paul chaderjian

by Paul Chaderjian Once there were and there were not … Rogue, runaway terror cells can hijack your body and multiply unchecked. They will eventually kill you unless you stop them. We call them cancer, and for several weeks now, not a day has gone by that I haven’t had to write about cancer at work, interview cancer patients, hang out with friends when talk turns to cancer, or see a movie about cancer. My cousin died of cancer at 14, my aunts battled it, and a good friend’s father was diagnosed with breast cancer a bit too late, always reminding me that men are not spared when it comes to this specific type of cancer generally associated with women. During a mad dash weekend trip to Little Armenia to attend a wedding a few weeks ago, I sat with friends at El Cayote on Beverly and heard the story of a young Armenian women. I had met her years ago when she was working to keep others healthy at a hospital. She had recently been married, and soon after her weddi...

BY PAUL CHADERJIAN (Published in Asbarez, August 2011) Once there was and there was not … A massive jetliner approaches Honolulu International. It is the size of a feathered crane from six miles away, wings spread, neck sticking out as it passes above a miniature Coast Guard Cutter that’s gliding across the sun-drenched, orange and blue harbor. Groong, where do you come from? Crane, do you have news from our country? (Groong, oosdi gookas, dzara em tsaynit) In my panoramic widescreen view of the sparkling downtown skyline from my balcony on the 38th floor of One Archer Lane, the jet with hundreds of stories on board is dwarfed by the Waianae Mountains behind, the dramatic clouds above, and the setting sun that pierces through the clouds, silhouetting everything as it reaches to grab my pupils. Hello my heart, hello my life, Hello to you, unfamiliar world, open your door, I have arrived. (Barev kez, undzanot ashkhar, doort patz, yes yega) How long have I bee...

a column by Paul Chaderjian for the Asbarez newspaper Once there was and there was not … This afternoon I pulled off the two-lane Kamehameha Highway on the North Shore of Oahu to watch the mighty Pacific and the brave surfers riding her waves. When I reached for the ignition to kill the engine, I became mindful that blasting on my stereo was Karnig singing “Leran Lanchin.” Mezi hamar zoh knatsin, Tashnagtsootian veh kacher, Khor nnchoom en leran lanchin azadootian mardigner… The moment was surreal: the surf, my new wheels, carefree tourists and natives and bonfires, the scents of charcoal and barbecues, a new life I began on Sunday, April 24, 2011 on an island in the middle of the Pacific, and the words about selfless Armenian heroes who have been laid to rest at the side of a mountain. How do you explain the synchronicity that my iPod would randomly choose from nearly six thousand tunes in its memory a song with minor chords and a melancholic melody hon...

BY PAUL CHADERJIAN PHOTOS BY ROMINA DER BEDROSSIAN You press the record button on your camera, and through the viewfinder you see the relic, an ancient spear bathing in golden light. You zoom in, pushing past its glass casing, and you realize you are inches away from the object that Christ felt tearing open his body. You don’t know why, but at this one moment in your history, the thought of the spear’s existence, knowing you are looking at an object that touched the body of God is overwhelming. You begin to understand that perhaps the relic, validated through the lens of the camera we use to validate our modern lives, is actual, physical proof of the stories you believe with blind faith. You realize why your people have kept this spear close to their hearts for centuries. Your people kept this relic inside the Geghart Monastery, a holy place carved out of the side of a mountain and named after the holy lance. Now, you’re looking at it at Echmiadzin, the spiritual...

a column by Paul Chaderjian for the Asbarez newspaper Once there was and there was not … Some days the Sun seems closer to the Earth. Rays push down like a hundred pound weight. Temperatures soar past 99 degrees. Circulation, respiration, neurons, and cells work overtime, in concert, to keep us functional. We thirst for water, for ice. We crave for shade, for air-conditioning. We want to slow down, to sleep. Night falls on these hot summer days, and I drive to work an hour before midnight to write the news. I drive detached from the weight and severity of daytime. In the dark of midnight, breezes cool the Central Valley. They come as a gifts from the Sacramento Delta. Tigran Hamasyan’s piano accompanies Nune Yesayan as she performs Sayat Nova’s “Kani Vor Janim.” The soundtrack for the night is music from the 2006 Armenia Fund Telethon. I find peace and perfection in this collection. Nune, the Armenia Fund, the Armenia TV Morning Show live from the Cafesjian Center for Art...

by Paul Chaderjian Published: Friday July 16, 2010 Tatev, Armenia - Hundreds of visionaries, philanthropists, government and church officials, and community leaders will gather at the ancient Tatev Monastery in southern Armenia on Saturday, October 16, 2010, for the launch of the innovative and forward-thinking Tatev Revival Project. "Tatev is one of our historic landmarks. It's a crown jewel in our cultural heritage and was for centuries a major focal point and religious center for our people. It was also where we studied theology, humanities, the sciences, and created art and literature," said Zarmine Zeitountsian, Fundraising Coordinator of the Tatev Revival Project. "Tatev is a 9th century landmark that, due to natural causes and centuries of neglect, is now in serious need of conservation and restoration." The Tatev monastic complex underwent a flawed and unfinished renovation attempt in the 1980s under Soviet rule. Rain and snow continue to threate...

BY PAUL CHADERJIAN Once there was and there was not … It’s a picture perfect Sunday morning in Tatev, a serene and remote corner of Southern Armenia. The beauty of this place is so stunning that you have to remind that you are not looking at a computer-generated Hollywood backdrop or an image on an HD screen. This is the real deal. This is the Armenia many will soon discover and want to experience. Sitting in the morning sun, on a green hill across the gorge from the majestic Tatev Monastery Complex is 16-year-old Seryoja. Next to him on the ground is a pick axe, and he’s carrying a burlap sack. From left to right: Seryoja, Paul, Zara Zeitountsian, Anna Arshakyan. Photo by Gagik Siarvyan He sits in contemplation, looking across the Vorotan Valley, its green hills, trees, pastures, the rushing white waters below, and the snow-streaked mountains on the distant horizon towards Karabakh. This Tatev-native says he comes to this very same spot every day on his way back ho...