.

The need for similar social gatherings is expressly needed in the Detroit community. Why not an affordably priced cheekufta night, or a boereg and salad night sprinkled intermittently throughout the year?

In an aging first-generation born in the U.S. (many of whom have already passed on to their reward or are dealing with health issues), these twice monthly dinners are a precious opportunity to enjoy a delicious home-made dinner. Served buffet style, the portions are generous and the $10 dollar price is a bargain. Soft drinks and dessert are extra. Come and enjoy!

***

From Oct. 6-18, Glendale’s Catherine Yesayan is taking a group to tour Armenia. The Tehran-born Yesayan spent several months there last year and says, “It is so much fun in Armenia!”

Yesayan invites you: “Join us in the land of Noah to one of the world’s oldest civilizations. Armenia once included Mt. Ararat, biblically identified as the mountain that the Ark rested on after the great flood.”

The 13-day tour will focus on the unique cultural, religious, and historical sights of Armenia, such as Holy Etchimiadzin, the first state built church in the world; monasteries included on the UNESCO World Heritage list; and several days exploring the vibrant city of Yerevan.

To learn more, contact Catherine Yesayan by e-mailing cyesayan@gmail.com or calling (818) 497-0707.

On the evening of Dec. 7, 450 hamagirs and believers in the Armenian Cause led by the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) filled the ballroom of Livonia’s Embassy Suite Hotel to celebrate the ARF’s 123^rd year in defense of the Armenian people.

A scene from the celebration

The Detroit ARF “Azadamard” Gomideh continues to maintain its stellar reputation as a hotbed of Tashnagtsagan leadership. This evening they actively included Armenian youth in training to rise to the occasion and fulfill their role as community activists.

The Homenetmen Scouts presented the American stars and stripes and the Armenian tricolor, Artsakh, and ARF flags.

The Armenian and American national anthems were beautifully sung by Araxie Tossounian, Tamar Changelian, and Nayiri Carman, bringing strong applause.

Young attorney Alidz Oshagan welcomed guests saying, “Each of us have come together as ungers. Proceeds from this evening will be donated to the Syrian-Armenian relief fund.”

Oshagan follows in the footsteps of her attorney mother Georgi-Ann and Ph.D. father Hayg in community leadership. She comes from illustrious Oshagan roots.

The ARF is a political party accountable to all Armenians. That ideology remains steadfast today.

Attending this momentous celebration were members of the ARF Central Committee, Eastern Region.

Months of intensive planning for the 123 years of success included an ad booklet with photos of ARF historical events on the cover.

Also attending were Hairenik editor Zaven Torigian, Armenian Weekly editor Khatchig Mouradian, and Hairenik Association manager Armen Khachatourian, and ARF Eastern Region Central Committee executive director Maral Choloian.

Clergy present at the event included Fr. Andon Atamian of the Armenian Catholic Church, Badveli Dr. Vahan and Mrs. Rosette Tootikian and Pastor Shant Barsamian of the Armenian Congregational Church, Rev. Hrant and Mrs. Tamar Kevorkian of St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, and Rev. Daron and Mrs. Sosy Stepanian representing St. Hagop Armenian Apostolic Church of Racine, Wisc.

ARS was represented by Sirvart Telbelian and her Husband, Hamazkayin was represented by chairwoman Hermine Manougian and her husband, Homenetmen was represented by Garineh Chopjian and Rozalin Basmajian, AYF was represented by Haygan Tcholakian.

“Azadamard” Gomideh chairman Raffi Ourlian thanked the audience and all those who served the party during its 123 years of existence. “The ARF is a political organization to bring the communities together. You all know the horrible events of 1915. All of us remain touched by that injustice. The guilty ones were brought down by members of the ARF’s Nemesis group in various European cities where they sought safety. Some of those heroes were Aram Yarganian, Misak Torlakian, Shahan Natalie, and of course Soghomon Tehlirian, who assassinated Talaat [Pasha] in the streets of Berlin, was tried, and exonerated.”

We fondly remember the now silent voices of Detroit’s own greats, Hagop Mooradian and Kopernik Tandourjian, Providence’s Arthur Giragosian, and Boston’s James Tashjian.

Guest speaker was Antranig Kasbarian, Ph.D, Vice-Chair of the ARF Central Committee-Eastern Region. Conversant in both English and Armenian, he has served the ARF in many capacities. He has worked for the Tufenkian Foundation for many years in resettlement efforts in Artsakh. Kasbarian noted the warm reception he had received from many in the crowd, likening the evening “to a family reunion.” He added that “the strength and vitality of this community is apparent in the wall to wall attendance of an overflow crowd of 450 people.”

Kasbarian’s message stressed that while the ARF has played many different roles in the life of our people, these roles have been generally reducible to three core pillars: 1) Sovereignty and social justice for Armenia and its people; 2) The quest for historical justice, i.e. the struggle for Hai Tahd, which includes Artsakh as well as Western Armenia which was lost in the 1915 Genocide; and 3) The struggle to maintain and develop Armenian language, culture and national identity, i.e. “hayabahbanoum.”

He continued, “The ARF was a leader of our first fledgling Republic and in 1990 actively returned to the Armenian homeland. While the ARF has made mistakes alongside its accomplishments, it has always done so from the standpoint of commitment and engagement. The Republic of Armenia today has goals to achieve. The malaise of people leaving the country must be stemmed. Jobs must be created for people to visualize the hope for economic prosperity to remain in Armenia.”

“We want Armenia to flourish. The ARF kept the dream alive of a sovereign Armenia. ‘They’ laughed at us, calling our dreams unrealistic, but freedom did come to Armenia. If the Soviet Union could fall, who is to say that Turkey is an unbreakable monolith? Our dream may not come today, but over generations the opportunities can arise, so we must remain prepared.” In his remarks, he also elaborated on the importance and contribution of the ARF’s partners and affiliates — the Armenian Relief Society, The Hamazkayin, Homenetmen, Armenian Youth Federation and the church.

Guests dined on a gourmet dinner. Buttery platters of baklava sated the sweet tooth. Johnny Walker flowed for some, but it was Harout Pamboukjian and his band from Los Angeles that excited the crowd, bringing them to their feet as he hit the stage like a rock star singing patriotic songs.

Harout Pamboukjian and his band was introduced by Toros Bardakjian, who first thanked the organizing committee and then the volunteers.

“Detroit, I’m glad you remembered me and invited me back,” the popular singer said. “As cold as it is outside, my heart has been warmed by your support. I remember my father said, “The walls have ears,” thinking of the bad times in Soviet Armenia before our family’s arrival in Lebanon. He would whisper to me about the ARF, the party seeking freedom and justice for the Armenian people. Thanks to the ARF, we have Armenian schools, churches, and community centers. Thanks to the ARF, I too am a believer.”

The artist performed until 2 a.m., bringing people to fill the dance floor with great energy.

The clergy led the guests in the “Hayr Mer” prayer. The ARF anthem “Mshag Panvor” was sung with pride and reverence.

Carly Simon’s composition “Nobody Does It Better” appropriately played softly in the background during the dinner hour; it is an all-telling indication of the ARF’s direction for the future. These 123 years of dedication to the wellbeing of the Armenian people with God’s guidance will grow stronger. The 450 hamagirs cannot be mistaken.

The ARF “Azadamard” Gomidehoutiun and the Greater Detroit community deeply appreciate the performance of Harout Pamboukjian under very difficult circumstances and, collectively, wish for the full recovery and good health of his beloved wife, Rosa.

“He was very, very proud of his Armenian heritage. He really was.” These were the first words that Marguerite (Aznavoorian) Hadjian told me, days after her husband’s funeral. Nazareth “Naz” Hadjian’s life was celebrated on April 10 in St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, where he had served as a member of the Board of Trustees, by Rev. Fr. Hrant Kevorkian.

Nazareth “Naz” Hadjian

The sanctuary that morning was full of Armenians and non-Hyes alike, there to pay their last respects to a man, his wife, and his family. It was clear that our AYF “Mourad-Zavarian” friend had established numerous, long-lasting friendships during his lifetime.

His casket was flanked by beautiful red roses in loving tribute to this son, husband, uncle, and brother-in-law. His death was unexpected, and the sorrow was written on the face of the mourners who approached the casket to say a final goodbye.

The Hadjians had recently returned from a Florida vacation when it happened. “Naz was reading a book with the TV on. I had just come home from walking our dog, Duncan. I called out, ‘I’m back,’ and went upstairs,” Marguerite told me. “When I came back downstairs, I found him on the floor and I called 911 immediately.” He had succumbed to a massive heart attack.

“It was a day like so many others. Almost every night we would be out to dinner with friends, or it we would meet for lunch. They would call and we would go.”

“He loved friends,” she continued. “My girlfriends enjoyed teasing him and he always enjoyed it. They all thought he was a great guy. They would come over to visit. Then we would decide we wanted a pizza. We would send him out to get it and he was happy to do it. He had an out-going nature.”

Naz and Marguerite met and fell in love as members of the Detroit Armenian Youth Federation (AYF) “Mourad-Zavarian” Chapter. “My father made me join,” she said. “I was 17, Naz was 19. Oh my goodness, I loved being in the AYF, going to all the conferences, conventions, and the Olympics.”

The blissful couple would have been wed 50 years this Sept. 12. They were happy years filled with really good memories. “We spent our days together running around. We had a lot of fun. He was my best friend.”

The couple lived in Dearborn Heights and were true animal lovers—dogs, especially, and later horses. Naz did not have a dog as a child, so after marriage husband and wife became dedicated pet owners. They were loving “parents” to all their dogs, including present family member Duncan and a Cockapoo.

Being responsible and caring pet owners says a great deal about one’s unselfish character. During the holidays, the Hadjian residence was an open house. Anyone that did not have somewhere to go was always invited to join in breaking bread with Naz and family.

Nazareth Hadjian was born in Greece to Anna and George Hadjian. The family moved to Detroit when he was eight. Naz graduated from Cass Technical High School with a concentration in commercial art. His careers included commercial art design and printing; for many years he was a self-employed printer. He was a member of the Detroit “Azadamard” Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF).

Together with Chuck Yessaian, Naz brought together baseball and basketball teams, combining Prelacy and Diocese youth in friendly competition, and setting somewhat of a historical precedent. He participated with the Orthodox Youth Athletic Association, where he was inducted into the Hall of Fame for baseball.

During Thursday Agoump kebab dinners, he and Marguerite could be seen dining and laughing, always surrounded by many friends.

In addition to baseball and hockey, Naz enjoyed classic movies and was a member of the Laurel and Hardy Club. He was an avid reader of history, especially World War II books. He was a trivia expert of 1950’s music and old movies, his favorite being “The Best Years of Our Lives.” It seems he made all his years the best. He knew how to squeeze the most out of life.

Above all, the man was passionate about going to the racetrack, which led to him owning several race horses. “When the Detroit Race Course, Ladbrook DRC, was replaced by a big box emporium, Naz had to fight the car’s steering wheel in mock anger,” Marguerite said.

Naz also started an annual tradition of hosting a men-only poker game the night before Thanksgiving, “lasting well into the following morning,” Marguerite said laughingly. Naz even became well known for his barbeque skills, taking time to marinate and prepare meat, making sure it was just perfect for guests to enjoy.

When he left the printing business, Nazareth became a popular blackjack dealer at Motor City Casino, keeping his audience entertained with jokes and stories. They loved his antics.

His lavish Hokeh Jash was attended by 130 people, and his friends gave heartfelt, affectionate tributes to the man they would miss so much. He was, as they say, one of the good guys. When you became a friend of Naz’s, you became family and were embraced for life. He was a loving husband, son to Anna Kololian, brother, uncle, godfather, brother-in-law, and friend. His generosity, love of life, and sense of humor will be missed by all.

Memorial contributions may be made to St. Sarkis Armenian Church and the Michigan Humane Society.

The post The Fruitful Life of Nazareth ‘Naz’ Hadjian (1941-2014) appeared first on Armenian Weekly.

This community proved its dedication to our 1,500,000 million martyrs when more than 600 individuals filled the sanctuary of St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church on the evening of April 24, 2014. This magnificent feat was accomplished with the unified efforts of St. John Armenian Church of Greater Detroit, St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, St. Vartan Armenian Catholic Church, and the Armenian Congregational Church.

Armenian Genocide commemoration at St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church

Who are these 600 individuals? They can be said to be the exiles, deportees, succeeding generations that sprung from the survivors of the Armenian Genocide. “We swear by the spilled blood of our ancestors that we will never forget the Armenians massacred by the Ottoman Turks,” is their cry. And together we paid for the souls of the slain innocents.

Co-mc of the day, Lara Nercessian, vice-chair of the ANC

With standing room only, each person was given a booklet containing the Vespers Service. The sweetest sound was the “Hayr Mer” being recited by the large throng from the Diocese, Prelacy, Catholic, and Congregational churches. The choir, 22 strong, was harmonious and heaven-like. It was so Armenian with the processional, the incense, sharagans, and vested clergy. We took a deep breath and felt proud to be Armenian, and happy to be paying honor to those we lost to the extremists.

“We’re happy to be here on this solemn occasion with all of the Armenian community participating,” said sisters Ida Gononian and Sona Nahabedian. That was the prevailing attitude of the faithful, with many saying ,“We should have done this long ago.” Indeed.

Pastor Shant Barsoumian spoke in English, and said that 1915 was not the first genocide against the Armenians, that there were others not as devastating, but injurious nevertheless. “Please believe God was with us in 1915. Otherwise the enemy would have annihilated us all. God is holy. He brought us through those terrible times. He is bigger, stronger that the Supreme Court and the United Nations. Christ has given us faith over death. Live a vibrant faith-filled life.”

The clergy involved in the service were Very Fr. Diran Papazian, Very Rev. Fr. Garabed Kochakian, Rev. Fr. Abraham Ohanesian, Pastor Shant Barsourmian, and Rev. Fr. Hrant Kevorkian.

The procession with lit candles followed the clergy and choir outside to the Martyrs Monument surrounded by Easter lilies. Afterwards everyone was invited into the

Included that evening was a dazzling performance by some members of the Hamazkayin Arax Dance Ensemble.

Lillian Arakelian Community room for traditional lamb madagh sandwiches prepared by the Ladies’ Guilds from the participating churches.

Remella Carman, 100, and Oghi Mouradian, 101, were honored for being the area’s two sole survivors of the Armenian Genocide.

“It was very moving as we began to sing the requiem in front of the khatchkar. The heavens were with us. A light rain began sprinkling and that is why we never forget. It is as though God sent us a message,” said Vaughn Mesropian, the program director of the Armenian Radio Hour.

The community wishes to thank the clergy, deacons, ushers, organist Helen Movsesian, and Nancy Hardick for leading the choir.

Michael Hagopian and Richard Norsigian will co-chair the events for future genocide commemorations. The 100^th next year will be held at St. Mary’s in Livonia, which holds 1,300 people. The 101^st will be held

Co-mc Hovig Kouyoumdjian

at St. John’s Armenian Church. Both gentlemen briefly addressed the audience of future joint events. Norsigian said, “We want the Turks to realize they did not succeed in eradicating the Armenians. We won’t be satisfied until the Turkish and U.S. governments acknowledge the Armenian Genocide.”

Elaborate plans are underway for May 7-10, 2015 in Washington, D.C., for a show of strength with participation by Etchmiadzin and Cilicia—two Catholicoses, Prelates and Primates. There will be a march to the White House and the Arlington National Cemetery.

The Armenian National Committee (ANC) of Michigan also organized an event called “99 Years of Struggle for Justice” on the evening of April 26, at 7:30 p.m., with the participation of the ARF Detroit “Azadamard” Gomideh, AYF “Kopernik Tandourjian” chapter, the five ARS chapters, the Homenetmen of Detroit, and Hamazkayin of Detroit, at Lawrence Technological University in Southfield.

While the audience of around 300 filled the auditorium, a video showed grisly scenes of death and destruction from the genocide, with Karnig Sarkissian singing, “Barzir Aghpyur.” A train filled with Armenians was headed to death, we are now certain; an open pit held the bodies of dead Armenians; emaciated Armenian orphans lay dead in the street; a photo of murdered Hrant Dink, his body covered with a sheet in front of the Agos building; words from actor Mel Gibson saying Armenians have always struggled; and a poster that read, “Eastern Turkey is Western Armenia!” Another photo was of a child holding up his hands showing the holes by Turkish crucifixion, and there was one of Soghomon Tehlirian, who is credited with killing Talat, the genocide mastermind. Then another video was shown with genocide pictures while Isabel Bayrakdarian sang “Dele Yaman.”

ARF Chairman Raffi Ourlian welcomed guests and introduced the co-mc of the day, Lara Nercessian, vice-chair of the ANC. The presentation of flags was done by the Homenetmen Scouts. The Armenian and Amercan National Anthems were sung by Araxie Tossounian, Nayiri Carman, and Tamar Changelian. Then Nercessian that requested everyone stand in a moment of silence for our martyrs.

Proclamations were read from Michigan Governor Rick Snyder’s office by Ania Biciuk.

She spoke about being on the eve of the centennial. “Our ancestors were forced out of their homes 99 years ago. We have put up with 99 years of Turkey whitewashing history. We fight for recognition. We seek reparation for our lost lands. Despite every effort to destroy us, we have thrived. Twenty-one countries have recognized the genocide. Unfortunately the U.S. has not. Wipe away your tears, it is time to fight for justice.”

Co-mc Hovig Kouyoumdjian, chair of the ANC of Michigan, said, in Armenian, “It is

one year less than 100 years. It is important to light candles and to pray because it gives us comfort, but the time is also for reinforcing our demands for reparations from Turkey. Turkey maintains the same attitude of genocide denial.”

Proclamations were read from Michigan Governor Rick Snyder’s office by Ania Biciuk, and from Senator Debbie Stabenow, Senator Karl Levin, Reps. Gary Peters and Sander Levin. State Rep. Testo, of Chaldean decent, wrote, “Because of the oppression of the Genocide we share a lot more similarities than differences. It is our duty to recognize oppression.”

Guest speaker Ara Papian, a lawyer, historian, and diplomat, heads the Modus Vivendi Research Center. He was a diplomat at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the

Guest speaker Ara Papian

Republic of Armenia, and was the Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of Armenian to Canada from 2001-06.

He spoke of the significance of Nov. 22, 1920, when President Woodrow Wilson signed the Arbitral Award that decided the border between Armenia and Turkey. That document was kept secret for a long time, but Papian has compiled the over-240 page document, including the maps that clearly show those lands belonging to Armenia, as outlined by President Wilson.

The Arbitral Award bears the Great Seal of the United States of America, rendering it is binding and inviolable, and was signed by the U.S. president and co-signed by the secretary of state.

“If April 24 is memorialized as a day of great loss and a day we began demands for justice, then Nov. 22 needs to become a day of the restoration of justice, of demands for national reparations, and the re-establishment of our dispossessed rights. Arbitral Awards are final without appeal.”

ANCA Executive Director Aram Hamparian

ANCA Executive Director Aram Hamparian was the keynote speaker. He serves as the point-person with the Obama Administration, Congress, and the media. He spoke of why we need to challenge Turkey. We owe it to the world, he explained, that the evil set upon us is not done to anyone else. Armenia cannot be safe even today. If the Turks deny what they did as wrong, then they can say they have the right to do it again. If Turkey is to be a forward-looking state, they must put an end to denial. “It is a tragic testimony the U.S. government will not support our efforts,” he added.

“This year on April 24, Turks friendly to our cause gathered in remembrance, held a demonstration at the very same location where in 1915 our intellectuals numbering over 250 were gathered up and later killed. Change takes time and effort. Building public opinion can lead to the remedy.” Hamparian is an energetic speaker who seems perfect for the position he holds.

The Armenian and American National Anthems were sung by Araxie Tossounian, Nayiri Carman, and Tamar Changelian

Included that evening was a dazzling performance by some members of the Hamazkayin Arax Dance Ensemble, led by Nayiri Karapetian and Lara Zanazanian. The group is in its ninth year of performing and has more than 100 dancers. They are well known throughout the area for their perfectly executed, crowd-pleasing performances. The ensemble continues to draw Armenian youth interested in learning the traditional dance of their ancestors. They gave a fitting tribute to our martyrs, followed by an energetic, upbeat dance that had the audience clapping in rhythm.

Representing the AYF was Anoush Mardigian, a poised and eloquent representative of the “Kopernik Tandourjian” Chapter. Her well-written message of support of our Martyrs, the Armenian Cause, and demands for justice reinforced our faith that the youth are well aware of their responsibility. Our strength is in our youth.

The benediction was delivered by Rev. Fr. Hrant Kevorkian of St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church and Rev. Shant Barsoumian of the Armenian Congregational Church.

An afterglow reception was held at Marhaba Restaurant.

The event was organized by the ANC of Michigan. Participating organizations included the Armenian Revolutionary Federation, Armenian Youth Federation, Armenian Community Center, Armenian Relief Society, Hamazkayin Armenian Educational and Cultural Society, and Homenetmen of Detroit.

Many thanks are extended to those who, with their generous donations, made this event the huge success it was. The donations will be donated to the ANCA Telethon.

The post Greater Detroit United Church Service and ‘Hokehankisd’ appeared first on Armenian Weekly.

Ultimate Armenian Patriot, Consummate Husband, Family Man, and Physician

This community is stunned by the recent loss of a true Armenian patriot, Dr. Vahagn Agbabian of Bloomfield Hills, Mich., who passed away suddenly at age 86.

Dan Gark services were held Friday evening, May 9, at St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, followed by funeral services there on Saturday morning, May 10. Officiating clergy was Rev. Fr. Hrant Kevorkian. Dr. and Mrs. Agbabian had been members of St. Sarkis Church for more than 50 years, and their children attended the Sunday School program.

Dr. Agbabian was the father of Vahan (Julie) Agbabian, Dr. Vartan Agbabian, Joanne Anahid (Glen) Black, and Aram Agbabian. He was the loving grandfather of Ani Elizabeth, Alexander Vahan, Loren Anahid, and Alexandra Tamar. He was the devoted son of the late Vagharsh (from Van) and Noemi (from Bardizag) Agbabian, and dearest brother of Suzanne (Edward) Derbabian. He leaves behind many nieces, nephews, relatives, and friends. Although born in America, the good doctor was a proud and devoted Vanetsi.

The sanctuary was filled with Armenians from throughout the community, as well as the doctor’s professional colleagues and adoring patients. The kindly physician was described as “ecumenical” by Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian, Pastor Emeritus of the local Armenian Congregational Church, whose Dan Gark service tribute to Dr. Agbabian was overwhelmingly sincere; had his words not been spoken in church, it would have deserved a round of applause. The Agbabians were remembered that day as generous givers to anything representing Armenia and Armenians.

Dr. Agbabian’s Hoke Jash had the elegant touch of the Agbabian family. Without exception, his adoring wife of 52 years, Mary Jo (Wonacott) Agbabian, made sure that every detail of the funeral was carried out with the love and care her husband demonstrated throughout his whole life. She is deservedly described as “More Armenian than most Armenians.” Together, husband and wife traveled several times to Armenia, Karabagh, Lebanon, and Syria.

His daughter, Joann Anahid Black, perhaps put it best when she said tearfully, “He always took care of the needs of others first, never himself.” That was a common thread describing Dr. Vahagn Agbabian by all who spoke about him over the two days, when the community came together to pay respect and tribute to the very quiet, always smiling gentleman.

Son Vahan said, “I think it will take the four of us to fulfill all that he did.”

One friend said, “He was one in a million or two.” Another said, “I have known and worked with the doctor for 43 years at Pontiac Osteopathic Hospital. All of us nurses loved him and his sweet smile. He loved his patients and would always listen to them. He was 20 years ahead of his time as far as his medicine went. Other doctors now agree with him.”

Dr. Agbabian was born in Detroit and attended Wayne State, where he received his B.S. in pharmacy in 1950. He then attended Chicago College of Osteopathic Medicine, and interned at the Detroit Osteopathic Hospital in Highland Park. He continued his education in Dayton, Ohio, at Grandview Hospital, graduating with a degree in internal medicine in 1960.

He was on staff as an internist at the Pontiac Osteopathic Hospital (POH) for more than 50 years. He practiced internal medicine, integrative and holistic medicine, and clinical nutrition in his private practice, in conjunction with his staff position at POH. He took part in continuing medical education in his field, allowing him to practice very progressively and effectively with his patients, combining a caring, compassionate, and loving approach. It was not unusual for him to phone patients at home to inquire about their care.

Dr. Agbabian loved to read everything in his field, and particularly anything Armenian. Husband and wife were always at Armenian lectures and book talks, where it was assured he would purchase the author’s book. He had one of the largest personal collections of Armenian books. He loved the church, Armenian food, history, literature, music, and dance. He was paid tribute by the Tekeyan and Hamazkayin Cultural Association.

His services started and ended with the “Hayr Mer” (The Lord’s Prayer). Rev. Dr. Kevorkian recited requiem prayers for his soul. Assisting Der Hayr were deacons Antranig Karadolian, Khatchig Kafafian, Manoug DerOvagimian, and Simon Javizian. Der Kevorkian intoned, “The dead in Christ will rise again. We believe Jesus died and rose again. Rest him among your saints.”

Dan Gark services were conducted in both English and Armenian. Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian said, “He was loved and respected and was a doctor to thousands in his years. Mary Jo, his non-Armenian wife, devoted herself to being a traditional Armenian wife. She was able to say from day one, your people will be my people. He loved with all his heart Armenia and Karabagh, so much that his house became like an Armenian museum with perfectly framed photos, paintings, and sculptors. May his memory be blessed.”

“We feel a deep sense of gratitude. We feel sorrow at the loss of a dear friend. As Christians, his life is not at an end. There is an opening of gates of eternity with the Lord and his departed loved ones. His was a life that enriched the life of many of us.”

Beside his casket were two large flags, that of Armenia and Karabagh, just as in his lovely home. Dr. Agbabian was repeatedly described as a staunch Armenian, a patriot, and a believer in the American way, a man with a pure heart who served as a model as what a genuine Armenian is.

A condolence letter from Antranig Kasbarian on behalf of the Hairenik and the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Central Committee was read, saying the doctor was fiercely patriotic and a Tashnag through and through. Hokejash speakers included Hermine Manoogian, Jack Garboushian, David Terzibashian, Edward Haroutunian, niece Anahid Derbabian, Joann Anahid Black, and sons Vahan, Aram, and Vartan. They emphasized how important their father thought education was.

The doctor’s mission was to save lives, but the most touching tribute to the deceased was by his wife, Mary Jo, who told of his generosity to her and the family. In her strong voice, she expressed the kindness and character of her beloved husband. “What do we do now,” she asked. “His sudden death took the community by surprise. He was healthy and vibrant one moment and then gone.”

Memorial tributes are to either St. Sarkis Armenian Church or the Armenian Tree Project. Arrangements were in the care of Simon Javizian Funeral Directors. Internet condolences for the family can be e-mailed to Sjavizian@att.net.

It is with great sadness this column has been written in remembrance of Dr. Vahagn Agbabian, the quiet, smiling, kindly Armenian patriot and true Vanetsi. He was a humble man, unconcerned with money or fame

Those who worked with him or were his patients said: “We will miss this person who always personified caring and class”; “It was less like going to a doctor, and more like visiting a friend”; “I know he is being greeted by scores of grateful souls who he helped in the past”; “I continued to be his patient even though I had to travel from New York”; and “He was the heart beat and rhythm for so many patients and staff. He made me aspire to be a better nurse.”

This is one of those times we must let go of someone so pure of heart. The beautiful crystal chandelier over the dining table in their home, which he himself picked out and purchased, will remain as a shining beacon of light, a reminder of the dear and generous doctor everyone admired.

Dear Doctor Vahagn, thank you for getting me through months of pain and immobility with your advice, supplements, and the caring of Mary Jo as well. I will forever be grateful for that and for having known a physician who understands the true meaning of being a healer. All the words of love and adulation spoken at your farewell were deserved by you. May you rest in peace. Your wife and family remain devoted to your memory.

The post Dr. Vahagn Agbabian (1927-2014) appeared first on Armenian Weekly.

Ultimate Armenian Patriot, Consummate Husband, Family Man, Healer, and Physician

This community is stunned by the recent loss of a true Armenian patriot, Dr. Vahagn Agbabian of Bloomfield Hills, Mich., who passed away suddenly at age 86.

Dan Gark services were held Friday evening, May 9, at St. Sarkis Armenian Apostolic Church, followed by funeral services there on Saturday morning, May 10. Officiating clergy was Rev. Fr. Hrant Kevorkian. Dr. and Mrs. Agbabian had been members of St. Sarkis Church for more than 50 years, and their children attended the Sunday School program.

Dr. Agbabian was the father of Vahan (Julie) Agbabian, Dr. Vartan Agbabian, Joanne Anahid (Glen) Black, and Aram Agbabian. He was the loving grandfather of Ani Elizabeth, Alexander Vahan, Loren Anahid, and Alexandra Tamar. He was the devoted son of the late Vagharsh (from Van) and Noemi (from Bardizag) Agbabian, and dearest brother of Suzanne (Edward) Derbabian. He leaves behind many nieces, nephews, relatives, and friends. Although born in America, the good doctor was a proud and devoted Vanetsi.

The sanctuary was filled with Armenians from throughout the community, as well as the doctor’s professional colleagues and adoring patients. The kindly physician was described as “ecumenical” by Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian, Pastor Emeritus of the local Armenian Congregational Church, whose Dan Gark service tribute to Dr. Agbabian was overwhelmingly sincere; had his words not been spoken in church, it would have deserved a round of applause. The Agbabians were remembered that day as generous givers to anything representing Armenia and Armenians.

Dr. Agbabian’s Hoke Jash had the elegant touch of the Agbabian family. Without exception, his adoring wife of 52 years, Mary Jo (Wonacott) Agbabian, made sure that every detail of the funeral was carried out with the love and care her husband demonstrated throughout his whole life. She is deservedly described as “More Armenian than most Armenians.” Together, husband and wife traveled several times to Armenia, Karabagh, Lebanon, and Syria.

His daughter, Joann Anahid Black, perhaps put it best when she said tearfully, “He always took care of the needs of others first, never himself.” That was a common thread describing Dr. Vahagn Agbabian by all who spoke about him over the two days, when the community came together to pay respect and tribute to the very quiet, always smiling gentleman.

Son Vahan said, “I think it will take the four of us to fulfill all that he did.”

One friend said, “He was one in a million or two.” Another said, “I have known and worked with the doctor for 43 years at Pontiac Osteopathic Hospital. All of us nurses loved him and his sweet smile. He loved his patients and would always listen to them. He was 20 years ahead of his time as far as his medicine went. Other doctors now agree with him.”

Dr. Agbabian was born in Detroit and attended Wayne State, where he received his B.S. in pharmacy in 1950. He then attended Chicago College of Osteopathic Medicine, and interned at the Detroit Osteopathic Hospital in Highland Park. He continued his education in Dayton, Ohio, at Grandview Hospital, graduating with a degree in internal medicine in 1960.

He was on staff as an internist at the Pontiac Osteopathic Hospital (POH) for more than 50 years. He practiced internal medicine, integrative and holistic medicine, and clinical nutrition in his private practice, in conjunction with his staff position at POH. He took part in continuing medical education in his field, allowing him to practice very progressively and effectively with his patients, combining a caring, compassionate, and loving approach. It was not unusual for him to phone patients at home to inquire about their care.

Dr. Agbabian loved to read everything in his field, and particularly anything Armenian. Husband and wife were always at Armenian lectures and book talks, where it was assured he would purchase the author’s book. He had one of the largest personal collections of Armenian books. He loved the church, Armenian food, history, literature, music, and dance. He was paid tribute by the Tekeyan and Hamazkayin Cultural Association.

His services started and ended with the “Hayr Mer” (The Lord’s Prayer). Rev. Dr. Kevorkian recited requiem prayers for his soul. Assisting Der Hayr were deacons Antranig Karadolian, Khatchig Kafafian, Manoug DerOvagimian, and Simon Javizian. Der Kevorkian intoned, “The dead in Christ will rise again. We believe Jesus died and rose again. Rest him among your saints.”

Dan Gark services were conducted in both English and Armenian. Rev. Dr. Vahan Tootikian said, “He was loved and respected and was a doctor to thousands in his years. Mary Jo, his non-Armenian wife, devoted herself to being a traditional Armenian wife. She was able to say from day one, your people will be my people. He loved with all his heart Armenia and Karabagh, so much that his house became like an Armenian museum with perfectly framed photos, paintings, and sculptors. May his memory be blessed.”

“We feel a deep sense of gratitude. We feel sorrow at the loss of a dear friend. As Christians, his life is not at an end. There is an opening of gates of eternity with the Lord and his departed loved ones. His was a life that enriched the life of many of us.”

Beside his casket were two large flags, that of Armenia and Karabagh, just as in his lovely home. Dr. Agbabian was repeatedly described as a staunch Armenian, a patriot, and a believer in the American way, a man with a pure heart who served as a model as what a genuine Armenian is.

A condolence letter from Antranig Kasbarian on behalf of the Hairenik and the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Central Committee was read, saying the doctor was fiercely patriotic and a Tashnag through and through. Hokejash speakers included Hermine Manoogian, Jack Garboushian, David Terzibashian, Edward Haroutunian, niece Anahid Derbabian, Joann Anahid Black, and sons Vahan, Aram, and Vartan. They emphasized how important their father thought education was.

The doctor’s mission was to save lives, but the most touching tribute to the deceased was by his wife, Mary Jo, who told of his generosity to her and the family. In her strong voice, she expressed the kindness and character of her beloved husband. “What do we do now,” she asked. “His sudden death took the community by surprise. He was healthy and vibrant one moment and then gone.”

Memorial tributes are to either St. Sarkis Armenian Church or the Armenian Tree Project. Arrangements were in the care of Simon Javizian Funeral Directors. Internet condolences for the family can be e-mailed to Sjavizian@att.net.

It is with great sadness this column has been written in remembrance of Dr. Vahagn Agbabian, the quiet, smiling, kindly Armenian patriot and true Vanetsi. He was a humble man, unconcerned with money or fame

Those who worked with him or were his patients said: “We will miss this person who always personified caring and class”; “It was less like going to a doctor, and more like visiting a friend”; “I know he is being greeted by scores of grateful souls who he helped in the past”; “I continued to be his patient even though I had to travel from New York”; and “He was the heart beat and rhythm for so many patients and staff. He made me aspire to be a better nurse.”

This is one of those times we must let go of someone so pure of heart. The beautiful crystal chandelier over the dining table in their home, which he himself picked out and purchased, will remain as a shining beacon of light, a reminder of the dear and generous doctor everyone admired.

Dear Doctor Vahagn, thank you for getting me through months of pain and immobility with your advice, supplements, and the caring of Mary Jo as well. I will forever be grateful for that and for having known a physician who understands the true meaning of being a healer. All the words of love and adulation spoken at your farewell were deserved by you. May you rest in peace. Your wife and family remain devoted to your memory.

The post Dr. Vahagn Agbabian (1927-2014) appeared first on Armenian Weekly.