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Genocide centennial conjures up ideas
by Tom Vartabedian
Published: Saturday June 29, 2013
Is another march in order for the centennial?.
The thoughts are gushing forth like a fountain with no shutoff valve.
What to do for the 2015 centennial? By now, you may have heard a surge
of recommendations. Or perhaps none at all. But let's face it. With
the centennial barely two years away, some statement should be made.
Please, not a mundane lecture. Certainly not another concert. We could
post a billboard campaign throughout the country. But how many
motorists really look at a billboard and how would it impact them?
An Armenian activist telephoned me the other day to report a novel
idea. Collect 1,000 old, worn shoes and dump them at midnight April
24th in front of the Turkish Embassy in Washington, DC, signifying the
remnants of a death march on Deir Zor.
Another activist proposed this outlandish thought. Let's dump gallons
of red paint into our notable tributaries to signify the River Arax
flowing with the blood of our 1,500 victims.
I don't think such nonsensical acts would create an impression other
than give us a bad name. Let's settle down and become a bit more
rational, folks. I'm suggesting none of those ideas because they will
do nothing to perpetuate our cause.
Of course, we could all gather in Washington or New York and preach to
our own choirs. One day later, where will it get us as a civilization?
What we need, folks, is to bolster our own ranks, put our own house in
order before moving elsewhere.
My suggestion is rather complex but workable. It costs no money, very
little time and initiative, yet has good potential. Let each of us who
might be involved in our Armenian community lure at least one passive
member into our midst.
Go out and recruit an inactive Armenian to join our churches and
organizations. We would double our growth and inculcate new leadership
in our ranks. Greater resources, too.
Not long ago, I was scheduled to present a genocide class at a small
high school north of Boston. It would be my first visit to this
particular school and I was expecting to turn a new leaf in human
rights education.
Rather than go alone, I usually take it upon myself to invite a member
of this community to join me in class. It puts a more local spin on
the presentation.
In this particular case, I chose an Armenian totally removed from the
community. In 40 years, I had never seen this man at any genocide
commemoration or church. He was totally immersed in the American
mainstream, having dedicated his life to teaching and coaching. He was
now in his mid-80s and retired from education.
I called him one night out of sheer impulse and asked him to join me.
Only then did I learn his father was a genocide survivor.
He met me the next day at the school, dressed in a suit and tie with
mixed reservations about the whole matter.
"I don't know what I can contribute to this," he told me. "I don't
know much about Armenian history and the genocide. Maybe I should have
stayed home."
As the discussion gained impetus, I decided to take a break and
introduced my guest. He rose from his seat, told the students that he
lived his entire life in this town, and taught school for 50 years,
even after he formally retired.
He recalled how his dad escaped the pogroms in Turkey while living in
Van and how he became assimilated as an Armenian. The man broke down
as he spoke, sobbing to gain composure. The subject of genocide held a
powerful grip.
The sentiment grew even more profound. I pulled out an interview I had
done with my Armenian School students which is just as relevant today
as it was 35 years ago when I conducted it.
The subject? "If you lived in Armenia today and were told your village
was going to be invaded by Turkey, what single prized possession would
you take while fleeing?"
By sheer coincidence, his two nieces happened to be in this class and
responded to the question. One ultimately operated a restaurant while
the other became a schoolteacher.
"My Armenian cross and books," said one niece. "Because it would
possibly give me and my family good luck."
"I would make sure my family was out of the house," said the other. "I
wouldn't care about anything else."
My guest had become instantly transposed into a new life, even at this
late age. He felt a sudden urge to return to his roots and live out
the rest of his life inside his abandoned heritage.
As we were leaving the school, he proposed a humble request.
"If you're going to the Armenian Church Sunday, do you suppose we
could sit together? I'd like to join you."
http://www.reporter.am/go/article/2013-06-29-genocide-centennial-conjures-up-ideas
by Tom Vartabedian
Published: Saturday June 29, 2013
Is another march in order for the centennial?.
The thoughts are gushing forth like a fountain with no shutoff valve.
What to do for the 2015 centennial? By now, you may have heard a surge
of recommendations. Or perhaps none at all. But let's face it. With
the centennial barely two years away, some statement should be made.
Please, not a mundane lecture. Certainly not another concert. We could
post a billboard campaign throughout the country. But how many
motorists really look at a billboard and how would it impact them?
An Armenian activist telephoned me the other day to report a novel
idea. Collect 1,000 old, worn shoes and dump them at midnight April
24th in front of the Turkish Embassy in Washington, DC, signifying the
remnants of a death march on Deir Zor.
Another activist proposed this outlandish thought. Let's dump gallons
of red paint into our notable tributaries to signify the River Arax
flowing with the blood of our 1,500 victims.
I don't think such nonsensical acts would create an impression other
than give us a bad name. Let's settle down and become a bit more
rational, folks. I'm suggesting none of those ideas because they will
do nothing to perpetuate our cause.
Of course, we could all gather in Washington or New York and preach to
our own choirs. One day later, where will it get us as a civilization?
What we need, folks, is to bolster our own ranks, put our own house in
order before moving elsewhere.
My suggestion is rather complex but workable. It costs no money, very
little time and initiative, yet has good potential. Let each of us who
might be involved in our Armenian community lure at least one passive
member into our midst.
Go out and recruit an inactive Armenian to join our churches and
organizations. We would double our growth and inculcate new leadership
in our ranks. Greater resources, too.
Not long ago, I was scheduled to present a genocide class at a small
high school north of Boston. It would be my first visit to this
particular school and I was expecting to turn a new leaf in human
rights education.
Rather than go alone, I usually take it upon myself to invite a member
of this community to join me in class. It puts a more local spin on
the presentation.
In this particular case, I chose an Armenian totally removed from the
community. In 40 years, I had never seen this man at any genocide
commemoration or church. He was totally immersed in the American
mainstream, having dedicated his life to teaching and coaching. He was
now in his mid-80s and retired from education.
I called him one night out of sheer impulse and asked him to join me.
Only then did I learn his father was a genocide survivor.
He met me the next day at the school, dressed in a suit and tie with
mixed reservations about the whole matter.
"I don't know what I can contribute to this," he told me. "I don't
know much about Armenian history and the genocide. Maybe I should have
stayed home."
As the discussion gained impetus, I decided to take a break and
introduced my guest. He rose from his seat, told the students that he
lived his entire life in this town, and taught school for 50 years,
even after he formally retired.
He recalled how his dad escaped the pogroms in Turkey while living in
Van and how he became assimilated as an Armenian. The man broke down
as he spoke, sobbing to gain composure. The subject of genocide held a
powerful grip.
The sentiment grew even more profound. I pulled out an interview I had
done with my Armenian School students which is just as relevant today
as it was 35 years ago when I conducted it.
The subject? "If you lived in Armenia today and were told your village
was going to be invaded by Turkey, what single prized possession would
you take while fleeing?"
By sheer coincidence, his two nieces happened to be in this class and
responded to the question. One ultimately operated a restaurant while
the other became a schoolteacher.
"My Armenian cross and books," said one niece. "Because it would
possibly give me and my family good luck."
"I would make sure my family was out of the house," said the other. "I
wouldn't care about anything else."
My guest had become instantly transposed into a new life, even at this
late age. He felt a sudden urge to return to his roots and live out
the rest of his life inside his abandoned heritage.
As we were leaving the school, he proposed a humble request.
"If you're going to the Armenian Church Sunday, do you suppose we
could sit together? I'd like to join you."
http://www.reporter.am/go/article/2013-06-29-genocide-centennial-conjures-up-ideas