Three Apples: For When Two of Them Meet Anywhere in the World
By Paul Chaderjian
Once there were and there were not … Trade winds keep the Tiki lounge overlooking Waikiki breezy and cool. Frozen and blended tropical drinks with rum, strawberries and bananas make everyone giddy. “To free and fair elections,” says one of them. They laugh and drink. “Wait, wait,” says another. “To the Genocide museum in DC.” They take another swig. With the panoramic view from the windowless Hula’s as the backdrop, a group of unlikely friends meet to forge a new Armenia in paradise, a new ohana. Beirut. Rome. Vegas. Aleppo. Los Angeles. Tehran. Houston. Manila. They have come from far away places and range in age from 23 to 73. A few are Armenian; others Armenian by marriage. One can shoot you to death from a mile away. Another is known for the best Middle Eastern cuisine on the islands. The oldest in the group is a retiree after a long career in protecting the environment. The youngest in the group is an engineer from the land of the Phoenician...