When I started grammar school in 1929, I spoke English as though I had just gotten off 
the boat.  My older brothers and sisters weren’t as lucky; when they started school, they 
didn’t speak any English at all.  


Fist fights were a common experiences during those early school years.  Because of our 
ethnic traits, my brothers and I were constantly defending our honor.  We frequently came 
home with bloody noses or black eyes, but that didn’t disturb Mom as much as a torn 
shirt or trousers.  Growing up Armenian during those early years was no picnic.


As for our home life, everyone spoke Armenian because the older people didn’t speak 
much English.  On Sundays, we would all walk to church.  After services, we would run 
around the church hall while the older people stood around and talked.  Occasionally, we 
would visit other families unannounced and occasionally they would visit us.  It was 
amazing how spontaneous and happy those early experiences were.


Since my parents came from Western Armenian, there was some Turkish influence in our 
culture.  As children, we were never aware of this influence, nor were we criticized for it.  
Our parents never restricted us in our choice of Armenian music or dance; they 
acknowledged everything we did with encouragement.  They never intimidated, 
subjugated, or tried to restrict us within a prescribed boundary of Armenian culture 
purism.  We not only enjoyed what we were, but we were also a very important part of 
what we enjoyed.


The early Armenian immigrants labored hard and they always shared with other 
Armenians who were less fortunate.  But, in spite of the hardships they endured, they still 
managed to provide for their families.  Though the Turks had tried mercilessly to 
butchered the Armenian nation out of existence, it had taken root again in my childhood 
home as well as many other immigrant Armenian homes throughout America.


As with all things, time passes and things change.  We find ourselves distances from our 
early past.  We have changed from being "full-time Armenians" to "part-time 
Armenians."  The transition has been so painless and subtle that many of us do not realize 
or acknowledge it.   This is called, "assimilation."  Try the following on for size:


-  As "part-time Armenians," we support only those organizations or institutions that fall 
within the sphere of influence we grew up in.   


-  We belong to organizations and work on committees next to people we’ve known all 
our lives yet our children are strangers.


-  Our American side believes in democracy while our Armenian side accepts whatever 
our Armenian hierarchy dictates.


-  We go to church on Christmas and Easter yet we don’t understand the liturgy.


-  We proudly acknowledge we’re Armenian, but we know very little about our past.


-  We get angry when our children say they don’t want to go to church.  We exonerate 
ourselves by blaming their attitude on television and outside influences.


-  We donate money to American politicians and feel adequately compensated if they use 
"Armenian" or "genocide" in their speeches or if we get some sort of worthless paper 
proclamation in return.


--  When disharmony manifests itself in our inter-communal relations, we are quick to 
blame the "other side."


--  We love big banquets and benefits.  Though it does very little to help a given cause, it 
always gives us a sense of importance and accomplishment.


--  When we visit friends, relatives, or attend social function, we eat, drink, dance, and we 
occasionally get into heated discussions about our Armenian politics and our Armenian 
future.  Yet, we quickly forget about it after the discussion ends.


-- We get up on Monday mornings and go to work knowing it would take a strong united 
effort to slow down assimilation, but we feel powerless to do anything about it.   So we’re 
content to let someone else worry about it.


Well, there you have it.  We are the same people who stepped off the Ark thousands of 
years ago -- took on the entire ancient world and survived -- became the first to accept 
Christianity as a nation -- endured six bloody centuries of Ottoman subjugation, while 
here in America it is all we can do to hold on to our declining Armenian identity.  

The way I see it, we have two choices.  We can continue part-time as we have and wait 
for destiny to settle the problem or -- we can try to help shape our destiny by putting in a 
little more "Armenian" time.  This choice is ours -- it always was.   


Joseph Vosbikian