A friend who recently returned from abroad conveyed that many Armenians in the Diaspora are frustrated and fed-up with the shenanigans of our government. They are tired of hearing about corruption, monopolies, poor governance, rigged elections and an overall lack of vision and policy.
Being sentimental is a way of life for me. I wish I was less temperamental and could place a significant amount of distance between my mental health and my actual life, but I realize this is never going to happen. While it means I wear my heart on my sleeve, I have finally made my peace with this personal characteristic because it also allows me to be open to the splendor of life.
Developing complex models and postulating theories, writing academic papers, organizing high-level conferences and advancing policies to address some of the most pressing issues facing the Armenian nation is typically the method we employ. We discuss and analyze, argue incessantly, lose our composure in the melee of verbal and pseudo-intellectual traffic and usually end up nowhere.
When we were little, our parents used to take us fishing in the summer months. Almost every weekend, we would gather our gear, pack the car and drive two hours north of Toronto to a summer resort area we simply knew as cottage country. We usually stayed at some motel, definitely not five-star but when you’re a kid you don’t notice the less-than-stellar rooms or amenities.
This is how the story (joke) goes… A young man decides to enlist in his country’s armed forces. The commanding officer, wanting to see how prepared the young conscript is for battle asks him a rhetorical question, “You’re on the battlefield and you see two enemy soldiers approaching. What would you do?”
BY MARIA TITIZIAN
We left the now-beloved city of Ani behind, but a secret promise was made to return one day only for her. Spending a few hours in that once majestic Armenian capital currently on Turkish territory was fiercely unfair to its history, heritage and legacy…it warranted days, weeks perhaps even a lifetime of [...]
I went with zero expectations. I was composed and surprisingly calm when we approached the land border crossing between Georgia and Turkey. My heart was not all aflutter, my brain was not in a state of readiness to absorb what I was about to see, there were no butterflies in my stomach. I assumed it would be a life-changing journey, but little did I know that it would take me almost six years to write about the experience. It has been and continues to be a process, both intellectual and spiritual.