Fall 2013 will forever be imprinted in my mind with a melancholic pop song about our enigmatic obsession with the Homeland. In my mind’s eye these days, Arabo Ispiryan’s cinematic music video plays in repeat.
On the edge of this multicultural metropolis, miles shy of the suburban promises of Americana in Orange County, thousands of cars have come to a halt on a massive multilaned interstate in Buena Park. Cars, new and old, foreign and domestic, weave an incomprehensible tale of multicultural harmony in our globalized 21st century.
BY PAUL CHADERJIAN
Once there were and there were not…
Trade winds keep the Tiki lounge overlooking Waikiki breezy and cool. Frozen and blended tropical drinks with rum, strawberries and bananas have made everyone giddy.
“To free and fair elections,” says one of them.
They laugh and drink.
“Wait, wait,” says another. “To the Genocide museum in DC.”
They take another [...]
On this small island in the middle of the Pacific, you’re bound to eventually run into someone you know or run out of land if you just keep going. You’re bound to speak pidgin and start saying ‘howzit’ and ‘bra’ and see the cast and crew of “Hawaii Five-O” in action. Or you may be forced to stare right into the dark eyes of the Armenian Genocide.
Last week, while undergoing a routine check up at a doctor’s office, it hit home that one of the routine questions that doctors’ offices ask is: family history. For many years, I had not paid attention to the family history section. However, this time around, when the doctor asked the questions, I realized that I had a very limited knowledge about my family medical history. I told my doctor, that my family’s past medical history stops with my maternal grandparents.