Sweet Voice

Music has been an important part of my life.  That has been an on-going theme of these letters and on my blog.  Allow me to indulge in this topic again.

Some History:  I want to reflect on something that happened in the news this month.  Let’s kind of start at the beginning.  This history began while I was playing with my first band, The Johnites, in Detroit.  We formed the band in 1969 and included five friends:  John Tosoian - Clarinet, Tom Zakarian - Guitar, Vaughn Masropian - Dumbeg, Mike Mossoian - Dumbeg, and myself - oud.  We were close and got much closer being in the same band.  We all stood up in each others weddings.  Mike left the band when he moved to California for a few years. I played with them from the inception of the band until I moved to New York in 1990.  It was very hard to leave the band.  I missed the music and the camaraderie.  Almost immediately I got to play with and be friends with other musicians.  The same thing happened when I move to Chicago.  Often, the fondest memories are the oldest.

We loved to play and we loved to share the music that we loved.  We listened and learned.  We discussed how others played and interpreted songs and we copied the masters to the best of our abilities.  The masters we listened to we predominately other American Armenian musicians that included John Bilezikjian, John Berberian, George Mgrdichian, Arte Barsamian, Ed Arvanigian, Eddie Sharoian, Simon Javisian, Harry Bakalian, Hachig Kazarian, Harry Minasian, Souren Baronian, Richard Hagopian, Jack Chalikian, Bob Tashjian, Chick Ganimian, the Vosbikians and so many others.  We began listening to records but quickly moved into cassettes.  Cassettes made it easy to listen to our music almost anywhere.  Most importantly we were able to easily copy and share live recordings.  We were even able to copy and share scant recordings that were just becoming more available from Turkey.

The recordings from Turkey opened up a new and exciting dimension to our music,for me.  We got to hear different styles from classical (sanat) to folk to pop.  We got to hear superb musicians that were conservatory trained and basically were full time musicians.  We noted that there was no substitute for being able to fully dedicate oneself to music and make a career out of it.  We could only imagine how good we could be if we had had that option.  It was my first personal realization of the concept of the White Genocide or the Djermak Chart, the genocide we in the diaspora fight against every day.

It was at this time, sometime in the mid-1980s, that I first heard what has been my favorite singer ever since.  If I had to pick a year, I would say 1984.  I had a band job with the Johnites.  I cannot even remember where we were playing, it is that long ago.  I am guessing it was a wedding since most of our work back in those days most of our work was at weddings.  I do recall it being one of those lovely summer days in Detroit that turn into perfect summer evenings.   I specifically remember Vaughn invited me to his car during a break to hear a new tape.  I cannot remember how many times we told each other “you gotta hear this new tape!”  He popped the cassette into his car player and I sat there mesmerized listening.  I did not know the of the song I was listening to.  I did not know the name of this singer.  The tape Vaughn had was a third or fourth generation copy with nothing written on it.  I just knew I liked it... I really liked this music and this singer.

Vaughn made me a copy and I listened to it over and over again.  I loved the rich tenor voice of this singer.  I loved the folk like music they played.  I was convinced that if our people were still living in the Armenian highlands, the place now known as Eastern Anatolia, and if I were to have become a musician, I would be playing exactly this music.  I might even have been in this fellows band.  It was that serious and had that much impact.

I was in Boston and was visiting Peter Kyvelos the renowned luthier and oud maker.  There was a video shop near his shop of which I had parked in front.  After spending some time with Peter, I was going back to my car and noticed that the video shop had Armenian and Arabic tapes.  So, I went in and looked around.  I saw a section in this small store where they were selling cassette tapes.  I was a little surprised to see Turkish cassettes which a little bit of a surprise because Armenians from Beirut, as the proprietor of this store clearly was, do not openly listen to Turkish music... at least publicly.  In looking at the display of tapes, I noticed a half dozen tape of a mustached singer named Ibrahim Tatlises.  One of the tapes featured two words in a yellow star-burst:  Leylim Ley.  I recognized these words as the chorus of the song from that tape Vaughn gave me.  Leylim Ley was that first song I had listened to.  Ibrahim Tatlises was the name of the singer. I was pretty excited to have found out the name of this singer who I have been listening to and admiring for over a year.  I bought a few more cassettes.  

Ibrahim Tatlises cover photo of his Bulamadim album

One of them was Fosforlu Cevriyem.  It was a live concert and I wore out that cassette before I bought the CD in the 1990s.  I came to learn that the style of music was called Arabesk.  It was called that because of Arab style orchestration featuring a string section.  It was Arab style music done in Turkish.  It most definitely was not high brow music.  It was the music of the poor.  It was the music of poor Kurds.  Tatlises himself is Kurdish.  Whenever I would mention Tatlises as my favorite singers to more educated Turks from Istanbul, it was like they could not believe I even knew who he was.  Then they were astonished that I would like such a “low class” singer.  They just did not get and could never really understand how I could like Ibrahim Tatlises.

When my son Aram was young, we would be in the car and I would very likely have Tatlses playing.  Once Aram asked why I liked and listened to this kind of music.  My simple response was “It is just country music, from a different country.”   Both of my kids liked the Armenian music they were used to at dances, weddings, and picnics.  They tolerated my more esoteric tastes in music.  Armene would just call it “Dad’s music.”

Speaking of country music, that is exactly what Ibrahim Tatlises sang.  His Turkish was heavilly accented.  For example, when singing about raki, the national anise flavored raisin liquor of Turkey, he did not pronounce in the clean modern and urbane way they would in Istanbul where the ‘k’ is made as soft as possible.  He would belt the word out with a more guttural throaty “kh”  Armenians, Arabs, Kurds, and, of course, Turks of humble means from the countryside would use.

One of the Tatlises cassettes I have actually featured photographs of the great singer standing in front of semi-tractor trailer rigs.  It was like he was a Turkish Waylon Jennings.  It hammered home the fact that he is a singer of the common man, truck drivers, and taxi cab drivers in Istanbul.  In fact, there was a front page article in the Wall Street Journal in the early 1990s that suggested that if Sulyeman Demirel or Bülent Ecevit, or whoever was the Prime Minister at the time should listen to the music taxi cab drivers in Istanbul were listening to if really wanted to know what was wrong with the country and what the poor people were going through.  Per the article, they were listening to Tatlises singing the songs of their tough lives.  The incumbent did not heed the advice of the Wall St. Journal and was not re-elected.  With the photos of Tatlises with big rigs and the Wall St. Journal article, I came to fully understand how and why the educated and corporate Turks in the same socio-economic class as me in this country were so mystified by how big a fan of Tatlises I was.

I knew almost nothing about this fellow Ibrahim Tatlises.  While I liked his singing, I did not have the need to know too much more about him.  I learned that his last name Tatlises means Sweet  Voice (maybe Sweet Words tatli soz?).  There was some banter among my Greek musician friends in Connecticut that he was gay.  I have recently learned that his has children, so I pay even less attention to these theories.

When I joined Colgate, one of the first thing I did was teach Quality Management to Division of New Geographies for Colgate.  This included the subsidiaries in Africa, Eastern Europe, and Turkey.  We had the training in South Africa.  It was there I met two sons of Colgate’s joint venture business partners in Turkey:  Bulent and Mehmet Basar.  At a cocktail party, I was talking to them and they soon understood I was Armenian and liked Turkish music.  They asked who my favorite artists were.  First and foremost I mentioned Ibrahim Tatlises. 

 I expected them to have the same reaction that other Turks had with this revelation.  I was delighted when Bulent said, “Ibo is our friend.”  They proceeded to tell me how Colgate Turkey had run a promotion with Tatlises.  They had a concert in which the price of admission was two empty boxes of Fab Detergent.  It was a heavily advertised promotion.  Shortly after returning to New York, Bulent sent me a poster used to advertise the promotion featuring a photo of Tatlises and a few boxes of Fab.  I had the poster framed and it has graced my office ever since.

Later I came learn that most people did not bring two empty boxes of Fab to the concert.  The company had two trucks full of detergent.  People bought  their two boxes on the spot, opened the boxes, spilled out the detergent, and made their way to the gate.  Others told there was a mountain of detergent that had to be cleaned up after the concert.

Some Very Recent History:  On March 13, Ibrahim Tatlises was attacked in a drive by shooting by gunmen wielding automatic weapons as he left the studio where he had just finished filming his popular TV show.   It was amazing that he was not killed.  He was, however, seriously wounded.  It was thought that he might not recover and if he did would be mentally impaired.  I was checking Google news everyday to get the latest reports.

Through all of this I learned that Tatlises is 58 years old.  He is essentially my age.  I thought he was younger because of his youthful sounding voice and energy.  I had once thought that it would have been cool to have met, tried to play with his band, and maybe even become friends.  Upon reading about Tatlises this month and learning more about him, I believe I will simply remain a fan of his singing from afar.  Ibrahim Tatlises is what they used to call in this country one “tough cookie.”  He was a construction worker before become the internationally known singer he is today.  He has had connections and business interests with thugs and organized criminals.  This is not the first time he has been attacked and wounded. 
 

On March 25th, Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan visited Ibrahim Tatlises in the hospital.  I learned that Tatlises may have been attacked because he had agreed to run for deputy representing Şanlıurfa (Urfa) his home town for the AK party which is Erdoğan’s party.  Those arrested were believed to have been part of or funded by the more radical PKK party which has fought both politically and with arms for Kurdish freedom and rights.  At least this is what has been reported in the Turkish press in English.  If I have learned one thing about Turkey... some or none of this might be true.

I am glad Ibrahim Tatlises was not killed, his prognosis is much more positive than when he was first shot, and I hope he fully recovers.

Here are a few of my favorite Tatlises Youtubes of the hundreds available:

1. Here is the original version of Leylim Ley, I somehow believed that I could have played in this group (LOL):  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01OcIduiY8U
2. Here is a more recent version of the same song.  There is no question, I could not play with this band (LMAO):  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybkcYhhFLu0
3. Here is a music video of one of his Bulamadim.  He does kind of look my age in this video except for the amazingly jet black hair.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sAHvQKavE8&feature=fvst
4. This is Tatlises’s most famous song Mavi Mavi:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWSAvfK9WC4&feature=related
5. A slice of Urfa life from the Ibo Show.  Listen to his voice rise above the others:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhfByVcLcMs&feature=related
6. Aşık Mahsuni Şerif's Dom Dom Kurşunu is one of my favorite songs especially when sung by Tatlises:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hc3238mrz6E

Yokay then!

The media, this morning, informed me of two historical events that occurred today:  March 23.   NPR, with or without government funding, let me know that on this day in 1775, Patrick Henry uttered the phrase for which he is best known, “... give me liberty or give me death!”  The phrase was used in speech to the Virgina convention and criticized the tough handed British rule over the American colonies.  The full sentence used in the speech was actually, “I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"

The other tidbit was in the daily, actually more like every other day, email I get from History.com informing me of the many things that happened in history on the days they actually send me their "daily" e-mail.  The lead item today was not the Patrick Henry quote which the number two item in the e-mail.  The number one item was “1839 : OK enters national vernacular.”

OK, I actually read about OK first over breakfast.  I half thought about writing about it because of an odd similarity between the American youth of 1839 and young people today (I will explain more below... OK?).  But, as stated, it was a half thought.  On the drive in, I heard the Patrick Henry tidbit on the radio and somehow that tipped the scale towards writing and posting about history.  OK?

The remaining question was whether to write more about Patrick Henry and his famous quote or to write about the more pedestrian OK?  I am feeling quite pedestrian, if not outright plebeian, today.  There was really no question.  I am writing mostly about OK.  You can read the full article on History.com.  There is no real need for me to copy and paste or even paraphrase the text into my own words.  (http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/ok-enters-national-vernacular)

I do want to expound a bit, however, on the lovely parallels the History.com article claimed about the American youth of then and now (and I just said I would not be cutting or pasting... OK then):

During the late 1830s, it was a favorite practice among younger, educated circles to misspell words intentionally, then abbreviate them and use them as slang when talking to one another. Just as teenagers today have their own slang based on distortions of common words, such as "kewl" for "cool" or "DZ" for "these," the "in crowd" of the 1830s had a whole host of slang terms they abbreviated. Popular abbreviations included "KY" for "No use" ("know yuse"), "KG" for "No go" ("Know go"), and "OW" for all right ("oll wright").

LOL!  OMG!  Those wacky 1839 teenagers did this without the social media driven abbreviation frenzy of today. They had no texting or twitter.  They had no phones let alone cell phones.  The telegraph existed in concept but was not widely used in 1839.  The 1839 teenagers had no instant messaging Facebook e-mail need to abbreviate and create their own slang.  Yet, they did it.  I am now guessing it might be more an adolescent thing than an internet social media driven thing.  Who would have guessed?

I like the KY = know yuse.  I do not imagine the KY Jelly marketing folks will pick-up on this oddity any time soon.  OK.

Why does this fascinate me?  (Not the KY thing... the OK thing...please.)  I was impressed that OK was born out of a misspelling and mispronunciation of a very common phrase resulting in an abbreviation that upon appearance is unrelated to the original phrase.  Lately, I have been doing the same thing with OK.  I have been saying Yokay.

Why?  I don’t know.  It seemed funny to me and there are a  few people that I used it on who looked at me funny and started laughing.  That is about all the encouragement I need.  So, I have kept using it.  Now I have learned that I have actually distorted and misspelled a word, OK, that in fact is itself a distortion and abbreviation of a misspelling of two other words.  How kewl is that?

Yapperently, things like this amuse me.

A Very Thin Slice of Life

I was on my way to work this morning.  It was darker at 6:30 am than it was just a week ago before springing forward this past Sunday.   I turned left onto Waukegan Road heading north toward my client’s offices.   At first glance in my rear view mirror, I recognized that the car behind me was a recent model BMW.   This was evident by the angry headlights.  The headlights look angry because of the angled in eyebrows above the circular headlights.  The eyebrows are LED turn signals and running lights.  They are very distinctive.

At the first light, the beige 500 series BMW pulled up next to me.  I glanced over and noted a bald or shaved head man in his forties or early fifties with rimless glasses.  I noticed that he had the map light on and was reading a book.  Up until then I was only noting my environment which is something any quality engineer does as a matter of course.  At that point, my interest and curiosity was fully engaged.  Was this fellow reading while he was driving?  What was he reading and why was he reading while he was driving?

My first question was answered as soon as the light turned green.  The fellow closed the book, set it on the seat next to him, turned off the map light, and took off.  At the next light, I was next to the fellow again.  Sure enough, as soon as he stopped he flipped on the map light and began reading again.   While I was next to him, I was behind him just a bit where I could see the open book.  My first guess was that he was reading The Bible because the book was relatively thick and it had one of those ribbons sewn into the binding that was used as a bookmark.  It was the bookmark that led me to believe he was reading The Bible.  The light turned green and we zoomed off.

At the next light, we were again next to each other.  The fellow was again reading.  This time, while not able to actually see much, I was looking to see if the pages were in two columns of text.  This would all but verify he was reading The Bible.  This however was not the case.  I was able to see a pattern however.  There was a block of text in the center of the two-thirds of the page.  This block was bordered by a rectangle and there was more text around outside the box.  I now concluded that the man was reading The Talmud which was the text in the middle of the page. The text around the box would have been the commentaries. 

As the traffic lights became less frequent, there was not another opportunity to revise the theory any further.  Instead, I pondered why this fellow was reading in such infrequent and short spurts.  Was the book that interesting?  Was he that dedicated to his faith?  Was he making incredibly effective use of his time?  All of these are possible and yet, there may be something I have not thought of.

Me?  I like to listen to National Public Radio in the morning while driving.  It is my only regular dosage of news.  To my thinking, that is pretty effective use of time.  Even if I were reading the most interesting book I have ever read, I probably would never try to read a book or newspaper while driving even if only at stoplights.

I wonder if anyone else ever noticed this fellow reading at stoplights?

There you have it, my fifteen minute slice of life from this morning.

On Japan's Nuclear Crisis

I have been following the news coming out of Japan. It is sad enough that the Tsunami hit and killed at least 10,000 and left scores more homeless. It was eerie to read about the 1,000 bodies that washed up on shore. It is a very tough situation that is made even worse by the fact the area, in Northeast Japan, hit by the Tsunami and earthquake is home to a few nuclear power plants.

It sounds scary. The reports are ominous. I heard a report on NPR this evening that very unsettling. There is a fire at one of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant reactors. Officials are afraid that they will not be able to convince any workers to fight to avert disaster. There are real fears that the instrumentation in the reactors used to monitor and control the reactor are either malfunctioning or not functioning at all. The New York Times has reported that:

A small crew of technicians, braving radiation and fire, became the only people remaining at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station on Tuesday — and perhaps Japan’s last chance of preventing a broader nuclear catastrophe. http://nyti.ms/gF9IH2

Fifty people are left to fight and shut down an exposed core. There is a very real fear of a meltdown which could jeopardize many people in this densely populated country. People are trying to get as far away from the reactors as possible. These brave souls who volunteered or were assigned to this detail may well die in their efforts to save others.

This is eerily reminiscent of Chernobyl. At this point, Chernobyl was much worse than Daichi. The Chernobyl reactor exploded and spew huge plumes of radioactive steam, smoke, and ash into the atmosphere risking millions. The similarity was a few hearty souls, heros, went in a poured cement around the core to seal it and prevent an even worse disaster. 28 died from radiation exposure and the remainder have been afflicted with severe radiation related health afflictions. It is a very grim situation for the workers that have stayed on.

The other thing that strikes me is that Japan has already had more than it’s fair share of nuclear devastation. It was the only place in the world where atom bombs have been used in warfare. In 1945, the United States dropped bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in order to force Japan to surrender. It worked but at a great human price. (Please see my posting written on the 60th anniversary of those bombings: http://thissideoffifty.blogspot.com/2009/01/august-2005-atom-bombing-of-hiroshima.html)

Now, 66 years later, this poor country is struggling with another potential nuclear devastation, this one of their own creation. I was a little surprised earlier this week when I learned that the Japanese had nuclear power plants. I had assumed that, given the events of 1945, they would have chosen another path. I am now thinking that their energy needs were so great their natural resources were so scant that nuclear power was the only path. I also imagine that they reasoned that their industrial might and dedication to quality management would be more than sufficient to guarantee safe operation of such facilities

Europe's energy commissioner Guenther Oettinger went further and dubbed the nuclear disaster an "apocalypse", saying Tokyo had almost lost control of events at the Fukushima plant. "There is talk of an apocalypse and I think the word is particularly well chosen," he said in remarks to the European Parliament. http://t.co/Sri1nJf

Would I have been a Black Eagle?

In the March 7, 2011 issue of The New Yorker, there was a Letter from Turkey entitled “The View from the Stands:  Life among Istanbul’s soccer fanatics.”  I read it with great fascination both because it gave a glimpse into soccer fanaticism and also because it was about Istanbul.  The article was written by Elif Batuman who the contributor page told me is “a writer in residence at Koç University, in Istanbul, and the author of ‘The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People Who Read Them.”  

Ms. Batuman acknowledged the three premier and most popular teams in Turkish futbol as Galatasary, Fenerbahçe, and Beşiktaş.  She pretty quickly focused on the Beşiktaş team and their fan club called Çarşi.  The colors of the Black Eagles of Beşiktaş Jimnastik Kulubünü are black and white.  The are probably the most proletariat of the three major teams.  While I lived in New York, I thought that Galatasary was the only Turkish soccer team.  While I totally acknowledge my naivete, it does speak a bit to the socio-economic class of the Turks that I knew while I was in New York.

The Çarşis seem like a most interesting group.  I liked the picture Batuman painted of them.  I liked their irreverent attitude and the support they give to any underdogs as they perceive themselves as such.  The express their affiliation with the down trodden and disenfranchised with banners and slogans:
 

“We Are All Black.”  proclaimed one banner, after rival fans had made reference to the race of the French-Senegalese Beşiktaş star Pascal Nouma.  When Fenerbahçe disparaged a Beşiktaş manager whose father had been a janitor, there were banners saying “We Are All Janitors.”  And when an internal committee of astronomers removed Pluto from the list of planets Çarşi took up the cause:  “We Are All Pluto.”

As a so named Gavoor, how can I not appreciate this irreverent and fun attitude?  It made me wonder about when Hrant Dink was murdered and thousands of Turks took to the streets with banners stating “We Are All Hrant Dink” and “We Are All Armenian.”  Did the Çarşis influence this or did that event influence the Çarşis?  I am guessing the latter. 

Either way, “We Are All Pluto” is pretty funny... assuming this was not some backhanded swat at the murder of Hrant Dink.   

It is not all peaches and cream, however.  Soccer fanaticism and hooliganism comes with more than a fair share of idiotic and partisan violence and Çarşi is not above this.

One of the heads of Çarşi is an Armenian named Alen.

A headline in a political magazine once called the Beşiktaş stands “the only place where the Armenian problem has been solved.”  Popular cheers have included “Alen for Pope” and, on Easter, “Bless us, Alen.”

I suppose the fanaticism for a team can overcome national politics.

Either way, I am not a huge soccer fan apart from the World Cup.  I never even considered being a fan of a Turkish soccer team, but after reading this piece:  Go Beşiktaş!

On Wisconsin! On Wisconsin?

There  is much going on in the world.  There has been regime change in Tunisia and apparently one, maybe, in Egypt.  People have taken to the streets and demanding better lives, equality, and democracy.  The unrest has spread to Bahrain, Libya, Iran, and even Wisconsin.  Yes, Wisconsin.  

People have taken to the streets in Madison the capital of the Dairy State.  They are demanding justice and calling for regime change.  Who are these people?  Why do they want regime change?  What the heck is going on?

The people in the streets are teachers and other state workers.  They are fighting the Republican governor and Republican led state legislature who want to balance the state budget by changing the collective bargaining rules or in this case actually eliminate most of the collective bargaining rights of state workers.  By essentially busting or weakening the unions, the state would lower the overall compensation of state employees, save money, and balance the budget.

Governor Scott Walker has become to some the Moammar Khadafi of Wisconsin and to others, well, the Sarah Palin of Wisconsin.   The Democratic members of the legislature have left the state and taken refuge in IL and MN so that there will not be enough members to actually vote on the governor's proposal.  Doctors have given teachers notes to justify their "sick" leave so they are free to protest in Madison.  For the past few days thousands have shown up to protest the governor’s actions.  There were close to 70,000 protesters on Saturday, February 19th.

70,000 is a lot of people.  It is a meaningful number.  Does that mean all the people are behind the teachers and other state workers in Wisconsin?  I am not so sure.  I am not so sure there is a strong base of support for unions in this country anymore.  In the past year or so, we have transitioned from to have the majority of union members in the US working for local, state, and the federal government.  This is a first.  For most of the history of organized labor, government employees were a minority among union members.  Union members were factory workers and truck drivers.  With the movement of large swaths of our manufacturing to Asia or to right to work states in the south, union membership in these sectors have shrunk dramatically.  Remaining unions in these sectors have less and less power.

Why less power?

Unions get their power from being able to withhold their labor and disrupt commerce.  Steel workers, UAW members, and Teamsters were once able to do this with great effectiveness and led to a broad based prosperous middle class in the US during the 1950’s through the 1970’s.  But, with globalization and the right to work sun belt states, corporations have moved their manufacturing and warehousing to non-union venues.  If existing unions are too demanding, companies will simply up and move their operations and essentially bust the union.  Union membership and power have waned to the point we are where we are today.

Furthermore, most non-government US workers have seen the elimination or severe limitation of their pensions.  They have also seen the erosion of their other benefits such as health care coverage.  Not only has coverage changed but there has been an increase in how much employees must contribute towards to support their benefits.   By comparison, government workers have kept their pensions and experienced less erosion of their health benefits.

In Wisconsin, we have seen a lot of snippets of teachers and others determined to save their collective bargaining rights.  The rhetoric is a throwback to the heyday of organized labor.  Their words are passionate and strong.  I actually have empathy for the teachers.  They chose this profession and took jobs essentially buying into the unwritten contract that they would work 25-30 years retire with full pensions and health care.  They would never get rich but they would certainly be comfortable, working in a generally fulfilling profession, and getting two and a half months off.
 
Now imagine you are ten, fifteen, or twenty years into this career and the state is about to do to you what has happened to most of us in the private sector.  Anyone would be mad as hell and quite vocal about protesting what can only be perceived as a rape.  

My question is what kind of support they will get from the rest of the taxpayers.  Government workers in my mind have been the final frontier in pension reform/elimination and benefit erosion.  The recent recession resulted in a reduction of revenues to the states and we have all heard of the astronomical deficits in California and Illinois to mention just two.  This has put the spotlight on government workers.  Their jobs, their wages, their pensions, and benefit packages are all vulnerable as states try to cope with balancing budgets.

I have great empathy for what many of these workers will be experiencing.  I have somewhat less sympathy because, sadly, it is simply their turn in the barrel.

The American Dream?  Does it now exist only in the history books?

Book Review: The Gendarme by Mark T. Mustian

Amy Einhorn Books/Putnam
September, 2010
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004J8HXS6/ref=cm_li_v_p_self?tag=linkedin-20

I just finished this book which I received as a Christmas present.  When I first read the dust jacket blurb, I thought:  "eh... I am not sure I will enjoy this.  The premise is too far fetched."  I read it because I was interested, call it morbid curiosity if you would like,  in seeing how the author, Mark Mustian, would develop the plot.  I also read it because I have, as many Armenians do, an equally morbid curiosity in hashing, re-hashing, and forever trying to make sense of the Armenian Genocide.  So, I read it the book and must commend Mark Mustian for weaving what I believed was a lame premise into a very good and engaging novel.  

Mustian attempts to relate the Armenian Genocide from the point of view of Turkish Gendarme charged with taking a group of Armenians from Harput to Syria.  This fellow Emmett Conn, the anglicized version of the man born as Ahmet Khan, lost much of  his memory from an injury sustained after the Genocide at the Battle of Gallipoli.  Circumstances lead him to end up in the United States living in the state of Georgia.  At the end of his life, Emmett begins having dreams of his role in the ethnic cleansing of Armenians from Turkey.  The book is about the piecing together of his memory and coming to terms with his past and past actions before he dies.

I do not want to dwell more on the plot and the details of the book.  The power of the premise and how Mark Mustian brings it to life is powerful.  The reader needs to let the novel guide him and part of the experience is lost if the entire plot is laid out in a review.  It is noteworthy to add that Mustian has done a wonderful job writing about the Genocide and forced march form an Armenian region from the point of view of a Turkish Gendarme.  Armenians tend to portray Turks as villains and heartless enemies.  They are not often humanized in the way Mustian has.  I am not certain if any other author, Armenian, Turk, or one of another nationality has attempted this.  I believe it has been done with the Holocaust.  The only example that comes to mind is the 1974 film, The Night Porter which was quite a controversial and disturbing film.

Mark Mustian is a bit like Michael Arlen, the author of Passage to Ararat.  He came to realize and investigate his Armenian background later in life.  Mark Mustian knew of his Armenian heritage but he is not prototypical in that he did not have a grandparent or great-grandparent that went through the horrors of the 1915 Genocide.  In fact, his paternal grandfather immigrated to the Unite States so much earlier than most Armenians that he fought for the Confederacy in the Civil War.  If he has enough information and background, I would hope to see Mark Mustian write the story of his grandfather.    

In this 30s, Mustian became interest in his Armenian heritage was kindled when he read Peter Balakian’s Black Dog of Fate.  Reading that book inspired Mustian to learn more about Armenians in general and the Genocide more specifically.  He was so inspired that he took a trip to Turkey and Syria from August 1-8, 2008.  I can imagine the idea for the book was born from that trip.  Mustian has posted a brief travel log on the his website:  http://www.markmustian.com/mmustian-travelogue.htm  

Also like Michael Arlen, Mark Mustian embraced his heritage or part of his heritage.  The cynical would say both of them embraced their heritage because there was a book in it for them.  Maybe so, but I look at this glass as half full.  I am amazed how these two literary gentlemen responded when they were exposed to Armenian people, history, and culture.  Both of them were fascinated enough to make trips.  Michael Arlen went both to Armenia (Soviet Armenia in those days) and Turkey.  Mark Mustian went to Turkey and Syria.  That is no mean commitment to learning something new about ones background.

Both men also being fixated and obsessed with the Genocide.  Mustian’s entire book is dedicated to this huge, grim, and recent  episode in Armenian history.  And why should they become fixated and obsessed?  Most serious Armenians are obsessed with it.   We all think and write about it.  We are still trying to come to grips with it and get closure on it 96 years after the fact.  As Mustian points in the suffix of the book that many modern Turks do not understand why Armenians are obsessed with the events of 1915.  The Turks have moved on.

Of course, they have moved on and only dwell on these events from 1915 when Armenians raise it to the levels of national and international press and politics.  The victors, the vanquishers, never dwell on the negative parts of their wins.  Turkey survived and emerged from the ravages of World War I and the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire with a Republic that for the most part has thrived.  They celebrate that and do not dwell on how they secured that and who might have suffered along the way.  It is no different than the United States.  We celebrate our “purple mountains majesty from sea to shining sea.”  We do not dwell on the native peoples whose land, lives, and lifestyles we destroyed to take over the land.  Many Americans are surprised at how much the remaining American Indians are obsessed and fixated on this.  The dynamic at hand is quite clear... at least to me.

One can also read a short biography of Mark Mustian on the website.  You will learn that beyond being an author, he is a lawyer and city commissioner in Tallahassee, FL.  If nothing else, I highly recommend reading the backstory  http://www.markmustian.com/mmustian-gendarme-backstory.htm.  It is exactly like the backstory in the novel, I would have called it a suffix, appendix, or have put it at the beginning and called it a prefix.   Read it... it is a good, short, piece of writing.

The Gendarme is quite well done and worth reading if the subject matter appeals to you.  It is interesting if you are Armenian and should be of interest to Turks as well.  I would generally recommend it to anyone. 

Stress Kills

This is going to sound like a major “duh, well yeah.”  

I came to the conclusion this morning that I really do not like stress.  Not at all.  Not one little bit.

My favorite definition of stress is an old and humorous one:

Stress is the most unnatural suppression of the most natural urge to choke the living shit out of some asshole that desperately deserves it.

OK, I might have left out the profanity and violent suggestion thereby making the definition more politically correct, but the profanity and violence really does drive the point home.  Stress is the churning up of emotions and feelings until they cross from mind to body causing the adrenaline to be released but where there is no real fight or flight option to dissipate the adrenaline.  The result is tension, aggravation, anxiety, and physical discomfort.  

The Merriam-Webster definition is: 

A physical, chemical, or emotional factor that causes bodily or mental tension and may be a factor in disease causation.  http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/stress

Prolonged stress can may manifest itself in an illness.  General lore seems to link it to hypertension and heart attacks.  Minimally, stress makes me sullen, irritable, or ornery.

Sure there are external causes of stress.  There are any number of political self-serving people that we are forced to deal with.  There are mean nasty folks that revel in creating situations in which others twist, turn, cringe, and suffer in the stress they induce.  There are overbearing bosses, family members, and friends that we have to deal with.  All of these, can and do cause stress.

I am writing this because I spent a stressful weekend dealing with some office politics which could have some bearing on my immediate future.  I hated the feeling and hated having the stress dominate my weekend.  As I mulled over who I ought to be strangling per the comic definition of stress, I came to realize that I was the culprit.  Me?  Causing my own stress?  Impossible!  

No very possible!

The best way I can illustrate how this is possible is by these very profound quotes that I also referenced in my October 2010 letter.  http://thissideoffifty.blogspot.com/2010/10/october-2010-motivational-quotes.html

• I am not upset by events but rather by the way I view them. -  Epictetus
• The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what we want for what we want at the moment. - Suprina Berenyi

Most of the people that induce stress and stressful reactions are just being themselves.  Their behavior probably will not vary much if the same situation, the same set of circumstances, happened over and over again.  Why then must my reaction always be the same?  

Epictetus is absolutely right.  People that divert stress the best have learned to deflect both the inane and self-serving behavior of others that causes stress.  If the external stimuli are not likely to change, the prudent person ought to adapt and change his or her ways so not to experience undo and unwelcome stress every time the stimuli is present.   Simple to say... harder to do.

Suprina’s quote can also be changed slightly to apply to self-induced stress.  Constantly trading off what I supposedly want for what I want right now can be very stressful.  Watching it happen to day after day is quite stressful and truly ends up causing chronic unhappiness.  This exact dynamic is why Twelve Step Programs exist to help those truly addicted to this kind of behavior.
 
Getting back to Epictetus, I must note that his name is not near the top of Greek philosophers.  Plato, Socrates, and Aristotle seem to have a much greater fan base.  Who was this fellow?  Again via the magic of the Worldwide Web, I can easily report that Epictetus was a stoic philosopher who lived from 55 -135 AD.  The crux of his beliefs were essentially in the quote referred to above and these few lines from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epictetus. 
 

To Epictetus, all external events are determined by fate, and are thus beyond our control, but we can accept whatever happens calmly and dispassionately. Individuals, however, are responsible for their own actions, which they can examine and control through rigorous self-discipline. Suffering arises from trying to control what is uncontrollable, or from neglecting what is within our power.   

I like the practical approach of Epictetus.  I really need to know what I can and cannot control.  He calls what cannot be controlled as fate.  I may call them random events or shocks.  Probably, we are in agreement that we cannot really truly control the actions of others.  Thus, I need to learn not to get stressed by these kinds of things.  

Yet, there are things in my control.  If these things become the cause of stress, they are entirely on me.  I therefore would have to choke the living shit out of myself.  In the work environment, the actions and behaviors can be mitigated by the things I can control.  If I am proactive, control my numbers and results, and am always sharing these outputs, a lot of what others do to bend the truth in their direction is easily thwarted.   Beyond being proactive in dealing with others, I need to be very active in working for what I want and not trading that off for what I want right now.

It is funny to note that Epictetus did spend some part of his childhood as a slave.  That had to have greatly influenced his philosophy.  There was a lot he did not have control over.  I would guess slaves do develop an accepting go with the flow attitude simply to keep from going insane.  While going with the flow, he probably also learned that if he was proactive and stayed ahead of his chores and out of the way of whoever might mean him harm, he would also be OK.  This sounds pretty darn stoic to me!

There seems to be another approach and I alluded to it earlier.  Instead of being a major stress magnet, I could be a consummate stress inducer.  History is full of these kinds of characters.  I believe they are called despots and dictators.  Consider the stress that has been caused by the likes of Stalin, Castro, Hitler, and others.  By creating incredible stress in everyone else, I supposed these guys slept well.  But, this is not for me.  The only person I can consistently induce stress in seems to be myself.  

I like the practical approach of Epictetus and Suprina.  I shall attempt to live more by this code.

February 2011: Seventh Anniversary Letter

My monthly letter is now eight years old. I am amazed when I think I have been writing this letter consistently for so long. I am even more amazed that I have been writing five hundred words a day since June 25, 2002. It has been a wonderful ride that just keeps getting better and more fun. Writing is definitely a major part of my life these days. In January 2009, I created a blog, http://thissideoffifty.blogspot.com/, and have posted all sixty of my letters there. I have continued to post letters there and mail them out by email.

In September 2009, I wrote and posted my monthly letter as usual. But, I used my daily writing to write two articles both of which I posted on the blog. I liked the idea of using my daily writing more productively than meandering about until the theme for my monthly letter popped. This began with my writing for our business blog: http://www.demandcaster.com/supply-chain-physics-blog/. I also thought to move from handwriting in a notebook to writing more on my laptop. In these regards, 2010 has been a great year.

Just on This Side of Fifty, I posted 44 pieces or 32 postings beyond my monthly letter. June was the only month I only posted once. I posted 8 pieces in both April and December. In April, 7 of the postings were my travel log and reflections while in Istanbul. In December, I just had a lot to say. I also continued to contribute to our business blog.

In July 2010, I realized that blogger, the google based blogging service I use, actually tracks hits. I could track hits by posting. It tracks hits by country and search words used. In October, I finally realized people use twitter and Facebook to drive traffic to their blogs and websites... duh. In July, I had 801 hits. By December, I had 2,016. I had 6,491 hits from the United States as the number one country source. Surprisingly, Germany is number two with 235 hits. I have even had 124 hits from Turkey and 64 from Armenia. These are not stellar numbers by any means but it has been fun to track and try to grow the numbers.

Speaking about stellar numbers, there is a blog called Monday Morning Quarterback by Peter King of Sports Illustrated. His blog has hundreds of thousands of followers. He has over 920 thousand followers on twitter alone and has posted over 9,000 tweets. This fellow has created something of a writing career that is very successful and very Internet based. This is something to aspire to. It is not enough simply to write well and often, one must get an audience. There is a need to go viral i.e. to build up a critical mass of readers and followers who recommend you to others so that readership and followers grow, well, like a virus. It is slow at first and then mushrooms exponentially.

I am very familiar with the slow growth part of the curve.

The top ten most read postings are:

Buried Armenian Treasure Nov 21, 2010, 3 comments  310 Pageviews

Christmas 2010 Dec 25, 2010, 2 comments   213 Pageviews

iPad, Nook, Kindle, or Wait Some More? Nov 20, 2010, 6 comments   176 Pageviews

How to Choose a Speech Topic Aug 11, 2010   169 Pageviews

Armenians Invented Clothes Oct 28, 2010, 1 comment   150 Pageviews

Rich Rod & Michigan Football Dec 12, 2010   145 Pageviews

The Lost Cyclist by David V. Herlihy Aug 31, 2010, 2 comments  121 Pageviews

Review: Family of Shadows by Garin K. Hovannisian... Oct 3, 2010, 3 comments  118 Pageviews

Michigan vs. Notre Dame 9-11-10 Sep 12, 2010   118 Pageviews

December 2009: An Eventful Year Dec 30, 2009   110 Pageviews

Note that only #10 was a monthly letter. Numbers 1 and 5 were also posted on www.Keghart.com. Many of the hits on “Buried Armenian” Treasure came from Turkey. I am wondering who is reading this there and why? I got the highest compliment ever from cousin Richard Hovannisian, the esteemed Professor of Armenian History at UCLA, who simply said “very meaningful piece...” I felt like I got an A in a very demanding course. I wanted to show that report card to my Mom. In fact, I think I did.

I am amazed that “How to Choose a Speech Topic” is number 4 on the list. I have done nothing to promote it. It was simply something I wrote after attending the meeting of my Toastmaster’s club. It also turned into the speech I presented at the next meeting. I have done nothing to promote that page via twitter or any other means. I suppose when people search “speech topics” they find this posting even though it is not on the first page.

In December when I was writing a lot, I really felt like a bona fide writer more than anything else. I was actually wondering how I could begin to perhaps, you know, even try to make some money writing. I even began envisioning writing as a second career. Ideally, I would love to retire to a career of teaching, speaking, and writing. It is still a viable aspiration. The path is and has been to write a book. I still like the title of “An Attempted Mid-Life Crisis.” I had better get cracking on that while I am still in mid-life! When does that end by the way?

In January, I began another blog, Song to Aging Children - songstoagingchildren.blogspot.com, it is dedicated to people of my generation. The goal is to have baby boomers who came of age in the years 1967 - 1975 to reflect on their adolescence and how what they thought then influences how they view the world today. Whereas This Side of Fifty is all my own writing, I want Songs to Aging Children to be less than 10-20% of my writing. I want to hear from as many others as possible. I think our perspective is unique because of the nature of the times when we were growing up. This was inspired by my November 2008 letter, “Was it the Weirdest of Times?” - http://thissideoffifty.blogspot.com/2009/01/november-2008-was-it-weirdest-of-times.html. If you are of that certain age and want to contribute, I would be most appreciative. I would love to see hundreds of postings on this blog and thousands of visitors. Oh, the aspirations and delusions of grandeur!

Google Docs: Usually in these annivrsary letters, I write about the kinds of pens I use to write my daily pages. I switch between Rotrings, Caran D’Aches, and Uni-balls for the 25% of the time I actually handwrite. As mentioned about, I mostly type these days. At first, I used to use Microsoft Word exclusively when working by PC. That is no longer the case.

One of the big issues with PCs is that I use several different PCs in a given day. I use my laptop at home. I have a desktop at my client and use school computers at the College of Lake County (CLC) and Keller where I teach Statistics in the evening. If I begin writing on any of these work or school computers, I have to remember to email the file to myself or carry around a thumb drive. There are problems with both of these options. I simply forget to email the files about half the time. Yeah, that is so me. As for thumb drives, they are a most efficient way to transmit viruses to my personal laptop. I found this out the hard way. The CLC network is a viral cesspool with some of the latest and nastiest viruses. My poor little laptop needed some serious attention. So, the thumb drives sit idly in my briefcase.

Ara Surenian, my valued business partner and all around technology guru, pointed out the possibility of Google Docs. Basically, it is a cloud based equivalent to Microsoft Office with word processing, spreadsheets, and presentation applications. Instead of saving the files on a hard drive, they are saved on a Google server like my emails, photos, and blog. I can access any file from any computer from which I can connect to the internet and sign on to my Google account. As a result, I have a virtual hard drive that follows me around wherever I go, like a cloud over me head... hence the terms Cloud Based Computing or Cloud Based Applications. It is very cool. For business, Ara and I share and collaborate on documents this way.

I have written this letter entirely in Google Docs.

February 2, 2011: As is my habit in these February Anniversary letters, I like to take one day’s writing and post it verbatim. Today is the perfect day for that as it is a snow day. Everything in Chicago was closed from 2 pm yesterday through the end of today. Many schools already announced that they will also be closed tomorrow. It was a great day to be home based, enjoying the massive amounts of snow that has fallen. I am not sure of the official measurement but it appears that we have had at least two feet.

The snow stopped today at 1 pm or so. Almost immediately, the sun came out. With the sun, I ventured out to take some photos which is something I like to do after a huge snow storm. I love the snow covering everything in a blanket of pure white. It is one of the beautiful things about living someplace with four seasons. The pure white and quiet doesn’t last but that first day. As we dig out and get back to our routines, the snow settles and gets a little grayer from the grit and grime in the air and from our cars.

People used today as a catch-up day. I certainly did. It was great to knock lingering things off of the to-do list. The backlog was getting to weigh heavily on me. I made a dent but not nearly as much as I would have liked. I could use another snow day. It made me realize just how much we have crammed into our lives in these times. I actually believed in the morning, that I would get so much done and still have time to finish and mail out this letter. Now, at 9:21 pm, I am certain that will not not happen.

Today was also Groundhog Day. In Puxsutawney, Pennsylvania, the “official” groundhog did not see a shadow and thus, as tradition lore would have it, we are in for an early spring. That is kind of funny prediction seeing the kind of severe winter weather we have today and the fact that single digit temperatures we will have in the next few days. 

One of the cable channels was running a Groundhog Day Marathon. They were showing the 1993 movie of the same name directed by Harold Ramis and starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell for 24 hours. The movie has become a classic. I watched it while grading papers this afternoon. The premise is that a jaded weatherman, Bill Murray, is sent from Pittsburgh, against his will, to cover Groundhog Day in Puxsutawney. A snow storm keeps him and his crew from leaving town that night and he keeps waking up in Puxsutawney and reliving Groundhog Day over and over again. He is the only one that knows this is happening. It does not end until he becomes a better person and realizes his love for his producer played by Anide MacDowell. It is very well done quite clever, thoughtful, and funny. I have seen it several times and thoroughly enjoyed half watching it while hopefully not mis-grading the papers.

I am sure if every day was a snow day it would get pretty boring but every once in awhile, it is a most welcome treat.

Reading Others: In every anniversary letter, I expound on other writers I have read and admired. First and foremost on that list is Garin Hovannisian author of Family of Shadows. I reviewed his book. It is #7 on the list of top ten most read postings on my blog. Garin wrote a very well done and touching portrait of four generations of the Hovannisian and Kotcholosian families.

I also read and enjoyed The Lost Cyclist by David Herlihy. It is the #6 most read posting on my blog. Herlihy recounts a most fascinating tale of the early days of bicycling in the 1890s. A young Pittsburgh native, Frank Lenz, who set off to cycle around the world. Lenz is reported missing just outside of Erzeroum. It is a grim time in that part of the world with the 1895 Hamidian massacres looming. It was a fascinating story well told by Herlihy.

I will not expound more as both books were reviewed on my blog. Please follow the links in the aforementioned top ten list to read them.

Thanks: I would like to thank everyone who has been so supportive of my writing over the past year. Tommy Vartabedian, a great newspaperman, is first and foremost on this list. He is always encouraging and always complimentary. His support means a great deal to me. I thank my son, Aram, for his editorial contributions. Judy for here support in general. I thank Mark Axelrod, Marty Shoushanian, Dale Dvorak, Ruth Swisher, Nadya Uygun, David Gavoor, and Greg Postian for commenting on and acknowledging many if not every letter I send out.

Thanks to Ara Topouzian for not writing and giving me grief for not mentioning or thanking him.

Thanks to Raffi Bandazian and Ara Surenian for encouraging me to move things to a blog. Special thanks to Marilyn Zavidow, my Westport, CT to Grand Central train buddy, who was a great collaborator in the planning of the letter and actually came up with the name This Side of Fifty. Lastly, I thank the man I never met, Aram Kevorkian, whose own letters inspired my to write a monthly letter to friends and family. He passed away in December 2003 and my first letter was emailed out in February 2004.