Tom Brokaw's famous best seller was entitled, "The Greatest Generation."  I would 
like to borrow that title in describing those whom believe were the greatest 
Armenian generation.

During the 1915-1923 genocide of the Armenians, the Ottoman Turks slaughtered an
excess of 1,500,000 of their remaining 3,000,000 Armenian subjects.  This 
horrendous massacre spanning either years was a follow-up of lesser massacres
that took place during the 1894-1896 and 1909.

Among those who survived the 1916 - 1923 massacre, many came to America and
among those that came there wasn't one among them who hadn't witnessed the 
murder of a family member, or members.  And even more tragic, the massicre 
was among people whose lineage in that area went back for thirty centuries.

I can attest to the suffering of these people because I am an offspring of 
Armenian parents who witnessed this carnage.  Fact is, that in all of my 
eighty years, I never met one who escaped without a horrible loss.  In 
reality, they were all in perpetual mourning.

As for those who planned and perpetrated this massive atrocity, about the 
only thing positive they could say about it was that they didn't discriminate. 
The slaughtered every Armenian they could get their hands on.  Even children 
which some witnessed being used for bayonet practice.  And they even went 
to such extremes as raping pregnant women and disembowling them after they 
satisfied their sadistic lust.  And herein lies the crux of why I'm 
classifying these people (nor egoghs) who came to America as "The Greatest 
Armenian Generation."

To begin with, even though they had heard many wonderful things about 
America, they didn't have a clue as to what was in store for them.   They
were penniless, they didn't know the language, and in general, they were 
looked on as "dirty foreigners."

Being proud, they rarely accepted charity and they took whatever menial jobs
that were available at whatever menial wage they were offered.  There were 
no minimum wage laws, there were no fair labor laws and labor unions were 
still 20 - 30 years in the future.

Not knowing English, they fell victim to many racial slurs such as "lousy 
foreigners," and most common, "starving Armenians."  And the only benevolence
in all this was in the fact that due to their ignorance of the English 
language, they often times felt as though they were being complimented. 
However, it did not take them long to catch on, and when they did, only 
God knows how they responded to the offenders in Turkish.  And these 
responses often times included the offender's ancestry, going back to the 
beginning of creation.  These people may have been down, but they weren't 
out.

As a child, I vividly remember how the women would knit shade pulls for 
a penny a pull.  The shade company would supply the metal rings and 
the yarn.  The women would sit around talking and knitting, even at times 
while nursing their newborns.  They would travel to large neighborhood 
markets on trolley to do their weekly shopping.  In Philadelphia, it 
was either the Italian Markets on South Street, or the Jewish Market on 
Marshall Street.  And regardless of whether they bought potatoes or 
onions, they always haggled for the best price.

Meantime, because of the period they were living in, many fell victim 
to the flu epidemic.  Tuberculosis and Pneumonia were also prevalent 
and were listed as the biggest killers of that era.  As for childhood 
illnesses, we all passed through that gauntlet of mumps, measles, 
chicken pox, and scarlet fever, just to name a few.

And as for the younger unmarried men who were still sowing their 
"wild oats," many of them fell victim to venerial disease.  Sulfa 
drugs and Penicillin hadn't been discovered yet.  As for myself, 
I also survived terminal Diphtheria at eighteeen months.  Our 
family doctor had told my parents I wouldn't last the night, so 
they hurridly summonded our priest and had me baptized and given 
last rites, all at the same time.  Fortunately, I survived and to 
this day, I don't have a clue as to why the Good Lord spared me.

I could fill many more pages of the pitfalls of those early 
immigrant days, but looking back it was beyond human endurance and 
it would fill volumes.  And all this on top of the horrors they 
endured at the hands of the Turkish Ottomans.  But, God bless them, 
they did it.  And if I were a betting man, I would bet my life that 
every Armenian new born during that period was named after a loved 
one who had perished at the hands of a Turk.  This in itself is a 
testimony to their indestructible Armenian Christian Character, 
and perhaps why we still hear someone proudly saying, "I am an 
Armenian."

Of course, this wasn't the end of their climb out of oblivian.  
As fact would have it, after learning the laws, the language 
and after clawing their way into the fringe of the mainstream, 
along comes W.W.II and they have to once again sit back and watch 
while their sons and daughters answer the call to arms.

Looking back, I witnessed what these heroic people went through 
to re-establish their desecrated lives.  And living among them, 
I suppose we took these heroic qualities as part of the norm.  I 
witnessed some of their agony, hardships, and suffering.  But 
looking back, I have to also confess that some of my happiest 
moments growing up were during these early years.  And I am 
also certain that most offspring from that period would say the 
same, because they put aside their grief and suffering and took 
every opportunity to make every day they lived days of memorable 
moments and joy.

Today, there were no graves or sites in Turkey marking where 
1,500,000 innocent Armenians perished.  But to this day, it has 
seared the diplomatic hearts and minds of the Turkish government 
who are still in the midst of a century of denial.  And as long 
as their denial continues and there is one Armenian left standing,
of one thing I am certain, that Turkish heart will never heal.  
This is not a threat, it's a fact.

Joseph Vosbikian