Family Memorabilia: My Mother's 1986 Sketch

The Christmas rush is over - we finished baking cookies; visiting with family and wrapping gifts; I have settled down and am back at going through family keepsakes, pictures, family history and other various memorabilia.  I found this sketch and it reminded me of my old homework folders that my mother drew pictures on for us.  I wish I had kept some of them.

My mother used to draw on our school folders that we put our homework in.  She would sketch Disney characters or other fanciful stuff to brighten our day.  She was good at it.  I think about it now and it makes me smile.

"War is God's Way of Teaching Americans Geography"

My mom in Syria 1967

My mother in Deir al-Zur

 All the current news regarding Syria, ISIS, the terrorist attacks in France, has our attention.  But it's not a very good attention.  This article gives a clear picture of the demographics of Syria - a safe haven for my grandparents and my mother during the Armenian massacres/genocide in Turkey circa 1915.  It is heartbreaking for me to see what has been happening there and particularly to the Armenian population, largely ignored by Western media.

Michael Izady's Detailed Map of Ethnicity in Syria and the Syrian Armenians

In 1915 my grandparents were forced to leave their ancestral home in Eastern Turkey and sent into the direction of the desert.  At some point they were able to find safe haven in Syria, but not without great cost in human lives, including several of their children and my grandfather's parents.  Whole families were lost on what they called the death march.

The author of the article says this about the Armenians that eventually built thriving communities in Syria:

  As Izady’s maps show, Armenian communities are scattered through several parts of Syria. One of the largest Armenian communities is found in the eastern Syrian city of Deir al-Zur (alternatively Deir ez-Zor, Deir Ezzor, Deir Al-Zor, Dayr Al-Zawr, Der Ezzor), a settlement of more than 200,000 inhabitants that is noted for its oil-refineries and other industries. Deir al-Zur is particularly important in Armenian history, as it was one of the main destinations of Armenians expelled by the Ottoman Empire during World War I, a deadly process regarded by most historians of the issue as genocidal in nature. Deir al-Zur is also located near the core power-base of the so-called Islamic State (or ISIS). As a result, the Armenian communities of the region are highly threatened.

Source: http://www.geocurrents.info/cultural-geography/michael-izadys-amazingly-detailed-map-ethnicity-syria-syrian-armenians#ixzz3sQotzDiG

This has been on an ongoing tragedy for several years now.  I have been watching from my comfortable seat while my heart breaks and I feel helpless.  The world watches as journalists are beheaded, Israel is bombed from Syria, governments break down, Christians are beheaded in Egypt and we sit silent while the Jihadists' plans unfold accordingly.

The article goes on to lament the attacks on the Christian Armenians in Syria:

The city of Deir al-Zur did gain brief attention in late September after ISIS militants destroyed a prominent Armenian Church as well as an Armenian Memorial to the ethnic expulsions of the early twentieth century, prompting widespread international condemnation. Armenian sources, however, expressed disappointment that the official response from the United States “failed to either mention the very reason for this holy site’s existence, the Armenian Genocide…”

Source: http://www.geocurrents.info/cultural-geography/michael-izadys-amazingly-detailed-map-ethnicity-syria-syrian-armenians#ixzz3sQqUsMWx

I'm not sure, but I believe my mother visited this church on a pilgrimage she took in 1967 to visit relatives in Syria and other countries of the region where Armenians had been scattered.

http://www.armenia.com.au/news/Armenia-News/English/46918/Forty-Martyrs-Armenian-church-in-Aleppo-destroyed

This article is from last year - I hoped that we would wake up, but I'm not sure we will:

http://www.armradio.am/en/2014/11/11/destruction-of-armenian-church-in-deir-el-zour-a-savage-blow-that-echoes-through-armenian-history/

If you have time, read the articles, they are an eye opener.

Today's Excursion to Balsam Meadow

 Today we took a short ride to our nearby forest - about 20 minutes away.  It was initially quite disturbing to see all the dead trees.  I have never seen so many.  Our drought has caused the trees to be so dry that the bark beetle has taken over and killed many of our pine trees. These are not pictures of fall colored trees, these are dead trees.

 However, we made it to our destination and a winter wonderland opened up to us.  In our tennis shoes, we hiked the 2 1/2 mi. through the snow to a small lake created by a hydro utility company, sending electricity down to Southern California.  We were rewarded with beautiful vistas as the sun was setting and sparkled on the lake and snow.

Some of the pictures I got on my camera phone.  I had fun enjoying the light and dark that was playing out with the sun setting.

We stopped for dinner at a bar and grill near the lake

The place is actually a snow park but there wasn't a lot of snow as it has warmed up the past few days.  But it was enough to keep us cool and add to the beauty.

On our way home we stopped in a local pub to have dinner so we wouldn't need to worry about it later.  I loved the way they decorated and as an avid photographer, I also enjoyed their displayed photographs (which they sold, naturally) of the scenery in the area.


I'm still recovering from my surgery, but it was good to get out and hike again.  Can't wait for my hair to finish growing out.

My dad - Corporal, United States Army 1943-1945

My dad - Corporal in the United States Army, Pacific Theater, Philippines and Papua New Guinea, 1943-1945.  He was assigned to 24th Quartermaster Company.

He was nick-named short pockets because he stood barely 5 ft. 2 in. and weighed 110 lbs at the time he entered the military.  He suffered greatly during his time in the Philippines and New Guinea.  Not only did he fall ill to malaria and anemia, we heard stories of battle such as one time when he and other soldiers were pinned down in a house in the Philippines and only he and one other fellow who played dead survived.  We saw pictures of him holding a Japanese head in his hands wherein the governor of the Philippines offered a bounty.  When he returned from the war, he stowed his machete that apparently was used to chop off a Japanese soldier's head, with his brother as he wanted no part of it.

He told my brother that he shook General MacArthur's hand and idolized him.  This is very likely true because MacArthur returned to the island of Leyte in 1944 where my father was. http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/macarthur-returns   MacArthur had been told to leave and left behind 90,000 American and Filipino soldiers much to the general's dismay.  The island of Leyte is where MacArthur had been forced to flee from and where he had vowed to return and return he did. It must have been to my father's great relief.

By the time I was born my father rarely recounted any of his war stories, but I saw the pictures.  I also treasured the jewelry he made out of sea shells he collected in the Philippines.  What else does a soldier do far away from home?  I try to imagine what it was like in Papua New Guinea in 1943.

Interestingly, my dad never spoke ill of any other creed or race.  He was kind to the other Japanese farmers he worked with here in the Central Valley.  Many came to his funeral.  In his heart, he was a peaceful man.

Picture of a Japanese troop - maybe my father found it in a fallen Japanese soldier's pocket

WWII Japanese leaflet

Back of the leaflet

Cranial Surgery - My Story

Getting love from a therapy dog after surgery

It seems that I have taken a hiatus from writing for a couple of months.  Cranial surgery will do that to you.  A few years ago I was diagnosed with a meningioma.  A benign brain tumor.  I had gone in for an MRI due to some dizzy spells I was having (they had nothing to do with the tumor) and that's when they discovered it.  It wasn't good news but all the medical professionals said it was slow growing, benign, and not to worry.  It hadn't grown enough to affect me. So every year I would get an MRI to check on it.  This last year it had grown 1/2 an inch and they promptly sent me to a neurosurgeon.  There I was given a couple of choices but I really had only one choice it seemed - remove it.

I didn't tell my friends or family because I didn't want them to worry and I knew they would.  I scheduled the surgery for October 13th and I told my family about a month before.  And yes, all Hell broke loose, as they say.  Two daughters came to stay with me and take care of me after surgery (Thank Heaven for Little Girls).  They really were a God-send.

5:30 a.m., everyone in the waiting room

It's been about 4 weeks since surgery and I'm finally beginning to feel like myself again.  Recovery was rougher than I imagined it to be, but I think it's always that way.  I gained a new-found respect for all those who have to endure these kind of surgeries.  I also am impressed with our medical professionals and all the advances in medicine that have been made.  Thanks to recent advances in MRIs, they can pinpoint the exact location of the tumor and do not have to poke around looking for it.  I'm sure that cut back recovery time.

In short, this has been my explanation of my sudden absence this last month.  I have returned.

To the right is a picture of me with two of my daughters and my daughter-in-law.  My first outing after surgery last month.  Part of my hair was shaved, hence the scarf.

Yes! Sultan in UAE Fixing History Books

More recognition:

Interesting tidbit here on the ancient city of Julfar - now in the UAE - was founded by Armenians who were on the run from Persia during the Mongol invasion.  There is still a heavy presence of Armenians in the UAE

http://www.peopleofar.com/2014/11/11/the-city-of-ras-al-khaimah-was-founded-by-armenians/

 http://www.peopleofar.com/wp-content/uploads/ras-al-khaimah-in-the-emirates-2.jpg

They Published My Story!

Thanks to 100 lives, they published my story which I wrote about the steps, the tragedies and the efforts of goodhearted people that enabled my mother and my grandparents to escape to America.

https://100lives.com/en/stories/detail/regular/7578/shirley-collins

1928 France

 The picture shows 1928 France: these are the two Bardakjian brothers who looked after my mother, my grandmother and my uncle while my grandfather went to America to find a job and a home.  Unfortunately, my uncle could not get a quota because he was born in Jerusalem and it took four years before my grandmother finally relented and left him with his cousins while she and my mother went on the boat without him.  My mother cried the whole trip across the sea.  It would be another 6 months before my uncle was able to join the rest of the family in Philadelphia.

This is why I always thank the Bardakjian family for taking such good care of my family so many years ago.

Another Attic Treasure

I found these among my mother's things after she passed away.  Apparently, my grandmother must have picked them up on a trip she took to then Communist Armenia in 1963:

Commemorative pins and key chains

On the bottom are vintage pins made in 1962 for celebrating the 1600th Anniversary of the Armenian Alphabet created by St. Mesrop Mashtots years 362-1962. 

In the middle is a vintage lapel pin with the map of Armenia and «ՀՍՍՀ» means Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic.

The key chains have the picture of "Vardan Mamikonian" and his sword on the back.  He is a national hero, it is in memory of "avarayri herosamart" which happened in 451 A.D. Vardan was a commander and a warrior who was killed in the battle but Armenians believe they won the battle because the king of Sassanid Persia wanted to make them change their religion and he failed doing that, the Persians were victorious in battlefield, the battle is proved to be a strategic victory for Armenia.  https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Avarayr

My grandmother's visa to Communist Armenia 1963

Today's checklist - check, check, half-check

I accomplished two things today:

1) I started a flickr account and posted a few of my favorite pics:

Picture on Flickr

2) I submitted a story to Chicken Soup for the Soul.  http://www.chickensoup.com/story-submissions/submit-your-story

3) I tried to go outside but the heat and the smoke drove me back in, blah!

Left is a picture of me my daughter took while I was taking pictures of the flowers on her cactus plant.

Camp Oddo and Armenian Refugees

Nansen Passport: My mother and grandmother

My mother, my grandparents, my uncle, and my auntie I never met, were refugees in the 1920s.  They were forced to leave their home which was at one time Western Armenia.  When they ended up in France they stayed in Camp Oddo initially and were issued Nansen passports.  Those were, basically, humanitarian passports given to those without a country.

Today I found out there is a cooperative website that lists my family at Camp Oddo.  I got chills reading their names.  My mother would talk about the camp and her memories of it as a little girl.  She remembered lots of tents, that it smelled and was dirty.

Even little Marie Guleserian who fell ill and supposedly died in France is listed. They are listed on page 37.

http://webaram.com/

ARAM is an acronym and stands for: 

 Association for Research and Archiving of the Armenian Memories

What an incredible effort and thank goodness for the information highway.

It saddens me though when I hear daily of new refugees flooding out of Syria and even Lebanon due to religious bigotry and intolerance, violence and hatred.  Sadly, only recently, a small family drowned trying to get to Greece so they could eventually travel to Canada. They had no identification issued by the government.  Once again, man's inhumanity to man strikes anew.

#HetchHetchyHypocrites

I just received the following email from my congressman and I have to post it here.  It's very annoying to me that we here in the Central Valley of California are being shortchanged so that those living in the Bay area, particularly San Francisco, remain comfortable.  It's time people spoke up about it.

While our lawns are dying and farmers are plowing under their crops, the San Francisco and coastal communities continue to plunder the reservoir in Yosemite with no restrictions attached.

A recent UC Davis study projected the costs of the California water crisis this year. The researchers found:

·         The net water shortage will be 2.5 million acre-feet in 2015.
·         In response, farmers will fallow 542,000 acres of land.
·         The crisis will cost the California economy $2.74 billion this year, with the loss of 21,000 jobs.

The study finds that California agriculture is faring better than many predicted. Some areas are suffering much more than others, however. As the researchers previously noted, “The impacts are concentrated mostly in the San Joaquin Valley.”

For decades, elites in the Bay Area, which is a primary support base for many radical environmental groups, have successfully fought to divert huge amounts of Delta water from Central Valley families and communities to environmental causes. Meanwhile, the Bay Area’s own water supply is not subject to these diversions. San Francisco and other coastal communities enjoy an uninterrupted water supply piped in across the state from the Hetch Hetchy reservoir in Yosemite National Park. As Valley farmers fallow their dried up land, take a look at Hetch Hetchy – these photos were sent to my office by a Valley farmer who visited Yosemite last month:   

 

It’s quite amazing how much water the Bay Area has kept for itself by exempting Hetch Hetchy from the punishing water regulations it has foisted on the Central Valley.  

Let’s see if we can draw the Bay Area’s attention. If you have pictures of Hetch Hetchy brimming with water, please post them on your social media accounts with the hashtag #HetchHetchyHypocrites.

Sincerely,

Devin Nunes

MEMBER OF CONGRESS

Losing Someone is Never Easy

One of my husband's coworkers, a fellow teacher, passed away suddenly a few days before school started and a shock wave went through our small community.  I wrote down a few thoughts about these tragedies.

 An end-of-the-year 2014 picture of Bill Gardenhire (or Mr. "G" as they called him) 

and my husband with one of their students.

Mr. "G" in his end of the year Wizard costume, a student, and my husband hidden in his spacesuit costume

Whenever one of my adult children would call to tell me the devastating news of one of their young friends tragically passing away, so sudden and shocking, I would try and come up with some words of wisdom and/or comforting words for them.  

Usually my first words would be, “life is so fragile,” and it truly is.  We are just one heartbeat away from leaving this life, our earthly bodies, and so many that we love and cherish; so much that we want to do and see; so much life yet to live.  I would tell my children to treasure these days and hug those whom they are near.  

It is a nasty reminder that everything must come to an end one day, even our own lives.  It is also a reminder to be close to the ones you love; to live a reality that one day may be all you have.  This sense of urgency and closeness washes over us.  

When my mother was dying of cancer she received a phone call from one of her friends.  What horrible news her friend said, how awful it all is.  My mother exclaimed, “Why?  I have lived a full life; I have done many things that I have enjoyed; I have a wonderful family.  Why be unhappy?”

Even in the end she was so positive.  Will I be that way, I wonder?

Whenever someone close passes away, I always have these same thoughts.  I don’t know what other comforting words there are or any words of wisdom that haven’t already been said or repeated.

Then I am reminded of another story my mother loved to tell.  She had just lost her father and the next day she got the news that her second grandson had been born, my first born.  She was thrilled and she would say – “When one life passes and lights the sky, another is born.”  Life continues on.  “For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face.”  I Cor. 13:12

I can already see Mr. G’s huge smile lighting the skies.

Summer Fun 2015

Sadly, we leave our summer home tomorrow morning.  Our working vacation is over and now we return to the real world, at least for the time being.  Here are a few good-bye happy-times pictures:

Tie-dyed T-shirts hanging to dry

I caught these campers hanging their newly made tie-dyed T-shirts from Wishon Village's Saturday activity.

My last campfire

I cleaned up around the RV and made my last campfire for the season.

A little frog who liked to inhabit the bathroom showers during our daily clean up chores.

Ta-Ta - until next time

Amazing Wooden Door

It's sad to see one's heritage pillaged and looted:

AMAZING WOODEN DOOR--to many; and a painful history for many others.

Armenian handmade art work, this door dated 1312 A.D. used to be the door of the Sourp Garabed Church in the Armenian City of Mush - Western Armenia. Present day Turkey.

Currently, the door is part of a private collection in Canada. As to how and why, a piece of the Armenian National Treasures, was looted - sold and bought ...?

In the year 1976 The German Artist Rikhter buys the door from his Turkish neighbor who had it in his position. A year prior, the Turkish neighbor had discovered the door in a neighborhood populated by Kurds in Mush, and had the door transported to Istanbul. Once in Rikhter's posession, he arranges for the door to be transported to Germany with the help of his connections at the German Embassy in Istanbul.... however, in 1996, after Richter passed away The Armenian Historic Sourp Garabed Church door showed up at an Auction in London and sold for $50000. The rest is history....