I have been three different people at three different points in my life. I am half Armenian and on the surface that means my part time job is grooming my eyebrows and wishing away Kim Kardashian/talking about her more than I would ever admit. Beyond that I can't say I know a whole lot about my heritage. My Armenian father was an artist and Argentinian transport living and working in Los Angeles. There he met my Oklahoma-bred mother who was thirteen years his junior.
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| My father |
My sister Rebecca was born after their courthouse wedding. Soon after, my father developed throat cancer and unknowingly his time left on earth was limited. I am the the product of the last intimate moment my parents shared as his cancer became more aggressive and his health worsened. To type that is both weird (in a TMI kind of way) and very touching. He lived to see my birth but passed when I was still an infant.
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| Rebecca, my parents and that sweet ride |
I know he spoke five languages, loved to cook and was unwavering in his christian faith. I know him through stories, his art work and hand written messages to my mother when he could no longer speak. He would ask that I be put at the foot of his bed so that he could watch me.
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| Etched ivory drawing |
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| Plans for a stained glass window |
My favorite story my mom tells is that of my birth. Maybe it's because it's all about me or maybe it's because my entrance into this world was so dramatic.
I don't know that my storytelling ability is exactly accurate but this is how I remember my mom telling it...
My mom was on the phone with my grandmother who lived in Tulsa, OK. They were chatting late one evening when my mom saw a mouse run across the kitchen floor. As she was trying to get off the phone to take care of the "situation" she saw an army of ants marching across that same floor in dedicated formation. She rushed to get off of the phone and at the end of her pregnancy found herself crouching down to rain poison on that ant parade. It was then that she went into labor. To get to the hospital meant packing up Rebecca and getting her to the babysitter's house across the city. During the commotion my father decided that he wanted to go to the hospital as well. My mom was having close contractions by this time and now had to pack up my father. He was frail and thin and by now had great difficulty maneuvering on his own. My mom was able to get both him and Rebecca into their van with all the accouterments needed for a one and a half year old and an ailing man. My parents lived in a small house behind a larger, main house. Once all in the car she realized the neighbors were parked behind them blocking the street. Being very late and realizing the neighbors were probably asleep my mom knocked with the urgency of a pregnant lady in the midst of labor. This family of three, soon to be four, was on their way. They dropped off Rebecca and headed to the hospital. With worries of not making the trip they arrived just in time. My mom got a wheelchair for my father and told the front desk that she was actually in labor. With one push I came into this world and at the same time my father fainted from weakness. He was also admitted to the hospital. We laid side by side in our hospital beds in the same room. The thought of that sweet picture makes my heart smile. My mom returned home to the same line up of dead ants, a mouse in a trap, a toddler, a new born and a sick husband.
My father, who wanted us to grow up calling him papa, wanted to name me Sirdanoush, meaning "sweetheart" in Armenian. My mother fought for a more suitable name for a girl being raised in America. So the decision was made and I was given the name Anna (pronounced like "Ana") Sirdanoush Garabedian. So now we are here, in the present and Sirdanoush "sweetheart," was the catalyst for the name of this here blog. One of my closest friends, Lindsey, thought up the name and the rest is history.
My mom remarried and the man who courageously took on three women was Randy Bohon. He adopted my sister and I and raised us as his own. My name changed to Anna Sirdanoush Garabedian-Bohon. Fast forwarded many years and I married one Michael Chapman and dropped two of my four names, becoming Anna Sirdanoush Chapman.
I've visited my Armenian family in Buenos Aires once as an infant after my papa's passing and once as an adult right after high school. To know there are relatives living their lives in another country has always been hard for me to wrap my head around. Thanks to social media I have small glimpses into their lives but have always longed for more. I spent some time learning a few Armenian recipes in hopes of a connection. I will share these in upcoming posts.
It's hard not to fantasize about what my life would have been like if cancer had not taken my papa so early in life. I had a great childhood and was raised my the only man I call dad. Sometimes I feel something missing but more than that I have a desire to learn more about my culture. Now that we've addressed all the serious stuff I can get back to being hilarious. (Yes, I just said that about myself.) I have obviously been affected by all of this and have very low self esteem...
Next time we connect will be over some delicious food!
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