Three Apples: Homesick in My Homeland
a column by Paul Chaderjian for the Asbarez newspaper Once there was and there was not… You feel a wave of air rush from the underground tube in front of you. The subway train is fast approaching Bagramian Station, your local friends are talking non-stop about Eurovision, and the invisible pressure of cold air – what you feel before you hear the hum of the tracks – embraces and chills you. This is your Saroyan moment. He had stood in New York City and missed home, and you are standing in the belly of your Homeland, homesick for Fresno. Instead of the cold air from the tunnels underneath Yerevan, you want to feel the fans at your gym in Fresno. You want to feel the giant fans above cooling you down as you jog on the treadmill, listening to Armenian revolutionary songs. You want to hear the songs that gave you goose bumps, that made you feel connected, the songs that had motivated you, your friends, your generation, and the generation that gave you life. These songs were ...
