As time passes, our lifestyles and environments change.  Even the basic values that we 
used to live by are also in the rapid process of change.   It is, therefore, important that we 
reassess our present-day values to see how much we’ve distanced ourselves from our 
past.


During the nineteenth century the large cities in America abounded in homes that were 
three or more stories high.  And the term "stories," as it applied to the existing levels of 
these homes, suggested that each level represented a different story or generation.


During my early years, for example, it wasn’t uncommon to see three generations 
(grandparents, parents, and children) all living together in a multistory home as a closely 
bonded family.  And if any member of the family was infirmed due to age or sickness, 
they were never put in convalescent or old age homes.  There always seemed to be 
enough help available in the family to properly care for such an individual.  Families 
shared all of their joys, all of their sorrows, and all of their burdens.


The surviving grandparents were the matriarchs and patriarchs of the family---a living 
bridge from the past to the present.  The parents, on the other hand, provided the 
economic stability and strength, and the children, as they grew, were witness to the 
coming of the new and the passing of the old.  But while the older generations survived, 
they were also fortunate enough to learn from the revered experiences of both 
grandparents and parents---a living educational upbringing that could not be duplicated in 
any of the classrooms or computer programs that exist today.


As for brothers and sisters, I was fortunate to have three brothers and three sisters.  Being 
the youngest brother at the time, I was never in doubt of my older brothers being there 
when and if I needed their help with a neighborhood bully.  Moreover, being the youngest 
(my brother Peter hadn’t been born yet), I had the most clothes to wear since I got all of 
the ‘hand-me-downs’ that my older brothers outgrew.   I suppose that’s where the custom 
of  holding someone’s coat before a street fight came from.  I know, because I used to 
always wind up holding the coats of my older brothers before a street fight.   And, I 
suppose, my holding the coats had a selfish motive. It was not as much out of need to 
give my older brothers more freedom of movement as much as it was to keep their coats 
from being torn in the fray since I would be the one who would probably wind up wearing 
it.


As I look back on those bygone years, I feel fortunate to have been a part of it.  But on the 
other hand, I also feel saddened by the fact that our newer generations will never see it.



Most of our generations today live in separate worlds---the grandparents in theirs, the 
parents in theirs, and the children in theirs.  It’s a plastic world made up of credit cards, 
installment plans, condos, apartments, TV dinners, throwaways, and last but not least, 
less faith.


I suppose this is what motivated me toward wanting to see our Armenian Apostolic 
churches reunited.  Not as much for the purpose of strengthening our faith, which goes 
without saying, but for the purpose of bringing back some of the old family values that 
we’ve lost.  And in that regard, let me also say that building more divided churches is not 
the answer either.  Because if it were the answer, we wouldn’t find our youth and our 
Armenian future so unevenly distributed.  But church unity could have been a starting 
point toward cultivating programs targeting our youth and our future.  And at the risk of 
being blasphemous, I would also venture to say that building  united community centers 
would probably help to bring our youth and communities much closer together than 
building more divided churches.


Joseph Vosbikian