Mittens are getting filled

Mittens are getting filled

In Her Mittens, part 2 (read part 1 here) I’d like to share with our readers some recent developments regarding Mariam & Gayane Torgomyan and their stay with us. As always, I ask for your continued prayers and support. Mariam Torgomyan was severely burnt when she was 2 years old. For the last 16 years she has had NO functional use of her left hand and restricted use of her right hand. The Children’s Burn Foundation has arranged for renowned hand surgeon, Dr. David A. Kulber of Cedars-Sinai Hospital (Los Angeles) to accept Mariam as a patient. The estimated cost for Dr. Kulber’s service, hospital charges, medicine, and specialized medical equipment is $66,000. The Children’s Burn Foundation has appropriated this amount for Mariam’s care. In His Shoes has offered to provide room/board and transportation (to and from surgery/therapy) during the entire medical procedure, which is scheduled to take 6 to 9 months. Afterward they will return to Armenia so that Mariam can enjoy a new lease on life. Mariam and her mother Gayane arrived on July 27. We had a chance to introduce them to the local community through the Youth Ministries Center in Glendale, and even celebrated her "name day" on the Feast of Assumption last week. Despite her physical difficulties and challenges, both Mariam and Gayane possess an exemplary disposition and a remarkable faith in God. (Can you tell by looking at their picture?) Mariam's first surgery takes place on September 2nd. We've already made arrangements for room and board during their stay. Many of our readers have asked how they can help. Below are some very small and practical ways you can bring your participation - to place your hands "In Her Mittens." If you can volunteer or assist with any of the following please drop a line to mittens@inhisshoes.org 1) Transportation: 4-6 hours a week, driving in the Los Angeles metro area. Day of week will vary, but if you're open even for a one-time shot, that's fine too. 2) Transportation: Two (2x) Amtrak train tickets per week - Moorpark to Glendale - $32/each way 3) Cell phone and phone card for U.S./Armenia - $50/month 4) Donation of any amount to pay for incidental expenses (send donation to "St. Peter Armenian Church Youth Ministry, 632 W. Stocker St., Glendale, CA 91202, MEMO: "Mittens") or donate securely on the web. As always, we'll keep everyone informed of Mariam's progress on our website - InHisShoes.org as well as through all the usual channels, including this blog. I look forward to your active participation in this, as well as all of our projects.

In Her Mittens

Mariam Torgomyan is an 18 year old girl from Armenia. In 1993, Mariam burned both her hands while trying to heat water on the stove. She has NO functional use of the left hand and restricted use of the right hand. She has difficulty performing basic life activities and requires continuous assistance from her mother.

The Children’s Burn Foundation (Sherman Oaks) has arranged for renowned hand surgeon, Dr. David A. Kulber of Cedars-Sinai Hospital (Los Angeles) to accept Mariam as a patient. The estimated cost for Dr. Kulber’s service, hospital charges, medicine, and specialized medical equipment is $66,000. The Children’s Burn Foundation has appropriated this amount for Mariam’s care. The entire medical procedure is going to take 6 to 9 months, after which Mariam will return to Armenia to enjoy a new lease on life.

When I first learned about Mariam’s situation I felt it was definitely an area where our In His Shoes Ministries could be of service. In a sense, this is a time to expand our platform and place our hands “In her mittens.”

Mariam arrives next Wednesday – July 29 at LAX. She is accompanied by her mother Gayane. I’m pleased that one of our dear families has agreed to house Gayane during Mariam’s surgery and treatment. I am calling on our In His Shoes members and in particular our church community in Glendale (who will be closer to the daily action) for help.

Specifically, we need assistance with TRANSPORTATION and limited housing help. Can you provide a ride from ho

me to hospital? (Areas of travel will include West Hollywood, Thousand Oaks, Glendale) Can you provide housing during down times (when away from the hospital)? Even more specific - if you can allocate one day a week to be available for pick up and delivery?

I'm also looking for a Project Manager - responsible for coordinating volunteer efforts for transportation between home and family.

There are many ways to help - and certainly, you can earmark a donation to be used for transportation or assistance. Because this is for six to nine months, we’re asking that you continue your donations on a regular basis during her treatment.

Immediately - we need a CELL PHONE - donate $500 (one time, for one-year service).

This is a time for us to come together and help this young girl start anew. Please, place your hands in her mittens. Say thanks to the wonderful doctors and medical staff who are donating their services and care and bring your assistance to Mariam! Here's to a new life for this young girl.

You may use this email to contact me or our staff: mittens@inhisshoes.org

Croatia, Safeway, St. James and a Moon that continues to inspire: Happy 40th

They say that the hand-held GPS I use in my car is technologically more sophisticated than the Apollo 11 Lunar lander. Although I've never really used my GPS anywhere outside of the bounds of California, I guess I can accept such a statement. I remember when a stack of punch cards, the size of the Los Angeles Phone book were needed to program a computer for a simple tic-tac-toe simulation and today my kid runs graphically enhanced arcade style games on his hand held "toy." (And the price for this technology? Have you bought memory lately? They're literally throwing it away. 1 or 2 GB for the price of S&H!)

So we've come a long way in 40 years, but the memory I have of the day that "we" reached the moon is not ready for the bargain-bin of outdated memory modules.

July 20, 1969 was a Sunday. I was 13 years old, at a church picnic organized by the St. James Armenian Church in Los Angeles.

The St. James parish itself was going through difficult times. Bad feelings were lingering from the the sale of the church building on Adams Blvd. and a pending law suit, that the Catholicos himself was trying to step-in and mediate. This was causing division and disharmony in the community. There was talk about deceit, scandal and theft - yup, all the topics that are bulleted under the "church life" header. And with construction taking place on the new sanctuary on Slauson Ave., the annual picnic was relocated to Croatian Park, somewhere in the L.A. area.

Croatian Park was used by the Armenian community frequently for their summer gatherings. I thought the name had something to do with sewing, because my grandmother would "crochet" our sweaters. So I naturally thought Croatian Park was the hangout for old ladies, sitting around with their crochet needles, making their grand kids happy with their handiwork. Little did I realize that the Croats were in an independence struggle just as the Armenian. I'd like to believe this was the reason that we used the facility, though I tend to believe the rental price was probably discounted. Still, Croatian independence was declared the same year as the Armenian's in 1991, so there might have been a greater tie than a cheap place to hold a picnic.

America was in turmoil. We had lost faith in the institutions. The same young president who promised us the moon by the decade's end had been gunned down on our streets and there was much talk about a large scale conspiracy. The year before we had lost MLK and RFK to assassin's bullets. Even the new institutions were failing - there was rumbling that the Beatles were about to split.

So a summer picnic, with Armenian music, friends from the church was a nice little escape for everyone. But on moon landing day? I mean this was historic and if you wanted escape, can you think of any place farther away?

My dad was not really an observer. He would rather participate than watch - but I guess this playground was a bit too far. So that Sunday, July 20, in the midst of this church picnic, my dad told me we're going for a walk. I was excited - we were going to go someplace to watch the lunar landing! A few days earlier, I was up at the crack of dawn to watch Apollo 11 launch. "10-9-8, ignition sequence begins, 6-5...", I can never forget those words from Mission Control. And when they reached "0" it was lift-off, from our old B&W set to the ends of my imagination.

We found a Safeway store. This was one of the first supermarket chains in our area. During those years they had introduced the "Super S" as a branch of Safeway. In Super S you could find non-food items - such as TV's! Yes, we made it - we were going to watch the lunar landing at Safeway on the display sets. I remember there was a TV set on the glass counter. Not too many people, but some had stopped.

There we stood and watched Neil Armstrong place his foot on the lunar soil. It was the completion of one dream and the beginning of another. It was an unforgettable moment.

Hard to believe that 40 years have passed. It's a lifetime away.

The moon has inspired poets and romantics, mystics and philosophers since the beginning of time. It's intrigued scientists. Some say its the same size as the Pacific Ocean - that maybe it was thrown out of there during the early formation of the planetary system? In "Moonstruck" they said the moon was as big as Frank Bigalow's head! An early Jethro Tull song was an ode to Michael Collins, the one of three astronauts that piloted the mother ship and didn't make the decent to the lunar surface. How sad to go all that way and not touch it - but each view of the moon finds its own inspiration - whether on the weightless surface, in Croatia, on the counter at Safeway or from the mother-ship. Our moon is inspiring. And today, I can't resist a harvest moon, a blue moon, an eyelash moon or an eclipsed moon, just to take a break, call the kids outside and observe quietly and in wonder. We stepped on the moon 40 years ago and it still remains away and distant.

When I was a student at the Monastery of Holy Etchmiadzin in the mid-70's, I would walk in the courtyard and pass away my loneliness looking at the moon knowing that it is the same one we all see around the globe, the same moon that has been viewed by every single human being that has EVER inhabited this planet and every human being that will EVER take a moment to look up to the night sky. It's our moon. Happy Moon Day.

For Michael Collins, Jeffrey and Me

by Ian Anderson
Watery eyes of the last sighing seconds,
blue reflections mute and dim
beckon tearful child of wonder
to repentance of the sin.
And the blind and lusty lovers
of the great eternal lie
go on believing nothing
since something has to die.
And the ape's curiosity --
money power wins,
and the yellow soft mountains move under him.
I'm with you L.E.M.
though it's a shame that it had to be you.
The mother ship is just a blip
from your trip made for two.
I'm with you boys, so please employ just a little extra care.
It's on my mind I'm left behind
when I should have been there.
Walking with you.

And the limp face hungry viewers
fight to fasten with their eyes
like the man hung from the trapeze --
whose fall will satisfy.
And congratulate each other
on their rare and wondrous deed
That their begrudged money bought
to sow the monkey's seed.
And the yellow soft mountains
they grow very still
witness as intrusion the humanoid thrill.

Varougan Movsesian 1932-1991

A brief biography of our father
Varougan Movsesian

Varougan Movsesian was born on July 17, 1932 in Marseille, France to Hovsep and Marie Movsesian. At age 5, with his mother and brother Nazaret, he moved to New York, where he met his father for the first time. In 1942 the family moved to California and settled in Los Angeles.

Varougan attended local schools and graduated Marshall High School. He met his future wife, Anna Vartanian and they were engaged to be married in 1952. They were attracted to each other because of their strong love for their Armenian language and heritage. During the Korean War he served his country as a medic stationed at Fort Ord. In 1955 they were married at St. James Armenian Church, Los Angeles.

Varougan and Anna were blessed with four children: Hovsep, Anush, Haig and Sona. With the help and support of his wife, in 1960 he received his doctor of pharmacy degree from the University of Southern California. He practiced pharmacy throughout the Southern California area.

Our dad had a unique love and respect for his Armenian cultural heritage which he shared with mom. They were Armenian when it was not popular to be Armenian. They named us with Armenian names and insisted that we speak Armenian despite the criticism of many who felt it a hindrance to functioning in American society. They taught us the music, dance and culture of our people.

Dad's love for his Armenian heritage was only surpassed by his need to express that heritage. His only fear in life had to do with his homeland. When asked if he would ever go to Armenia, he would admit that he could never go as a tourist and that if he did go, he would not return. He once wrote, "Armenia, she flows in my veins. My eyes see my Ararat in my soul. I am one unto myself, a prison that I cannot escape. My ears hear its music, my soul anguishes its plight and yet we endure and endure and endure. Who wears who out? Am I the mountain or the stone cutter?"

Armenian song and dance were his love. He would wake us up in the mornings to the sound of his violin, crying the songs of a sometimes happy and sometimes sad people.

Dad was an innovator, a pioneer and most of all a man who provided opportunity for people. He taught many the value of being Armenian. He organized the first Armenian dance group which enjoyed recognition throughout the State. Among their achievements included performing at the opening of Disneyland. He set up many Armenian orchestras and bands which became the source of Armenian culture in the Los Angeles area in the 50's, 60's and the 70's. The number of people who he has touched is far beyond calculation.

Our dad stressed the importance of education. He was well read and could carry on a conversation about virtually anything with virtually anyone. Having a strong will and determination he put himself through school. He spared no expense nor hardship to send us to Armenian day schools, and to college. He taught us that nothing is impossible if we are willing to put our minds to it. He was moved by the plight of his ancestors and the martyrdom they endured. He would insist, "It is not for us to give up. It is for us to take, forge, change and strengthen."

Dad was a humble and non-judgmental man. Despite being a doctor, he would never put on airs or make waves. His system was not polluted by the false sense of security that comes with material wealth. He honestly believed people were to be respected not on who they are, nor on the worth of their assets, nor on what they have done, but rather on what they are doing now. He never looked back, only moved forward with his life. Many people did not understand him nor his ways, but then to our dad, that never bothered him. His humility is an example for all of us.

He believed in his Church, he believed in his God without the exaggerated displays of faith. For dad, faith was dead if it was not backed with actions. Along with mom, they made the Church the focal point in our life. Dad believed in our ability to self determination. He taught us to think and reason. He demanded that we respect ourselves as human beings. He challenged us to question authority. Though we never questioned him, we always saw him as authority.

His greatest love in life was his family. With mom, they created a loving home in Los Angeles on Hoover Street. That house became a landmark among the Armenian community. Our friends were their friends. They trusted the way they had reared us and the values they had instilled within us. The house was always full of people. Either newly arrived immigrants, visiting clergy, dignitaries, musicians or just some friends would always find a house full of food, drink and music.

In 1979 he walked his daughter Anush down the isle to be united with Bruce Burr. In 1982 he watched his oldest son marry Susan Boranian. He was blessed with four grandchildren: Nareg, Varoujan, Ani and Sevan. These were his joys. Recently, he saw his "baby" Sona graduate college to further her education in psychology at CSUN.

On February 9, while witnessing his son Haig's khoskgab, with his family around him, with his wife of 35 years at his side and with the sight of his four grandchildren playing before him, dad closed his eyes with his greatest treasures.

As Thoreau writes, "Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed, and in such desperate enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." Dad was a special and unique man. He did not follow the ways of the world, but always strived for something higher, perhaps unattainable. He was a pioneer and an individual in a mechanized society. We are all better for knowing him and growing under his shadow. And we believe the world is just a bit better for having him walk on its surface. We love you dad and will miss you.

Varougan Movsesian is survived by his wife Anna Movsesian, children Fr. Vazken & Susan Movsesian, Bruce & Anush Burr, Haig, Sona Movsesian, four grandchildren, brother Nazareth & Lucy Movsesian, many neices and nephews and a multitude of friends.

Upon the request of the family, in lieu of flowers donations may be sent to the St. Andrew Armenian Church, 11370 S. Stelling Road, Cupertino, CA 95014.