Vahe H Apelian
It may seem strange. But that picture of the die-hard fisherman led me write this blog about a memorable moment etched in my memory.
Often times it is the small gestures that leave a lasting impression, not only about the person who rendered it, but also of the people and the things you may associate with the person.
When we were in Cincinnati, we attended Montgomery Baptist Church that later changed its name to Montgomery Community Church. A serendipitous encounter with Gilbert Badeer had led us to the church we ended up attending for the next almost a quarter of century. As to Gilbert Badeer, he is the son of Dr. Henry Badeer, my late uncle Antranig Chalabian’s former boss as the chairman of the physiology department of the American University of Beirut medical school, where my uncle worked until he moved to the U.S. Marie and her mother had met Gilbert the day the movers had the family move from New Jersey. They happened to be, of all places, in a hardware store when Gilbert had approached them and asked teasingly, in what language they are conversing. Then, he had replied to them in the same, leaving them dumbfounded hearing Armenian in Ohio from a blue-eyed person Gilbert is.
At one time, during a social at the church when asked, I let the person know that I come from Beirut, Lebanon, making sure that he heard me say Beirut. It had happened before that when asked, I had only said Lebanon. But eye brows were raised because Lebanon is a fairly well-known town not far from Cincinnati and surely my accent had betrayed my claim to be from Lebanon they mostly knew.
The person with whom I got into conversation, had never been in Lebanon but he spoke highly of the Lebanese He said his former brother-in-law was a Lebanese. Tragically his wife, my recounter’s sister, had died in that accident. A year or two after the tragedy, his former Lebanese brother-in-law, he said, had paid them a visit letting them know that he had met someone whom he intended to marry, but had wanted first tell his deceased wife’s family of his intention and sought their approval and blessing that he will be starting a new phase in his life without their daughter and sister. Needless to say, that he had left an indelible impression on them not only about him but about the Lebanese as well.
***
In Cincinnati, Ohio, Marie and I would hit easy trails. At one time we were hiking along a tributary of the Ohio river. If my recollection serves me well, the trail was known after the legendary Daniel Boone. We had hiked pretty far and I started getting concerned because we appeared to be the only ones along the trail and we had not told anyone else of our hiking plans there. We had stumbled on the trail. As we were just to start heading back when I heard loud voices and a boat came in view with young men on the boat having the time of their lives getting wild and loud with beer bottles in their hands. They also had their fishing lines onto the water as the current swept their boat downstream. We saluted and I shouted “How is the fishing?”. The response I heard has remained etched in my memory. One of them said that they caught a fish but it was not regulation size so they had it released.
Not of regulation size and they had it released in the midst of wilderness where no one would have checked on their fishing haul, had they kept it. It was not a response I expected to hear from them. Yes, I retain favorable impressions of Ohio and its people, and of Steve, of Rick and of Brian, who were David’s friends.
Also, not only Ohio sounds a bit Armenian, but the first Armenian settlement in the U.S., hard to believe, was intended to be in Ohio (see link 1 below). I am also reminded of the saying, “a bad fishing day is always better than a good working day.”
Link 1: Օ՜-Hai-Օ՜ (Օ՜-Հայ-Օ՜)-
Link 2: How did Ohio recognize the Armenian Genocide -
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