Life In America

Sometimes when I’m sitting in my car behind a red light, I marvel at the orderly way life is going on around me. Cars stop at the red light, they continue driving at the green light, pedestrians cross the street at their white light, at least 2 airplanes are in the sky in high altitude and almost daily I see a plane either take off or land due to a local airport.  I see people going around doing their business.  There is nothing exciting going on, its pretty calm and quiet. You hardly ever hear a car horn here. The sky is blue and maybe a few puffy clouds are drifting by. This makes me feel blissful and safe, I’m never afraid for my life nor do I worry about theft of my possessions. I get my mail around the same time every day, the Gardner comes every Thursday and the pool man shows up every Saturday.  

You would think this is utopia, but no, it’s just life in America. 

Because of having Atlantic Ocean in the East and the Pacific Ocean on the west and two friendly neighbors in its North and south borders America is insulated from war, famine, drought violent revolutions, displaced people, and epidemics. Where at the same time there are so many countries at war, there has been blood shed and destruction of whole cities, great number of people have been displaced from their homes and have been forced to leave their country to be safe. 

There are still countries around the world dealing with famine.

America looks great from afar, in movies, music videos, the internet and Google Earth.

But the reality is far from those images. Here are some facts about life in the U.S.A.

• Every day 310 people are shot ,from those 100 die, every day 21children and teens (1-17) are shot and 4 die from gun violence. 

• In 2017  47,173 people in America committed suicide that’s 129 per day on the average. 

• In America 40 million people lived in poverty in 2017, and 41 million people faced huger.

• In 2018 the population of homeless people had reached to 553,000.00 The largest, most populous and glamorous cities have the worst homeless problem. New York City is number one, then Los Angeles, Seattle, San Diego, San Francisco in that order have the largest number of homeless people.

• The American Criminal Justice system was holding 2.3 million people in prisons. 

• Thirty million people in America can’t red or write, that is 14% of the population. 

•   Racism, LGBDQ phobia and discrimination are alive and thriving.  

Of course despite all of these problems I still prefer to live in America.  Always there are large number of people around the country working to solve these problems and find solutions.  Compare to some other countries individuals here have more freedom and rights. 

TICK-TOCK TICK-TOCK TIMES UP

A long long time ago, when I was still reading fairy tales, this one story made such an impression on me that I still remember it. My memory is not as good as it used to be, so if I remember correctly either a step mother or an old witch would lock this girl up in a dark room and give her a large coil of different color yarn and told her to untangle them by color. I have always thought that would be the worst torture or punishment for anyone let alone a little girl.  

Well, this is how I feel about my life sometimes, actually all the time.  I feel I’m holding hundreds of balloons in my hand and I need to keep them but its very difficult to hold on to all of them without letting go of some. I never know which ones I should keep. Should I chose green or the red one? Like someone untrained to defuse a bomb, who isn’t sure which wire to pull, the blue or the red?  I don’t know why I feel this way but I do. Sometimes I feel like my body is being pulled in different directions and its disorienting and painful.  Sometimes I think it has to do with being a woman. Most women could be, at the same time a wife, a mother, a daughter, a daughter in law, a sister, a grandmother, a friend , a nurse, a physiologist, an accountant, a manager,  a cooke  or a  maid.  Think about it, this is how most women's lives are. I’m not talking about balancing a home life and a career, I am talking about having to change your hat three thousand times a day. Well,  maybe not three thousand times but 10 times but it’s still very difficult. 

While joggling  all these roles a woman must also look good, be healthy, be athletic, be engaged, be informed, be able to talk about art and politics.  Yes I know some women can do this with their eyes closed while balancing on one foot and texting, but not me.  

For me, all my roles are important, all the people who are dependent on me are important, keeping a household running in good order is important, being healthy is important, being a good mother and grand mother is important, my self expression is important. But all of these things take time and time is running out tick-tock tick-tock.  And one day you become aware you’r done, you did all you could but the sense of satisfaction is not there, you feel that you failed but it’s too late to go back and fix things.  After living a life of uncertainty and doubt things are clear as to what’s important and what’s not but alas it's too late.  

Dead Love

I didn’t feel like an orphan when my father died, I still had my mother.  Then my mother died and I still didn’t feel like an orphan.  I had my older sisters, my older brother and my younger brother. Some of them were near and some were far, nonetheless I had them all with me at all times. They were woven into my life in such an intricate and complex pattern I felt their presence, warmth and love no matter how alone I was. In my consciousness I would always have them, understood them and love them.  I never thought that anything could change that, no distance or separation, no marriage not even children could tear us apart.  We were an old carpet of shared memories, precious moments, traditions, values and love. 

When you are busy living your life, you don’t recognize and take note of things that are tearing your family apart. You don’t have the time or any reason to suspect any such thing. You don’t notice the loosen threads in the rug, the tiny holes that are visible to the naked eye, you don’t notice all the subtle signs and warnings that are telling you if things continue this way you won’t have a family anymore, you won't have the warm and fuzzy feeling that you feel now towards your family nor would they feel about you. 

And life is passing by, sometimes like a summer breeze and sometimes like a winter blizzard. There are marriages, children, in-laws, divorces, deaths, all that makes life life is happening to all of us. 

One day long after loosing both my parents, having relationship disasters with all my siblings, their husband or wives and their children, long after I stopped my relationship with a brother and sister, after loosing my older brother, long after that, one day I felt orphaned. It crushed me like an iceberg, I suddenly felt utterly alone. I had no one, no parents, no brothers or sisters.  That was the day my love died and I knew I would never have what I had lost. 

In a large family things tend to get out of hand, people become extremely emotional. Little jabs and insults brushed away in real time become infected sores.  Large and small insults and injuries are never properly dealt with so they fester. Everyone has their share of problems and misfortunes to deal with. People become selfish and self centered. Sometimes people change radically so even family members can’t recognize them.  There is so much blame that everyone shares a good deal. I don’t think a team of psychologists and psychiatrists could help a large family with such old problems, such complex relationships or strong personalities. 

So after I realized that I’m completely alone and I no longer have a real family it became time to decide if I’m going to continue pretending, or drop all pretexts and just cut all ties?

I don’t know, I will think long and hard before I decide, but it’s very difficult to be in this predicament. 

Random Memories, Baking Bread

When I was a child and lived in a small town in Iran, a few times a year my mom would hire two Iranian women who were bread bakers.  In our courtyard we had a special room just for that purpose. In one corner of the room there was an earth oven for baking the bread. Above the oven on the ceiling there was an opening for the smoke to escape. 
The earth oven was very common all over Iran and possibly other Middle Eastern countries for baking the flat bread called Lavash both in Armenian and in Farsi (the  language that Iranians speak). 

The women would arrive late afternoon wearing their long black chadores or hijab the garment that Muslim woman were required to wear.  As children we didn't talk to them and I probably didn't speak Farsi well enough yet. But we were in awe because making bread was an arduous and time consuming job. They would make a massive amount of dough in a large ceramic tub and cover it with layers of tablecloth. The bread had to "sleep" overnight and rise to be ready to be backed the next morning.  

By the time we woke up they were already hard at work.  They would take a mound of dough and put it on a round low table and flatten it with their wooden rolling pins and make the circle larger and larger. Then they would switch their rolling pins and pick up the long and slender rolling pin to make their large circle much thiner.  They did this by trowing the large dough through the air several times much like what is done to a pizza dough.  When they had reached the desired thickness or in this instance thinness they would drape the thin dough on a round fat pillow and would bend down into the hot oven and slap the dough on the oven wall.  

The wood burning earth oven had to be started very early in the morning and the flames had to have died down leaving only the red and orange embers.  After they slapped the dough inside the oven they had to watch it closely because it didn't take long for the dough to bubble up and bake to a golden colored bread. If they didn't remove it on time it would drop to the bottom of the oven and be ruined which happened sometimes.  

My sisters, cousins and I would be sitting on the age of all the table clothes that were covering the floor and we would watch them do all those things in wonderment. The women would throw the hot flat breads on the table clothes surrounding them when they pulled the bread out of the oven with a metal hook.  We were not allowed to touch or eat the bread until they were totally finished but that was very hard to do because the freshly baked bread smelled amazing.  They would only allow us to eat the ones that had fallen to the bottom of the oven and were partially burnt. We didn't't mind at all because the bread still smelled and tasted wonderful. 

Backing the bread would take all day so my mother would serve the ladies lunch and tea. At the end of the day beside paying them she would also give them some of the bread that they had baked so diligently. By then all the flat bread were cooled down and dry so my mother would pile them on top of each other wrap them in tablecloths and store them in earthen vats She would share the bread with my uncle's family and a cousins's family who lived near us. 

This is one sweet memory from my childhood. 

Withering

         December 2018                January 2002

I exfoliated my face,  applied a fine moisturizer, applied green coverup to stabilize the red spots, I used yellow coverup to banish under eye blues, I used lavender coverup for yellowish skin. Then I contoured my face using brown makeup for around my face and under my cheekbones and to slenderize my nose. I tried to make my eyes smoky yet bright by applying eye shadows.  I used a generous amount of mascara to lengthen my lashes.  Last but not least I lined my lips with a colored pencil that matched my lip color. I chose a natural color lipstick and applied and blotted and reapplied.  I checked my whole face again in a mirror that magnifies 10 times for any mistakes or stray lash.  To me I looked fine much better than without makeup. But then I took a few selfies and the harsh reality become apparent.  

I just looked like an older version of myself with a lot of makeup. Nothing but nothing will bring my youthful beauty back. When I was young I didn’t believe I was pretty but looking at old photos I see that I was wrong. 

Well Maybe in another life I will appreciate what I have. 

Random Memories of My Childhood

My Grandfather Yeprem Amirian


Two minutes ago I thought it a splendid idea to write down some of my childhood memories and immediately I thought what for? Or who cares? I don’t know, maybe I do and maybe I want to write them down before I forget them completely. I don’t dwell on the past or want to revisit the events it’s just bitter sweet to think of them sometimes.

My paternal grandfather died before I was 4 years old and my younger brother wasn’t born yet so I don’t remember him much I only have this one memory. 

I opened the door and stood there in the beam of light, I didn’t go towards where my grandfather was sitting behind a low square table covered with  thick blankets.  I don’t remember being scared, I don’t remember why I had gone to his room maybe I had just stumbled upon his door by mistake. He was just sitting there staring into the void. He didn’t call out to me so I just left. He was a slightly bald white haired man with a kind face. We have a photo of him smiling with twinkling eyes and thats how I remember him.  My older sisters have lots of fond memories of him. They told me that returning from the market he would bring them fresh fruits and he always had nuts and raisins in his coat pockets and would give it to them when asked.  He lived with us most of his life and I was told my mom loved him and took good care of him. I have heard from family that he lived to be 106 years old. After his death my little brother was born and as custom he was named after my grandfather, Yeprem.  To this day my younger brother is called babik meaning grandpa in Armenian.

Before I started preschool I spent my days home with my mom. If she was cooking I would be with her in the kitchen, I would go with her to the market for groceries.  She would even take me to see her friends for coffee.  When I was little and I  would get sick I really believed just by staying home and having my mom’s chicken soup got me all better.  I also remember that if we had something more than a simple cold she would take us to the family doctor.  Back then it seams for every ailment there was a shot and like most kids I hated them but with mom it was oaky.  I remember in elementary school every September she would make me a new school uniform and crotchet a beautiful white color and a little handkerchief.  She also made knitted swathers for me and my sisters every winter. I remember two that I liked very much, a light blue one and one that was the color of spaghetti. She was an awesome mom.

I don’t know why but I have more memories of my father. Maybe because for me he was larger than life, maybe because he was away so much that I always missed him, maybe because he was so kind or because he loved books and was always reading.  As soon as summer would start and I could read books with no interruptions or worries about homework, I would ask for his recommendations on books I should read and he was more than happy to comply.  Sometimes he would take us on the of spur of the moment to short trips and in the car we would sing for him all the songs we knew. When I started to wear makeup if he noticed, he would tell me that I was beautiful even with no make up on. That is something all girls need to hear from their father.  He would bring all of us gifts, candy and fruits of the season by the crate when he came home from his trips and that made us very happy.  My dad loved people and he would bring guests home coming from work and surprise and anger my mom because she would have to scramble to make more food.  Once when a delegation of a youth group came to visit our town he invited all 150 of them to our house impromptu.  He asked my mom to serve cheese and bread and he brought out jugs of home made wine. Naturally we all had a blast.  

I have many many recollections of my 7 sisters and 2 brothers, celebrations, fights, dates, parties, a life time of memories that would make a large volume, maybe another time. 

Christmas And The River

I told him I wasn’t going to celebrate Christmas, specifically that I wasn’t going to have a Christmas tree in the house. He asked why, my answer was that I was in mourning and I wasn’t celebrating anything for one year.  Besides I said I’m an atheist why would I celebrate the birth of a person I don’t believe in. I told him Christmas is very much commercialized and no one is celebrating for the true meaning and people don’t have Christian values anymore. I know I was going to be asked the same questions from other people and I usually try to be ready for questions from people who may think it unusual for not wanting to celebrate Christmas, a holiday that half the world is probably celebrating in December. 

So I got on my favorite answer guru Google and asked the burning questions I wanted answers for.  I wanted to know why and when Christmas was celebrated, where did it start, who invented Santa cause, who thought of the Christmas tree and the stockings hung by the chimney?  Not that anyone remembers why December 25 is celebrated but most people think that is the day Jesus was borne. Not so, even religious scholars don’t know exactly when he was born. Maybe in March? It was mentioned somewhere, so it was decided that December 25 is a good day because it coincided with an important pagan holiday and the newly converted Christians wouldn’t complain too much.  But many Christians around the world celebrate Epiphany on January 6 and it’s also called Three Kings Day and the day of Jesus’ baptism. 

The Man Behind the Story of Father Christmas/Santa Claus. St. Nicholas was a Bishop who lived in the fourth century in a place called Myra in Asia Minor (now called Turkey). He was a very rich man because his parents died when he was young and left him a lot of money. He is said to bring gifts to the homes of well-behaved ("good" or "nice") children on Christmas Eve. This European Santa or Father Winter used to be a tall and slender fella but then at the beginning of the 1930s, as the growing Coca-Cola company was looking for ways to increase sales of their product during winter they turned to a talented commercial illustrator named Haddon Sundblom, who created a series of memorable drawings that associated the figure of a larger than life, red-and-white garbed Santa Claus with Coca-Cola and the slogan “The Pause That Refreshes”.

(Google)

Germany is credited with starting the Christmas tree tradition as we now know it in the 16th century when devout Christians brought decorated trees into their homes. Some built Christmas pyramids of wood and decorated them with evergreens and candles if wood was scarce. (History)

What does Christmas tree symbolize? In 2004, Pope John Paul called the Christmas tree a symbol of Christ. This very ancient custom, he said, exalts the value of life, as in winter what is evergreen becomes a sign of undying life, and it reminds Christians of the "tree of life" of Genesis 2:9, an image of Christ, the supreme gift of God to humanity.

Christmas tree - Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_tree

One of the main reasons we have the custom of giving and receiving presents at Christmas, is to remind us of the presents given to Jesus by the Wise Men: Frankincense, Gold and Myrrh. whychristmas.com 

As you can see Christmas is a mashup of religion, folklore and tradition handed down from generation to generation and it has become what it is today. A season of spending large amounts of money to have a Christmas tree, to have decorations, to buy gifts not only for  our nice children but for the whole extended family, the kid's teachers, the mailman, the pool man, the gardener and possibly your doctor. I get a headache just thinking about it.   Christmas season that starts right after Thanksgiving is the best money making holiday for retail business owners.  

I did celebrate and enjoyed Christmas when I was a child living with my parents, but I remember it as a time of family gatherings, good food, music and dance and yes one toy for each child. As an adult and when my children were little I tried to have a proper Christmas like everyone else around me. Whenever money was plentiful even though it would be hectic but I didn’t feel much stress, but in tougher times trying to have a proper holiday with all the trimmings was stressful and panic inducing. 

Now when I see my grandchildren delight in everything that Christmas brings them I am very happy.  They love to have a Christmas tree, they love getting gifts from Santa and their parents and grandparents so seeing their happiness and excitement gives me immense pleasure. 

He thought for some time and then he said "Just enjoy the season for what it is and don't overanalyze it, to enjoy the river you don’t need to know where it originated from and where it may end up just look at it and enjoy the scenery".

So I’m going to do just that and enjoy Christmas regardless of all the above mentioned.

Merry Christmas everyone I hope Santa brings you everything you asked.