February 2017: Anniversary Letter

The lobby of The Dearborn Inn

     It has been 13 years for this letter. Until last two years, I was really good at writing a monthly letter. Let’s atribute it to a dedication to my teaching position that surprised even me… and that is a good thing.

     In 2017, I would really like to get back into the daily writing and monthly letter topic. Yes, you could call it a New Year’s resolution. Wish me luck.
    

     January 7: While this is my February letter, I began writing it on January 7. Here’s why.
     It is 7:40 am. The time doesn’t really matter, except that I may be like many other writers, simply more lucid in the early hours. The time doesn’t matter as much as the place does this morning.
     I am at the Dearbron Inn.
     I am in the lobbly of the Dearborn Inn sitting at the same desk where on July 20, 2002 I sat and wrote my daily page. I had started my daily writing of one page on June 25th of that same year. As written in several previous letters, I had the notion to chronicle my 50th year with insights, humor, and a transformation to a much better physical and mental human. I was 26 days into that regimen. The chronicle, which was to be a best selling book, is, in theory, still pending.
     I remember that morning because up until then, it was the most beautiful location in which I did my daily writing. Perviously, I had written at home, on the train to Manhattan, or in a coffee shop in Manhattan. Being in the lovely lobby of the Dearborn Inn that morning led me to want to write in beautiful lobbies of classic hotels. Sitting here today has me thinking the same thoughts. 

Desk in the lobby of The Dearborn Inn

     While I was handwriting my page that morning in July 2002, I remember thinking that I should always write in the lobby of a grand hotel when I could. At that time, I was travelling a lot for Colgate. I also travelled throughout Latin America, often stayin in Inter-Continental Hotels which fit the bill nicely. When I was not traveling, I was in Manhattan. Well… there were certainly grand hotels there including the Waldorf Astoria right across from my office and an Inter-Continental just two blocks away. It was a grand idea to write my life changing great books in the lobbies of great hotels.
     I never got the same feeling that I felt in the Dearborn Inn that July morning in 2002. Perhaps, it was the location in the heart of the Ford country. I mean Henry Ford was sternly gazing over my shoulder from his portrait that was above the fireplace. Maybe it was, a mere stone’s throw from Body and Electric Engineering where I had my first grown-up job.
     Alas… it really only brought me to this reflection. It is, however, a good reflection. It really matters not where one writes, it is the routine and relative comfort in the location. I love my home library. It s a great place to write. The coffee is probably even tastier and most certainly cheapter at home. The ambient noise, early in the morning, is more controllable at home. There was a lady vacuuming here when I first began. I hate vacuum cleaner noise if I am trying to write. Actually, I hate vacuum cleaner noise if I am doing anything other than doing the vacuuming myself.
     The desk? Well, the desk here at the Dearborn Inn is a lovely cherry Hepplewhite partner’s desk. It is an antique while my desk at home is nice, it is Bombay not antique. The biggest difference at home is that I, sadly, let the desk and workspace get cluttered. I have a resolution to prevent that from happening moving forward, let’s see how that resolution works. Here the desk only had a lamp on it. It was a pleasure to sit down, pull out my laptop, put on my reading glasses, and get to writing.
     What brought me to the Dearborn Inn that July Saturday morning in 2002?
     I was here, then, visiting my parents, as I was living in Connecticut. The AYF Junior Olympics was that weekend at Dearborn High School. I had arranged to meet my old and dear friend Bob Jones at the Inn for breakfast. He loved having what he called a “fat breakfast” at the Ten Eyck Room in the Dearborn Inn. I got up early and arrived an hour early for our 8 am breakfast. It was a sunny Detroit summer morning. I arrived early with the intent of writing, just as I am doing this morning. I found this desk by the window in the front of the hotel. I really enjoyed writing in the lobby of the Dearborn Inn. It is a beautiful lobby in a grand hotel.
     Knowing that the Dearborn Inn, now a Marriott hotel, underwent a major renovation, I was wondering if the lobby would look the same and if the desk would still be here. As the Inn is a classic hotel, Marriott updated things that needed updating, no doubt behind the scenes and in the rooms, but kept the essential spirit of the place the same. I was delighted to see the desk in the same location that I recalled. I was even more delighted to experience the same feel as I did fifteen years earlier. In fact given the passage of time, it was no mere feel, it was a magic I felt in that place and at that desk.
     What brings me here today?
     We are here for a wedding. Haig Berberian and Melanie Topouzian. Haig is from Boston and Melanie is from Detroit. It is really cold, like single digit lows. They are having their wedding on the same day as Melanie’s parents twenty something years ago. We are delighted to be here and be part of the festivities. It is the first time staying at the Dearborn Inn.
     It was a true nostalgic pleasure writing at that desk again.

     Robert K. Jones (August 29, 1937 – August 26, 2015): Beyond the Ford history of the Dearborn

Robert K. Jones

Inn and surroundings, I think it was more the memory of my friend, Bob Jones. He was on my mind that morning back in 2002. That is not a big revelation as I was meeting him for breakfast. Bob, or RK, as he was also called, was often on my mind. Thinking about him made for the magical feel of writing in that pleasant space back in 2002 and even more so now.     He was my best friend from my few years at Ford. We stayed in touch after I left Ford and even after I left the Detroit area. We did not call or write enough but truly Bob was often on my mind. When back in Detroit with some free time, I would try to get together with Bob. That Saturday in July 2002 was one of those few times.
      I met RK in the fall of 1976. I was working in the Warranty Analysis Department, my first full time grownup job, for only a few months. One morning my supervisor, Carlos Dominguez, came and told me that an engineer, Bob, was transferring into our department and the Carlos thought he was someone I should get to know and be friends with. I asked why he thought that. I was simply curious as to what was behind his suggestion. Carlos said it was because we were both smart, personable, and well-read.
     Carlos could not have been more correct. RK was the right person at the right time to help me develop a more balanced and worldly view. He embraced life and learning in a most charming, almost innocent yet deadly serious, way. He wrote, painted, thought, and was involved. He lived in and was dedicated to the City of Detroit. He never moved even though he could have. Bob loved his alma mater Wayne State University.
     Bob was a classic fellow. He always dressed Brooks Brothers both formally and what we now call business casual. He loved to write letters and always used a fine fountain pen and Crane stationary. Under his signature, which was always RK Jones, he always sketched a pair of wire rim glasses with round lenses. These were the only kind he ever wore.
     We had drifted apart, probably since 2010. By we, I mean I drifted apart. Bob became a lot more conservative in both politics and religion. He would genuinely contest my centrist bloggy bits on both fronts pointing out the flaws he saw in my logic and premises. I did not react well to such, I must admit. For some reason, I can handle criticism from just about anybody else. I could not handle it from RK. He used to challenge my thoughts and views more from the left. I think I was just confused by the shift in his change in perspective.
     He sent me a letter in August of 2015, just before he passed. I did not get that it was a good-bye letter. Because he did not specifically say it was. I did not respond. I only learned that he passed away in a Christmas card from a mutual friend. I felt horrible, an odd mix of stupid, sad, and empty.
     I know the lesson here. Keep in touch with those you value even if the context of the relation or friendship has changed a bit or maybe even a lot. It is a bitter lesson to learn once. I have been relearning this lesson a few times in the past few years. It is more important as I am at an age where people that I know, love, and value will be passing on with greater frequency.
     Writing most of this letter at The Dearborn Inn was even more special. I did have a “fat breakfast” in the Ten Eyck Room. I wished I could have had just one more with RK.

     George Orwell: In my anniversary letters, I often will quote another, generally someone from the pantheon of great writers. Thanks to the January 14th Wall Street Journal for providing this passage from George Orwell in a somewhat regular column, Notable and Quotable, in the Opinion pages. I am not sure how much of this applies to my beyond the first phrase, but Orwell could write.

All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane. I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed.

      It has been a pleasure writing these letters and the blog that grew out of it. I look forward to doing it more.
     Thanks to one and all for the great support and encouragement over these 13 years.

February 2015: 11th Anniversary Letter

     It has been 11 years of this e-letter and almost 13 for writing every day. As I have written almost every year, it has been a good thing. It has even been a good transformational process. It forces clearer and more organized thinking. Surprisingly, my proofreading skills are still lacking and perhaps lacking big-time.
     The Habit of Writing: It has, indeed, been 11 years of this e-letter and almost 13 for writing every day. Well that is until late last year that is.
     Honestly, the daily writing has become a bit of a struggle since I started my full time faculty position. This seems odd because, I theoretically have more free time and thus should have no problem writing.
     Yes, I have free time. The classroom time is set and fixed. It amounts to about 12 hours of in class time. On a 40 hour work week, that leaves 28 hours of free time. On a 60 hour work week, which is more the norm these days, that leaves 48 hours of free time. Anyone that has ever taught understands the fallacy of this arithmetic. The reality is that each hour of class time, requires or generates 2 hours outside the class. That bumps the 12 hour teaching load up to 36 hours. The four hours get used for administrative meetings and such. This is why they call teaching 12 credit hours a full time load.
     OK then. I am working full time. Big whoopee. I should still be able to make and find time to write. Shouldn’t I? People make time for what is important to them. That much is a universal almost by definition. If it is really important to you, you will do it. If you are not doing it and complaining about not having time to do it, then it must not be something you really want. That is the logic.
     Case in point, while working at Colgate-Palmolive and Newell Rubbermaid, I managed to write each and every day. I would have to say that those corporate jobs were more demanding than my current faculty position. How was I able to do that?
     First, let’s consider the following. There was a Zig Ziglar quote on Facebook this week. It is right to the point:

Motivation gets you going
and habit gets you there.

     Motivation by itself is not enough. Back in my corporate days, I developed a writing habit. I did it first thing in the morning. I would get up early and do my daily writing with my first cup of coffee. It worked. It worked if my office was in Manhattan. I would take the early train, head to a Starbucks by the office, and write. It worked in Oak Brook. I would get to the office early having gotten a coffee en route and write.
      In the days of unemployment, consulting, and adjunct teaching, I still had a good writing habit. It shifted a bit though. Writing became the last task of the day. I still did but instead of at the crack of dawn, it was more like at the stroke of 10 pm.
     With the return to one full time job instead of three or four part-time ones, my life is more predictably scheduled and thus I should be better able to establish a habit. This has not been the case. My first thing in the morning over that first cup of coffee activity has become reading the Wall Street Journal (read more about this in the next section). It is and indispensible part of the job. As a professor in a business school, it is important to be on top of what is happening in the world of business and be able to relate what is being taught in the classroom to what is happening in the real world. For example, we were covering the role of government while the US was deciding on the Net Neutrality issue. Perfect. The point here is that reading the journal has taken over the crack of dawn time slot.
     Well that still leaves the end of day time slot. With the new job has come a resumption of getting up early. Thus, by 10 pm, I am simply running out of gas. There is a reason the best writers in the world tend to write first thing in the day. They simply have more energy and clarity of thought.
     On top of this, I decided to tackle serious subjects in my December and January letters which by the way are still in draft form in cloud storage. In December, I had this idea of tackling looking at both or all sides in the Ferguson, MO what is going on with race relations in this country. It is a great topic but it is also a deep and controversial subject. It is controversial because most folks have a point of view, sincerely believe that point of view is unequivocally, axiomatically, correct and anyone who disagrees is a moron. This is not an easy thing to write about from the middle. You are wrong to both sides and are basically just Shemp Howard saying “Gentlemen, gentlemen” only to by punched simultaneously on both sides of the face (I did try to find a photo of this on internet).
     Basically, I need to retrench, retool, and establish a new habit. There will be more to follow on this I am sure in subsequent blogs and letters on objective setting and time and task management. (Yes, I know, I should just read and follow my previous bloggy bits on these topics.)
     Good writing: This is the section of my anniversary letter where I traditionally comment on good writing i.e. not mine.
     Having taken the job at North Park University’s School of Business, I have gotten into reading the Wall Street Journal every day. We get at a copy at the office. I started reading that copy but I was not on campus every day. Others also wanted to read the paper, so it was not always available.
     In this age of newspapers being something much less than they were because of the internet, the Journal did it the right way. Because they are the official newspaper of American business, they were able to charge for their internet content. It is just a business expense for their reader base. Basically, I would have just read it online but for this.
     I decided to explore getting a subscription. There were two basic subscriptions: digital only and both print and digital. While I was looking at the pricing and balking at the rates, I notice they had exclusive offers for students and educators. This appealed to me. For $200, I got two years of home delivery and digital access. That comes to $1.92 a week or approximately 32¢ an issue. I signed up.
     The writing in the Journal is generally good. In most of the articles, it is clear and informative. Where it shines, is in the feature articles especially when there are guest notables or professors. Recently, I have read one of each.
     In the February 5, 2015 edition of the paper, Paula Marantz Cohen wrote a lovely Opinion piece titled “Queen for a day no more.” “Ms. Cohen is an English professor and dean of the Pennoni Honors College at Drexel University in Philadelphia.” She wrote about a beautiful piece about Harold’s Bridal Shop in New Haven, CT that recently closed its doors after Harold’s sister in-law and long time soul of the place sales lady, Georgianna DiGioia, who passed away last year at the age of 98.

Harold Pellegrino had started the shop when he returned from World War II. His assumption was that there were two things people would do when they got back from the war: buy a house and get married. He opted for the bridal trade over real estate. Georgianna loved her work because it allowed her to contribute to the most important moments in the lives of her neighbors. Like her name DiGioia, her work in the shop gave her and others joy.

     Professor Marantz painted a lovely scene of a single proprietor business in this big box, online, chain store era we live in.
     Another wonderful piece was in the February 26, 2015 edition by the humorist Dave Barry: “The Greatest (Party) Generation.” Dave Barry is a great humorist. I used to love to read his column every Sunday in the Parade magazine that came with the Detroit Free Press. I may have even bought a book on fatherhood by him back in the 1980s.
     This article in the Wall Street Journal is “Excerpted from Mr. Barry’s latest book, ‘Live Right and Find Happiness (Although Beer Is Much Faster),’ to be published on March 3 by G.P. Putnam’s Sons.” It is also a nostalgic piece about his parents, my parents, generation. He expounds on the kinds of house or cocktail parties they used to throw with greater frequency and verve than the ensuing generations. Here is an excerpt:

And it wasn’t just cigarettes and alcohol they didn’t worry about. They also didn’t worry that there might be harmful chemicals in the water that they drank right from the tap. They didn’t worry that if they threw their trash into the wrong receptacle, they were killing baby polar bears and hastening the extinction of the human race. They didn’t worry about consuming trans fats, gluten, fructose, and all the other food components now considered so dangerous they could be used to rob a bank (“Give him the money! He’s got gluten!”).

     I do believe I am trying to write like both of these wonderful authors.

     How do I write? In previous years, I have commented that I have handwritten my daily writing. This was true for the first several years I was writing this letter. As the theme for the monthly letter emerged somewhere in the last third of the month, I would edit and type up the daily writing into the letter.
      In 2009, I put all the original writing into a blog, This Side of Fifty, and things seemed to change. I had experimented with typing my daily writing before then, but the frequency began to increase at this point. Shortly thereafter, probably in 2010, I procured an iPad2 with a Zagg keyboard. Soon, I was typing everything and handwriting became passé. These days, I type 100% of my daily writing into Apple’s Pages word processor or MS Word. In either case they are saved in either the iCloud or Box.com so that I can access them from any device connected to the internet.
      While all of this is very cool and kinda high tech, I do miss the handwriting. There is something to be said for the act of handwriting. There is an expressiveness to it that cannot be matched on the keyboard. Yet, as nice as that might be, handwritten work must then be typed turn it into a blog post or e-letter. They time savings of writing on a keyboard surpasses the pleasure gained by handwriting.
     Handwriting, and I am talking about cursive handwriting versus printing, may become a lost art. It is no longer universally taught. I did not no this. I became aware of it when students came up to me and said they could not read what I had handwritten on their exams. I assumed it was because my handwriting was too sloppy but that was not the case. They said they could not read cursive handwriting. I asked how that could be and then learned that they had never learned cursive writing. I was kind of surprised more than shocked. Having learned this, I then noticed that on essay parts of exams more and more students were printing rather than handwriting their responses. I realized that handwriting is not necessary or relevant any more. One does not need both printing and handwriting for the amount of manual writing we do these days. As printing is traditionally taught first, cursive handwriting has become redundant and unnecessary.
      According to an August 12, 2013 USA Today article, Is cursive's day in classroom done?, “at least 41 states do not require public schools to teach cursive reading or writing.” This is primarily due to cursive writing not being in the new Common Core requirements. Is this a big deal? Eh… maybe yes, probably not.
      A little research showed that cursive writing was formalized in the US in the mid-1800s by one Pratt Rogers Spencer. It became the popular style of penmanship taught in the US until 1925. The Ford Motor Company and Coca-Cola logos are written in what is known as the Spencerian Script.
      Spencerian Script was quickly replaced by the script developed by one Austin Palmer in the late 1800s. He published a book in 1894, Palmer’s Guide to Business Writing. It quickly became the standard which was taught in all schools until, apparently, recently.
     I was taught the Palmer Script in third grade I believe. I was so excited on the first day when we learned to write lower case i’s and j’s. I came home very excited and practiced them more at home. It did not take long, like the next day, when I realized that my handwriting was going to be less than perfect. 

      When I was handwriting my daily pages, I probably had the best handwriting of my life. I still believe in the power and personal touch of a thoughtfully handwritten missive.       Thanks once again to all my friends and family who have graciously supported this 11year old project through both readership and encouragement. I greatly appreciate it.

February 2014: Ten Years

 It is the anniversary issue of this letter.  I sent out my first one in February of 2004.  Wow.  Ten Years.  I am amazed that ten years has passed so quickly.  When I first began this project, I was not so sure that it would last ten weeks or ten months, let alone ten years.  Now, I cannot imagine life without this wonderful hobby of mine.

That first letter we sent to about 40 people.  The letter was distributed by email exclusively through December 2008:  71 letters.   Each of those letters were handwritten and then typed.  I was distributing the letter to well over 300 people at that point. 

In January 2009, in the pit of the Great Recession, I had a bit of free time.  So, I learned about blogging in general and Blogger, the Google blogging platform.  I put all my previous letters on http://thissideoffifty.blogspot.com and I posted my January 2009 letter on the blog just before I emailed it out.  I continued to post on letter a month until September of that year.  I had three posting that month.   

Beginning in 2010, I began to gradually moved away from handwriting every day.  These days, I type my daily writing mostly using my iPad.  That daily writing still turns into my monthly letter.  It also results in three other blog posting and two postings to my work blog.

I still have not written the book I set out to write when I began writing every day.  I have not written a book at all, but I have written a lot.  This letter, the other This Side of Fifty blog postings, and my business blog, www.cr-supplychain.com, form the bulk of my personal writing.  Beginning in April of 2012, I actually started getting paid to write.  Now the writing side of my consulting business is as lucrative as my supply chain work.  This, to me, is very cool. 

I like that it started off as one thing and then, as is the story of my life, became something related but different. 

Being an important anniversary, I have asked a few friends to comment on this occasion with the intent of including them in this letter.  The first to respond is Ara Topouzian whom I refer to in every two or three letters.  Thanks Ara!

AraTopouzian:  So much of what we read today can be classified as negative, self-fulfilling or politicizing. Facebook has magnified this issue. Your blog has always been from the heart and you have never used it as a platform to rally the troops to get them to convert to your way of thinking. Much of what you write is enjoyable to me and as I have known you my entire life, I can say that I look forward to reading your anecdotes, historical commentary and wit. Hard to believe I have been reading your works for ten years. Best of luck Marko on another 10 years...then let’s give it up ok? Enough already. :) 

My letters have hovered between 1,800 and 2,500 words.  This one will be much longer.  I asked several folks that have commented and encouraged me along the way to send a few sentences.  They certainly did that.  Here is one from Greg Postian.  He and I got to know each other when I was living in Connecticut and working in New York.  We were friends for sure but I must say this letter and the interaction we have had since I started sending this letter out took our friendship to another level.  We always see each other at the Armenian Youth Federation Olympic games each Labor day.  We are in touch online much more.

Greg Postian:  Congratulations Mark on starting and then continuing your This Side of Fifty e-letters!  When you first started them, I was “only” this side of forty but I am now where you were when you started your letter and appreciate even more the perspective and insight shown in your writings.  I’ve always looked forward to your letters as a welcome break from the every day, whether it’s a discussion about the comparative quality of different fine pens, the challenges of increasing ones speed on a two wheeler, heartfelt reflections on your childhood and family, musings on Armenian, Turkish and other music, views on Armenian and global history and politics or just commentary on the hot news topic of the moment, there is always a bit of warmth, friendship and truth that comes through.  Your letters have always come across as a very pleasant personal chat between friends over a cup of delicious (Armenian) coffee.  Here’s to many more cups of coffee in the future…

Mark Axelrod is a great friend and supporter.  He writes me on almost each and every letter I send out.  Given the quality and length of his responses I have encouraged Mark to start his own blog.  By profession, Mark is an ace number one recruiter of quality and manufacturing talent.  He loves his trade and is top notch at working his network and keeping in touch with people he knows and values.  I am fortunate to be in that network. 

Avocation wise, Mark and I have music in common.  The music we like and perform is not quite the same.  Mark is a barbershopper.  His is an accomplished singer in a barbershop chorus.  He is an active member of the Teaneck Chapter of the Barbershop Harmony Society and has served in various leadership positions in his chapter.  He has shown me a world of excellent music that I would have otherwise not been exposed to.

Whenever Mark emails me, he refers to me as Gavoorian and signs off as Axelrodian.  This speaks to our friendship and supports my theory that the Armenians might be the lost tribe of Israel… or vice-versa.  Please enjoy his e-letter within this e-letter.  Maybe this will be his inaugural blog posting. 

Mark Axelrod:  Gavoorian - It is my pleasure to add a thought or two in response to your superior monthly letter, the arrival of which I always look forward to. All the more so, of course, because it is the auspicious tenth anniversary of the same. Your talent for selecting engaging topics and word smithing in your reliably entertaining and enlightening manner is a monthly gift you give to your readers.

The topic of your sermon this past month is the horrendous winter weather that has blitzed every part of the lower forty-eight except for southern California and southern Florida. How did they escape? Sometimes they don't. Of course we all complain about the weather... what else can we do? It's been trying back east, but I must say that what you've gone through in the upper mid-west would test the patience of a room full of saints. Would my speculation be accurate that the Chicago Polar Bear Club has dispensed with its annual January frolic in Lake Michigan? A wise decision... they would have had to enlist the air force to bomb the lake to break through the ice. Back here the polar bears pressed ahead with their yearly masochistic rite. Then again, that was back in December, positively balmy December.

Five or six Januaries ago I drove from Teaneck to Cherry Hill to attend COTS (chapter officers' training school) which the Barbershop Harmony Society runs at venues throughout the nation at that time of year. I made the trip on a particularly frigid Saturday morning... low single digits... which is about as cold as it gets in these parts. I picked up a fellow barbershopper in Weehawkin (I don't remember why he was there) who needed a ride to COTS. We rode for a half mile or so along the Hudson before we headed inland to hook up with the NJ Turnpike. The sight I saw that morning above the surface of the Hudson and the upper NY Harbor was one I shall never forget. Being neither a physicist nor a meteorologist I cannot explain the phenomenon, but I suspect it has something to do with the water very closely approaching the exact point at which it freezes. What I saw looked as if the water was on fire. Above this immense body of water rose a heavy blanket of what appeared to be steam (it was some form of water vapor) that stretched into the distance. It's hard to describe how beautiful the Statue of Liberty looked as it rose out of the "steamy" harbor.

I will tell you two more weather-related tales, one of the batten down the hatches variety, the other of the colder 'n' hell type. They both occurred in 1938. That year was totally miserable weather wise. In late September the Mid-Atlantic and New England states were creamed by a massive hurricane; only Hurricane Sandy in 2012 was more destructive. Back then hurricanes were not named. This one was (and is) known as the Great Hurricane of 1938. Among the many calamities it delivered, one was a great water surge that slammed into the south shore of Long Island. Water vapor was lifted aloft by the wind and soon thereafter interior Vermont and New Hampshire experienced salt water rain!

The good news is that Long Island had a tiny population in 1938. The island's great development did not begin until the GI's returned from WW2, got married, had kids, and wanted a split level and a back yard. Levitt and others like him were more than happy to provide same.

The other weather misery in 1938 was in Jan-Feb when the cold was epic. My father...never one for tall tales...told me that the Hudson was so solidly frozen that large trucks drove on it, presumably just because they could. Why else would they? My Uncle Natie had one helluva treat that winter compliments of the US Army. He was stationed in Atlantic City and his job was to scan the ocean through binoculars for ships in trouble and for German subs. Thus was the state of surveillance in 1938. Even though the war in Europe would not commence in earnest for nearly two more years, German subs were plying the Atlantic in the late 1930's and our military wanted to keep an eye on them. Uncle Natie told me that it was so damned cold that for a quarter of a mile or so out from the beach the ocean froze. The breakers were defeated! That's cold. I, too, once saw the breakers on the Atlantic Ocean defeated, but it had nothing to do with cold. I'll tell you about it at another time. Mazel tov on your milestone anniversary, my boy. Keep the monthlies coming. 

~  Axelrodian

What can I say about Tommy Vartabedian?  He retired from the Haverhill Gazette after a long career as a writer, photographer, and editor.  He is a feature writer and columnist for the Armenian Weekly.  I knew of Tom for a long time, but we became friends through the AYF Olympics.  Tom was the editor for the Armenian Weekly’s Olympic Coverage issue to which I contributed an article now and then. 

One thing about writing every day and putting it out there first by email and now by blog is that you don’t worry so much about what people will say.  You take the criticism in stride because you become confident in what you do.  So at some point in my first few years of this letter, I decided to put Tom on my mailing list.  From the get go, he was incredibly encouraging and supportive.  It meant a lot coming from a professional like Tom.

We became better friends again because of the interaction of this letter and my blog.  As a result, I took over from Tom pulling the Olympic Issue of the Armenian Weekly together.  The only difference is that Tom did 99% of the writing and photography himself whereas I had a team of ten… and we barely were able to do the job.

Tom Vartabedian:    As a writer and newspaper columnist over the past 50 years, my inspiration comes from reading the work of others like Mark Gavoor.

    While my focus is primarily upon newspapers, his is to a vast following of readers connected to his e-letter and blog.

    And like any good journalist, he writes it like he sees it --- straight from the heart. He hits the common good with people with everything from his travails to his frivolities, current events to the good old days of yesteryear.

    The reason why they don't get old and disappear is because Mark continues to refresh our memory. One piece that comes to mind is the good, old fountain pen.

    I don't know who gave who the idea to expound upon the virtues of good writing implements but I worked it into an Almanac column of my own.

    Shortly thereafter, a package arrived to my home addressed from Mark and behold! Inside was a gorgeous black Waterman pen emblazoned with my name. A winning lottery ticket would not have meant as much.

    Today, that pen remains a staple upon my desk, used concurrently for all my formal writing, giving credence to the adage, "The pen is mightier than the sword."

    Good luck on your 10th anniversary and may every journalistic approach open the gates to a new tomorrow.

    One other thing:  Only through this medium will he continue to get out the last word.

Ruth Swisher is another Armenian friend.  I met her when my band was playing picnics in Hartford.   I learned that her mother was from the same village as my maternal grandmother, Yeghikeh, which is part of the city now known as Elazig in the Republic of Turkey.  Our family was the only descendants of Armenians from Yeghikeh in Detroit.  Hartford was a place many more settled.  It was great to have had the opportunity to play there for the children and grandchildren of Yeghikeh. 

Ruth has also been very supportive of this project.  Again, I believe we are better friends because of this project.

Ruth Swisher:  At the end of each month, I look forward to reading your blog and find it to be very informative and educational on either current events and/or past history.  I especially enjoy reading your articles on Armenia/historic Armenia and our music.  Keep up the good work Mark.

My cousin David and I were always kind of close.  We are closer now than we have ever been.  We often see things the same and when we differ, it is nuanced.

I do believe as my cousin gets older, his inner Uncle Rouben has come out.   David keeps in touch with the family better than anyone else.  Uncle Rouben would have been very proud of him.  Uncle Rouben would have loved this writing project of mine. 

David Gavoor:  Mark:  Being a devotee (and lover) of your Monthly e-Letters, ALL OF WHICH I'VE READ, I know that February is the 10th anniversary of your "musings and meanderings."  How has the time flown by so quickly?! 

Although my first instinct was to write that I'm constantly amazed by the range you show in these letters, of course I'm not; I know you too well.  The breadth and depth of your knowledge (albeit with a little help from the Net) is nothing less than astonishing.  I literally don't know anyone else who knows more about more topics than you.  There's something for everyone. 

You've always had my ultimate respect when it comes to your mind and it is reinforced anew each month when I receive that much anticipated email with your newest piece.  Looking forward to 10, 20, 30+ more years of your incalculably enjoyable letters!  ~ Your Cuz

In my first letter, I explained how the idea for the letter came to me.  Every anniversary, I refer to Aram Kevorkian and the legal letter that he sent out on a monthly basis.  His letter grew into something much more and more grand.  I read a few of his letters in January of 2004, shortly after he passed away.  I was so moved by what Aram had done that I immediately knew what to do with my writing.  I wish I could have thanked him personally.  I get to thank his daughter Corinne every year.  We most certainly have become friends because of his letter and my letter.

I am honored that Corinne provided the following testimonial.

Corinne Kevorkian:  Congratulations on the 10th Anniversary of your Newsletter!  It is hard to believe that 10 years have gone by already.  And yet, I remember so well the day I met you, 10 years ago, at the memorial service for my father who had recently passed away.  You had never met my father, but you felt compelled to come and pay your respect to this man who had inspired you.  My father had started his own Newsletter around the time he turned 50.  And somehow from Paris, through the Armenian Diaspora, to the United States, a copy of his Newsletter found its way to you.  

I was very moved when you approached me these many years ago and told me that my father's Newsletter is what inspired you - or rather, gave you the courage - to launch your own Newsletter.  As if in his passing, he had also passed on the torch to you.  Though your styles and topics are vastly different, the passion of your shared Armenian heritage, your love of music and compassion for the common man echo in your written words.  So as I commemorate the 10th Anniversary of my father's passing, I also celebrate the anniversary of your Newsletter - in every ending, there is a beginning.   As my father used to say (which he attributed partially to William Saroyan),  "When in doubt, do the bold thing, and do it with joy in your heart!"  You certainly have.  Congratulations Mark!

For the final comments from readers, I am delighted to include this contribution from my son. 

Aram Gavoor:  Dad, twelve years ago you embarked on a personal goal to write every day. Ten years ago, you began sharing your writing in a monthly letter.  The goal was to be self-reflective with your thoughts and experiences of the human condition.  Your monthly blog, which organically grew from your humble desire, has blossomed to a delightful reminder of how proud of you I am each month. Your unique insight and consistent discipline are a splendid example of the importance of living a life of conscience. Congratulations on the first ten years. I look forward to the next twenty-five!

Fulfillment and success in life differs from person to person.  Probably, there are always riches involved.  For some, it is the richness of fame.  For others, it is gold that glitters most.  It can be love of friends and family.  It is the inner pride that comes from what we have built, made, or… it my case written.  I am proud of what I have accomplished. 

I am excited to take it to new heights. 

Thank you again one and all for reading my musings and meanderings.  Thank you for your encouragement and feedback.  I greatly appreciate it.