The Song of My Heart

by Nora Aharonian

Overview

This inspirational book is for those who love nature and gardening; and for those who enjoy listening to the beautiful songs of the birds. My garden is a symbol of love for my parents and the legacy they left for my family and me. For me, the garden conveys a connection with nature and my childhood. I have unforgettable memories. It also symbolizes my love for my parents and appreciation for the legacy they left behind. They are with me in my glorious garden all the time. Our home in Armenia was adorned with beautiful flowers that glowed and glittered under the golden beams of the sun. So is my garden, in a secret corner of my Los Angeles backyard. This book also refers to the mother-daughter relationship. With both sweet and sorrowful tears, I dedicated this book to my dearest daughter, Anoush. Knowing her own family story, Anoush would know where she came from and where she is heading. My book also embraces those who immigrated to the United States from other countries. It is about parents, grandparents, children, and grandchildren. It is about five generations living together in the twenty-first century in harmony. It is an interesting, exciting, and fulfilling opportunity for each generation to live together and learn from each other. It speaks of family relationships mainly concentrates on mother-daughter and father-daughter relationships. The family legacy continues in those families where relationships are clear and clean, there is mutual respect for each other, and positive approaches are used to deal with family issues. In these families, nobody is alone. They solve their problems together.   It pulls in precepts from educators as well. It clearly shows how the community and schools effect our children’s development.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781504329194
Publisher:	Balboa Press
Publication date:	03/19/2015
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	186
File size:	3 MB

Read an Excerpt

The Song of My Heart

My Parents' Views and Recollections ... Their Lives Their Dreams Their Lessons

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By Nora Aharonian

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2015 Nora Aharonian
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-2918-7

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CHAPTER 1

Part 1

The Song of My Heart

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Armenians are one of the most ancient peoples of the South Caucasus. They lived in that region for three thousand years. During the nineteenth century, the Armenians were the largest non-Muslim population in the Ottoman Empire and remained so until 1915.

Armenians living in Turkey were seeking a better life for themselves. They sought political and social reforms for all cultures living in Turkey, which included the Greeks, Turks, and others at that time. The Armenian Genocide, also known as the Armenian Holocaust or Armenian Massacre, took place during WWI. It started in April, 1915 and ended approximately in 1922. Armenians acknowledged the Great Crime as Medz Yegern.

In September 1922, Mustafa Kemal, the revolutionary ruler of Turkey, led his troops into Smyrna (now Izmir). Izmir was predominantly a Christian city. Turkish forces set fire to and completely destroyed Izmir. That destruction was recognized as the first genocide of the twentieth century. Two million Armenians living in Turkey were driven from the historic homeland they had occupied for nearly three thousand years. Two million Armenians were eliminated through forced deportation and massacre. Those men, women, and children who survived the torture and killings were outcast into the deserts of Syria many miles away. Countless people died from starvation.

As Armenian poet Paruyr Sevak writes in his poem "We Are Few but We Are Called Armenians": "Simply our plight has been so different. Simply we have shed too much blood. When we were forced to leave our own land ... however, we are! We will be! And we will become many. We are called Armenians" (this quote has been translated into English by the author).

Deportations and killings took place in many cities in Turkey, including Izmir, the land of my father's birth. Izmir was a large metropolis in the western extremity of Turkey.

My father, Hambartzoum Aharonian, was born on September 14, 1898, in Izmir, and was raised in a loving Armenian household. His parents, Hakop and Nardouhi Aharonian, bore three children: sisters Takuhi and Noemi; and a brother, Avertis. Through no fault of their own, love, care, and respect in Hambartzoum's family was short-lived. The family would suffer an unfortunate, tragic collapse. Hambartzoum's parents and his brother were massacred in the Armenian Genocide of 1922. The family home was completely torched. Hambartzoum, Noemi, and Takuhi were forced to witness the brutal murders.

My father and his two sisters, along with the many Armenians and Greeks, fled to Greece. They, along with so many others, had a long and miserable journey full of fear, dread, and horror. When they finally arrived on the shores of Greece, there was immediate relief. As guests, they were met with great hospitality and kindness. There, Hambartzoum worked and took care of his two sisters until the sisters married.

My mother, Takuhi Ter-Hovsepian (Armenian: "Taquhi-queen", the "queen" of our family, was born in 1900 in Gallipoli, Turkey. The name Gallipoli comes from the Greek word kallipolis, meaning beautiful city. Takuhi lived there with her parents, her brother, and her sister. Her father was a businessman, and the family lived in abundance. During the Armenian Genocide, her father was killed, so Takuhi, her mother, and siblings fled to Greece with the rest of the Armenian families.

In 1922, after the Izmir massacres, approximately one hundred thousand Armenians and hundreds of thousands of Greeks found shelter in Greece. My parents were grieved after the Armenian Genocide. After living in Greece for twenty-five years, both families were able to create better conditions for themselves and their families.

However, in 1939, Italian troops occupied Albania. From there, the Italians attacked Greece. Ioannis Metaxas was a Greek general and politician. He served as prime minister of Greece from 1936 to 1941. He asked the Greek people to fight for their independence. In response to his call, hundreds and thousands of men and women volunteered. Armenians volunteered too. The Hellenic army was very strong and was able to push the invaders back into Albania.

The German army took advantage of the situation and attacked Greece. Hitler devised a plan to send his own forces to overcome Greece in April 1941. Nazis captured some of the most important regions, including Athens, where my parents had lived for twenty-five years. Greece and its people suffered greatly during the occupation.

After the war ended, my father decided to get married. He met a beautiful and kind lady. She was Vartuhi, the only daughter of her beloved mother. The couple married and enjoyed happiness for a season. Through all their hard work and struggles, they remained optimistic. Everything seemed to be in good order. They became accustomed to their new traditions and were able to create a wonderful life for themselves. They were basically content in Greece. However, they both had a cherished dream to leave Greece and return to their motherland, Armenia. With benevolent and cordial feelings, they said good-bye to the people who had shown them compassion and respect. Flowing in high hopes and beautiful dreams, they departed for Armenia.

Migration to the Dream Land

Hambartzoum had continued to nurture his dream of migrating back to Armenia, his homeland. His goal was to build a new home, cultivate a memorable garden, and taste his homegrown fruits. He imagined the smell of perfume from his own glorious flowers. He longed to drink the frost-cold crystalline water of his native country.

In 1947, the love of his motherland was heavy on his heart. With deep faith in his soul, Hambartzoum and Vartuhi migrated back to Armenia. My father's sisters and their families migrated from Greece as well. In fact, my father had a very close cousin, Azatuhi, who migrated with her husband and four children.

During these difficult days, they were all together, supporting each other with love and affection. Life in Armenia after WWII was not easy. Bear in mind that Armenia went through WWI also. At that time, Armenia was part of the Soviet Union. The government of the USSR made public its decision to permit repatriation of the Armenians.

From 1945 to 1947, almost ninety thousand Armenians were repatriated: thirty-two thousand from Lebanon and Syria; twenty-one thousand from Iran; eighteen thousand from Greece; and fifty-three thousand from Europe. It was quite challenging for the country to have such an enormous number of immigrants following WWII. In addition to this, the Armenians already living in Armenia were under dire economic and social conditions.

In 1949, Vartuhi gave birth to a beautiful daughter, Nora (me), who brought the family new light and joy. Unfortunately, my mother died from a sickness that was incurable at that time. Seven months after being born, I was left without a mother. After her death, my father and I remained alone. It was as if loneliness was his destiny. As I grew up, I used to hear my father's words of sympathy about lonely people. Most of these people had lived through both wars and had lost their family members. My father would often invite some of his lonely friends to our house to feed them and converse with them. They would share experiences about the wars. Of course most of the stories they shared were painfully sad. Well, did my father understand aloneness, since he had lived in loneliness most of his life? He sure did. He invited friends to visit us again and again. The guests would leave our house with pleasant smiles, always promising to return. They sincerely appreciated my father's company.

As Dostoyevsky says in his book White Nights and Other Stories, "May you be forever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and graceful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life?" This means one who has a graceful heart and serves others joy and happiness without expecting anything in return is the most gracious human being. My father was. Unfortunately, I have seen few people in my life who belong in this category.

My father's cousin Azatuhi was repeatedly blessed by my father and me. As kin, we supported her with open hearts. In return, Azatuhi was there to comfort my father and me during our difficult times. Before I was born, my parents rented a house close to Azatuhi. At that time, my father was constructing our house. When my mother passed away, my father moved into Azatuhi's house to live with her and her family. Since my father could not take care of me alone, Azatuhi stepped up to assist. She found a mother who had just birthed a child. The mother nursed her baby girl, of course, but, interestingly, she allowed me to nurse from her breast as well.

When our house was ready, my father left Azatuhi's house with great gratitude. Later in his life, he often remembered Azatuhi as the most compassionate and loving cousin.

Some years later, this same cousin convinced my father to remarry. She knew a child needed a mother. My father married Takuhi Ter-Hovsepian. He saw the wisdom in what French philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau stated in his book Emil: "Where there is no mother, there is no child."

The well-known twentieth-century Armenian novelist Vahan Totovents, expressed the following philosophy: "The mother is the eternal evergreen, everlasting song. It is the golden tree grown on the earth's blue field."

Takuhi became a good mother to me, and I loved her very much. I guess it is true.

My parents' gorgeous home and heavenly beautiful garden in Armenia, in the city of Marash.

You have given breath to every flower, every tree, and every vine. Your garden is full of joy and mirth. It blooms in delight as in paradise Where everything is in bliss ...

We lived in one of the most beautiful cities in Yerevan, Marash. Yerevan is the capital of Armenia. The main inhabitants of Marash were patriotic immigrant Armenians who came from all around the world after WWII and willingly lived in the city. It was named after the old Armenian city of Marash, in Turkey, where mostly Armenians lived until 1915.

However, the inhabitants who lived in Marash, in Armenia, after 1945 were very proud of their city. It was spread across high hills. Our home and garden were located in these gorgeous hills. Our garden was the foundation of my parents' creative minds and the song of their hearts. My parents owned their home.

Dr. Minas Kojayan, the author of "On The Paths of a Grieving Past," visited old Armenian regions in Turkey several years ago. It was a pilgrimage to historical Armenia. When he arrived in Marash, he was surprised seeing the town completely destroyed. Before the Armenian Genocide in 1915, Marash was a beautiful city. Armenians lived and flourished the city with their schools and churches.

City of Marash in Armenia, became a wonderland after WWII thanks to the hard work of patriotic Armenians, including my parents' hard work. Inhabitants of Marash turned their city into a paradise and were very proud of it. As you read about our house, my dear readers, you may sincerely see it with the words described below, and feel it with your heart.

Our house was not very large. It was modest but had all the conveniences a family needed. It was built with red brick and had an elegant look. It had a medium-size dining room, a guest room, and two bedrooms (one for my parents and another for me). We had a kitchen and a bathroom with a shower. The rooms were furnished but modest, with matching furniture. The furnishings were simple yet beautiful. The delicate curtains matched the colors of the walls in each room. The tablecloth, the bed covers, and the sheets featuring embroidery were handmade by my mother. Even the edges of the pillow cases displayed embroidery. I adored and appreciated the handiwork done by my mother. Her desire to maintain and adorn our home with inspiring colors was her unique gift. The inside and outside of the home were kept spotless, and again, colors abounded. The same could be said about the family garden.

We had a large balcony that faced the main street. Buses ran along this main street and took residents to the center of the city, Yerevan, in ten minutes.

The exterior of the house was adorned with beautiful flowers that glittered under the golden beams of the sun. The beautiful flowers that surrounded the home made an amazingly charming garden. The garden was cultivated by both parents. Gardening was their true passion; it was symbolic of their love. They knew how to enrich the soil and grow the flowers. Most importantly, everything in the garden was done with affection and pleasure. This miraculous garden was the result of my parents' hard work, creative imagination, and gracious hearts. The garden was quilted with bright and colorful delicate roses, glittering asters, shimmering chrysanthemums, several gorgeous fruit trees, and a big divine vineyard. The flower banks were arranged in bright, magical tones, where the eyes were dazzled by innumerous living colors. The most prized possession in the garden was the vineyard, which claimed the attention of many admirers. People admired the enchanting garden in awe. The flowers' heavenly perfume spread everywhere in the garden. The garden reflected my parents' delicacy and emotions.

As American poet Stanley Kunitz asserts, "What you plant in the garden reflects your own sensibility, your concept of beauty, your sense of form. Every true garden is an imaginative construct, after all."

My father was a builder, but when he retired, he became a magnanimous gardener His heart belonged to nature. He took pride in preserving his garden. He was well informed and knowledgeable about harmonizing the colors of flowers and trees. Most importantly, he knew how to grow a healthy garden.

After retiring, my parents devoted themselves to nurturing their beautiful and miraculous garden. "Our garden is the foundation of our creative minds and the song of our hearts," my father used to say when the conversation turned to their garden.

My mother, on the other hand, would assert, "If you work with your heart and loving mind, the simple soil will turn into a paradise."

Their garden was indeed a paradise, a human creation, a reflection of their secret dreams and accomplishments. Throughout their stay on the land, they brought innumerable trucks of soil up to this place on the hill to enrich its rocky earth. Finally, it turned into a ravishing, glorious, and enchanting garden. It formed a tapestry of life and creativity.

My parents were well known for giving special care to the growth and development of each flower and tree in their garden. In addition, they had planted seeds of hope and dreams in their gracious garden.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Song of My Heart by Nora Aharonian. Copyright © 2015 Nora Aharonian. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Acknowledgments, xv,
Preface, xix,
Part 1 The Song of My Heart,
My parents' gorgeous home and heavenly beautiful garden in Armenia, 8,
Golden Memories, 16,
Education in Soviet Armenia in the 1950s, '60s, and '70s, 23,
The Influence of Mother, 26,
My Mother's Rose Petal Preserves, 30,
Nostalgia, 34,
Nature in My Soul, 35,
Our Mulberry Tree, 38,
The School I Attended, 41,
From the Landscape of My Memory, 43,
Life at the University, 44,
Multicultural and Multilingual I Am, 45,
My Husband, Al, and His Family Background, 47,
Our Marriage, Al and Me, 48,
Anoush's Childhood in Armenia, 53,
Anoush and Me in Grandparents' Paradise, 55,
Farewell to the Motherland, 59,
Part 2 We All Learn from Pain Armenians in America,
Armenian Culture: Living in the United States of America, 67,
Five Generations Living Together Struggling to Understand Each Other, 69,
The Armenian Family Then and Now, 77,
Narcissism, 78,
The Armenian Mother's Role in the Family, 80,
Characteristics of the Armenian Man and Father, 86,
Father-Daughter Relationships, 91,
Suggestions for Our Fathers and Children, 93,
Stings of Remorse, 96,
True Love, Sincerity, and Understanding Will Keep the Family Together, 99,
Mother-Daughter Relationships, 101,
Mother's Heart: What Is the Limit?, 108,
Suggestions, 110,
Why Do Children Become Indifferent and Disrespectful toward Their Parents?, 113,
American Public Schools Today, 116,
Human versus Inhuman Education, 121,
The Fish Smells from the Head, 121,
My Aspiration as a Caring and Loving Educator and Counselor, 123,
Vanishing Traditions, Respect, Remorse, and Mercy, 126,
Part 3 My Parents' Life in the United States: Rich and Honorable Life,
Three Generations Living under the Same Roof, 131,
At My Father's Grave, 133,
Anoush Thanks Her Grandparents for Their Love, 135,
My Parents' Legacy Continues Our Relationship with Our Relatives, 136,
Toros and Maro live under the same roof for fifty-four years, 138,
My Parents' Legacy for My Garden, 140,
Part 4 Our Odyssey Mother and Daughter Forever!,
Originality, Simplicity, True Love, and Creativity Are the Foundations for Creating This Book, 144,
Mother and Daughter Forever, 145,
The Joy of Being a Mother and Raising a Moral Child in an Immoral World, 146,
My Daughter and Me: The Bittersweet, 153,
Is it a Generation Gap or a Generation Choice?, 155,
My Advice to My Dearest Daughter and to Those Who Might Benefit from It, 157,
Bibliography, 159,
About the Author, 163,