I don't remember hosting the Genie Awards. I must have been asleep... :) just kidding. That is amazing Raffi, and I wish I could see it. I hardly think the Academy Awards will offer such an eventful show. Though it would be cool to say a fellow Arsinee won an Oscar. The next time people look at me like I have the weirdest name in the world... I could just throw that at them. :) FYI, just saw Apo in DC and he's good but misses Montreal.
Below 0 degree temperatures are keeping us bitter cold here, so I'm not going out much, but I did just go down to DC for a visit to the parents. My grandmother lives with them and my mother now takes care of her as she can't live alone. Sadly last week she was rushed to the hospital after fainting. My mother was alone at home and could not carry her to bed herself. My Medzmom hasn't been well for years, but now she's so much worse so quickly. She barely recognizes my mother, and official doesn't remember me at all. I give credit to my mother... like many other stubborn Armenian mothers who devote themselves to caring for their parents. My mom doesn't leave her side. She cares for her, feeds her and gives her the best life possible. I remember suggesting to her that she should put her in a home so that my mother could have a life and enjoy it. Now I realize she wouldn't have enjoyed a minute knowing she put her mother in a home. Medzmom may not know what lengths my mother goes through to take care of her, but she certainly is getting the treatment she needs and deserves. Now I know that is what matters to my mom more than anything.
My parents and their siblings often talk of a powerful woman who no one questioned. She had her hand in every organization back in Iran. She ran everything in the community. It was hard to argue with her because she was so head strong, but apparently always right. I see the same thing in my mother... in my sister... and now me. Sometimes I think the gene is a curse, but usually more a blessing. It's nice to think that I picked up so much from my grandmother and her efforts to keep us Armenian and strong did not go to waste. It's more motivation to try harder. I'm positive my knitting abilities were passed on from her as she was the expert back in the days. My mom says she knit in her sleep. I'll get there I'm sure.
My other grandmother lives in Glendale with her own apartment (where she often moves her furniture by herself when she gets bored) and just visited me in Armenia because she refuses to accept there is anything in this world she isn't capable of doing. OOOOO LORD she's tough. Her tale goes back to marrying my grandfather who escaped Van during the genocide and they lived in Iraq, had three kids (including my pops) and when my grandfather passed away, she forced her way through the border back to Iran to rejoin her family. I have some tough blood running through me. Don't we all. With what our grandparents went through, if they didn't have the strength, they never would have survived.
Moral of the story: I think sometimes we forget just who our grandparents were before they became "the elderly." When I see my grandmother at home barely alive, I like to look at her with the memories of who she once was. I've learned quite a bit about myself in the process. When I look at my other grandmother, I just get tired watching her mind race... and giggle with pride that she's mine.
Below 0 degree temperatures are keeping us bitter cold here, so I'm not going out much, but I did just go down to DC for a visit to the parents. My grandmother lives with them and my mother now takes care of her as she can't live alone. Sadly last week she was rushed to the hospital after fainting. My mother was alone at home and could not carry her to bed herself. My Medzmom hasn't been well for years, but now she's so much worse so quickly. She barely recognizes my mother, and official doesn't remember me at all. I give credit to my mother... like many other stubborn Armenian mothers who devote themselves to caring for their parents. My mom doesn't leave her side. She cares for her, feeds her and gives her the best life possible. I remember suggesting to her that she should put her in a home so that my mother could have a life and enjoy it. Now I realize she wouldn't have enjoyed a minute knowing she put her mother in a home. Medzmom may not know what lengths my mother goes through to take care of her, but she certainly is getting the treatment she needs and deserves. Now I know that is what matters to my mom more than anything.
My parents and their siblings often talk of a powerful woman who no one questioned. She had her hand in every organization back in Iran. She ran everything in the community. It was hard to argue with her because she was so head strong, but apparently always right. I see the same thing in my mother... in my sister... and now me. Sometimes I think the gene is a curse, but usually more a blessing. It's nice to think that I picked up so much from my grandmother and her efforts to keep us Armenian and strong did not go to waste. It's more motivation to try harder. I'm positive my knitting abilities were passed on from her as she was the expert back in the days. My mom says she knit in her sleep. I'll get there I'm sure.
My other grandmother lives in Glendale with her own apartment (where she often moves her furniture by herself when she gets bored) and just visited me in Armenia because she refuses to accept there is anything in this world she isn't capable of doing. OOOOO LORD she's tough. Her tale goes back to marrying my grandfather who escaped Van during the genocide and they lived in Iraq, had three kids (including my pops) and when my grandfather passed away, she forced her way through the border back to Iran to rejoin her family. I have some tough blood running through me. Don't we all. With what our grandparents went through, if they didn't have the strength, they never would have survived.
Moral of the story: I think sometimes we forget just who our grandparents were before they became "the elderly." When I see my grandmother at home barely alive, I like to look at her with the memories of who she once was. I've learned quite a bit about myself in the process. When I look at my other grandmother, I just get tired watching her mind race... and giggle with pride that she's mine.
posted by Arsineh at 4:09 AM
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