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Many years back when my husband, was the head of the international marketing department in a major US company, the Ukrainian Embassy in Manhattan invited us to a formal reception. The party was in the honor of their visiting president.
At the reception, I found the atmosphere to be warm and friendly; as the smiling, middle-aged president and his curly-haired, plump wife went around greeting the guests.

The moment the Ambassador set his eyes on my husband; he opened his arms as if he was going to embrace him. It was apparent that he knew him quite well. Then, after greeting each other, my husband introduced me to him and his wife.

As the president began asking us questions, while his wife kept on smiling with me, my husband asked the president, “I know you have a busy program during your visit Sir, but do you think you can find time to dine with simple people like us?”
The Ukrainian president retorted, “Of course my friend! My wife and I would love to have lunch with you tomorrow and your family. That’s the only time I can spare.”

“Oh Great…! I’ll give our address to one of your people,” Caro exhorted, looking excited, as my heart skipped a bit.

“Oh God, help…!” I told myself. I thought how we were going to prepare things within such a short time to entertain an important political figure.

That night, I spent the rest of my time at the Embassy feeling anxious. Then when we left that tortuous party, I turned to my husband and exploded, “Are you crazy? How can we entertain the president of Ukraine and his wife within such a short notice?”

He said, “Don’t worry. I know exactly what these people like. I’ll go to Zabar’s and buy a ton of cold cuts. Then, I’ll go to the supermarket and get a big bucket of ice cream. I promise you that we’ll be fine.”
However, I hardly closed my eyes that night. I was so worried that we were going to ridicule ourselves.

In the morning, my husband went to Zabar’s to buy cold cuts, and our son and his fiancé took a taxi to Petrossian’s in Manhattan to get some caviar. Our daughter, in turn, went to the bakery, while I began putting order to our apartment and setting the table.

I had hardly started setting the table, when the doorbell rang.

I looked through the peephole to see who it could be and noticed a dark haired man with dark glasses.
“Shall I open the door or not?” I asked myself.
Then I remembered that the door attendants twenty three stories down would not allow anybody to come into the building if they did not trust the person. Therefore, I opened the door and found three other black attired men with greased dark hair and glasses staring at me. The fellow standing in front showed me a badge and said, “Secret police.”

“What’s wrong?” I demanded, feeling uneasy.

“We have to check your residence before the Ukrainian President’s visit.”

Thus, they checked every nook and cranny in our apartment, before they said, “Everything’s all right,” and left.
Apparently, the whole time that the Ukrainian President was at our place, downstairs at the entrance of our building, there were police and security guards waiting by his black bulletproof vehicle.

After the president and his wife left, having enjoyed their lunch and a large container of ice cream, I dropped my exhausted body into an armchair and took a long and deep breath.

“See,” my husband, uttered. “It wasn’t as bad as you were worried about…!”

“No, you are right, but I can’t understand how they could empty a full container of ice cream.”

Later, when I visited The Soviet Union with my husband, I learned why the president and his wife gulped down the whole container of ice cream. The reason was that in the Soviet Union, it was impossible to find good ice cream.

https://arminehhelenohanian.com/stories-of-life-2/

I was hardly ten. My father had passed away the year before, and we – a Christian family of five kids and our mother – lived in the city of Arak in Iran. Although I missed my father immensely, I was happy living in our beautiful house with its two-acre green and heavenly land and the magnificent large terrace. What’s more, I adored our huge and bright sunny rooms.

I remember how much fun I had playing in our yard with my cousins when they visited us with their mother in the summer. We would chase each other along the flowerbeds of red, yellow, and white rose bushes and tall trees. Alternatively, we would play in our farm attached to our garden where there were lambs, cows, a white donkey, and some goats. We also had a two-room residence for our head servant in the farm. Now after my father’s death when we could not afford to have any servants, my mother had rented it to our previous servant’s eldest son, Ahmad and his wife.

One day, as I was playing with my cousin, Vartan and his sister, Flora with the baby lambs, we noticed that Ahmad’s door was open. My cousin, who was a prying, naughty boy, peaked his head into their room and called out, “Hey guys come…come and see. This man and his wife are doing something funny on their couch.”

Flora and I immediately left the baby lambs to join Vartan. As we stared into the room, we were amazed to see husband and wife lying on top of each other. I as a nine-year-old girl had no idea what was going on. However, Vartan, who was about my age, began laughing and yelled, “They are busy making a baby.”

I was very shocked. I looked at Flora for an answer. She, who was two years older than Vartan and I, smiled and grabbed our hands and pulled us away.

That day, until the time I went to bed, I kept thinking about what my cousin had said about the couple making a baby.

“Isn’t God the one, who wishes for each child to be born to people?” I kept asking myself. “So how can they make their own baby?”

A week later when my cousins and their mother had gone back to their town but left their youngest brother behind with his aunt, I did something stupid. Their brother must have been around four years old. There was another little girl, who was our neighbor’s child. She would also come to our garden and play.

One morning when I was with the above two kids in the garden, I turned to my little cousin and said, “You know what?”

He asked curiously, “What…what?”

I said, “Why don’t you lie down on the floor with this little girl and make a baby?”

He looked at me strangely and answered, “No. I don’t want to lie down with her. I don’t like her!”

Thinking about it today, I tell myself what a stupid, but curious girl I was.

Reviewed by Laura H. (Reader) 4/8/2019

The cover of this book gives readers a glimpse at what is inside with its precise yet unique look. The telling of a culture and life the majority of people will not live — is revealing.
From the first page, the author has readers yearning to discover the journey this family will take.
Each section melds to form one cohesive story of a most unusual family. Writing chapters that can stand alone, make this publication perfect for people who have only a few minutes to read at a time.
Writing the events and writing the feelings using the voice of the main character allows readers the experience of feeling they are part of the scene.
This book would be enjoyed by all ages.

Reviewed by Dennis De Rose
1/5/2018

Armineh is a great storyteller. She has written a great fictionalized memoir of her earlier life in Iran as a young girl,an Armenian Christian at that. Thank you Armineh. Check it out in Amazon today especially if you’ve ever wondered what it was like to live the life of a young faithful Christian girl in a country that does not look too kindly toward them. The story has all the ingredients of a page-turner,although it’s not a thriller. The attraction was,for me, that it was different,something I’d never read about before. The Iranian culture is so foreign to most of us. This book tells it like it is and was. Armineh leaves nothing out. It`s a story of family,faith,love,good times,bad times,childhood adventures,trips to other lands,romance and more. Armineh, please keep writing. You still have another story to tell!

Reviewed by Laura H. (Reader) 4/8/2019

Unusual and Refreshing are the words I would use to describe this book.
From the first word readers are going to be sucked into this most unusual story. I felt as though I could imagine myself in this incredible setting.
Readers want to see what adventures will happen and can’t put the book down until the end.
The intriguing storyline moves right along in a cohesive and understandable way.

REVIEWED BY: ”JANUARY GRAY

Heaven, which is the exact replica of earth, sets out looking for Georges Bizet – the 19th century composer. Bizet died of broken heart after a disasterous and unjust reception of his premier of the Opera Carmen by Parisian critics. However, after his death, Opera Carmen becomes very popular. Martha wishes to find Bizet and let him know about his fame after his death on earth. While searching for Georges Bizet on Planet Heaven, Martha confronts some difficulties, which need to be solved.
When faithful churchgoer Martha arrives late for Sunday services, she can’t figure out why her husband, children, and grandchildren won’t talk to her. It isn’t until the spirit of her beloved but long-dead uncle appears and tells her that she’s at a funeral—her own.
Martha follows her uncle to her new eternal home: Planet Heaven. Unlike various religions’ conceptions of the afterworld, Planet Heaven is pretty similar to Earth.
In the company of her wise uncle and a favorite childhood pet, Martha travels through Planet Heaven. Once in Paris, she sets out on the city streets to find her favorite composer, Georges Bizet. She wants to tell the composer of the famous opera Carmen that despite his long suffering in life, he finally made it big after he died.
Full of adventure, humor, and heart, this madcap tale about living life after death features an ensemble of zany, lovable characters in the vivid and fully imagined world of Planet Heaven.

Reviewed by Edward Phillips
10/24/2017

Clever lady. Fun setting for a book, fun romp in search of Bizet. Why not have a little fun with the afterlife? Good for you!

STORIES OF LIFE

The Clever Turkey

Driving on my way to Riverhead, I was flabbergasted to notice a wild turkey scuttling across the pedestrian crosswalk on route 24.

To me, the bird appeared exactly like a human pedestrian, the way it nicely crossed the road. Then, suddenly noticing the fast moving cars, it became nervous. The turkey, soon began flapping its wings, and within no time it took off into the air.

“What a clever bird,” I cried out. I thought it must have witnessed cars crush birds and animals under their speeding and cruel wheels.