The Armenian Islamic Tribe – Part I

By Kevork George Apelian

Translated and abridged by Vahe H. Apelian 

 

 

We depart from Qamishli to visit our companion’s, Dr. Garo Hekimian’s, Kurdified nephew, Mehran Hekimian. The road is long but is straight and makes for a smooth ride. The road going from Qamishli to Ras al Ein runs parallel to the Syrian-Turkish boarder. At times it approaches the border so much that the facial expressions of the Turkish soldiers standing on guard on the towers become visible. A barbwire separates the two countries. Once in a while, along the road, we see young girls who are walking in the barren vast expense.

-‘Don’t they go to school, asks Annie?’ Annie is my niece. We are travelling in her husband’s- Tom’s – car. My wife also is accompanying me.

-‘Of course they go. However, after school they work in the fields to pull the plants and collect the lentil and the beans’, replies the doctor.

The comfort in the car contrasts sharply with the scorching desert of this inhospitable terrain. Through these vast expanses almost a century ago my compatriots walked. Hungry, thirsty, bare-footed and emaciated, how did they manage to walk? Those who were massacred in Ras al Ein were done for, the survivors were herded to out far to Der Zor for their final reckoning. How fortunate are the girls we see outside every now and then gathering lentil or bean. They at least have shoes and are not starving and are not emaciated.

We pass through large and small villages. 

-‘Here in this village there are also Kurdified Armenians’, notes Dr. Garo.

What is there to say or do? What Armenian in these places, isolated from the rest of the world, almost forgotten? I wonder. Their forbearers were forced to abandon their beautiful country and settle here. Of course the Armenian settlers here were fortunate. Others had not the opportunity to remain alive.

-‘This is the Amouda village or city like settlement. There are a number of Armenians here as well’, says Garo.

After driving for a considerable period of time we arrive Ras al Ein. We have been told that there is a noted restaurant here, Restaurant Serop. I had been in touch with the man and I was told that he has interesting stories to tell about his father. The man had not volunteered to tell us. We also had neither the heart nor the time to dine. We headed Dr. Garo’s nephew, Mohammad (Mehran) Mahmoud’s house.

The tall statured Mahmoud invited us in. The foreign car had aroused the interest not only of the neighbors and the lads on the streets, but also of the surrounding at large. The host had assured everyone that we were not harmful people. We stepped in, into a long and large hall with twin divisions. The “eastern” side was furnished with pillows and cushions and the “western” side was furnished with armchairs. Hardly had we stepped in we noted, to our great surprise, a wooden bust of King Trdat, an Armenian tricolor scarf, and few other Armenian pictures. What are these artifacts doing in Kurdified Hovhannes Hekimian’s son - Mahmood’s - guest room? I wonder.

There is a bit of a dismissive smile on Mahmood’s face, at the site of our puzzlement.

-‘Our blood is Armenian blood’, he emphasizes.

He wants to know the purpose of our visit. His nephew, Dr. Garo, had already explained to him. However, he wanted to hear from us. I explain. He shakes his head.

-‘I am glad you came, for no one is interested in us. Not the government of Armenia or the Armenian Church. We are people who live on social margin. The Armenians do not accept us, nor do the Kurds. We applied to the Government of Armenia, but nothing happened. You have come out of interest in us, we are thankful.’       

 I gift him a copy of my book’s, titled “Martyrdom for Life”, Arabic translation.

-‘This is our Salman Derbo!’ – exclaims Mohammd Mahmood.

-‘Do you know him?’ I ask.

-‘Of course. His son lives here’ clarifies Mohammad.

He arranges to call a neighbor’s wife who enters the room and sees the book’s cover and is totally amazed.

-‘This’, she says pointing to the picture on the book’s cover, ‘is my grandfather, Salman Drbo. Each and every home of our extended family has this picture hanging on a wall.’

Her father, Khalaf is away. He is the son of Hadjentsi born Aram Keklikian, turned Bedouin Chief named Salman Drbo who is a cousin of the famed Armenian American orthopedic doctor who treated a young soldier named Robert Dole. I autograph and gift a copy of the book to give to Aram’s, that is to say Salman Drbo’s son, Khalaf, and hand the book to his daughter. She is very happy. She stays with us throughout our visit. It is evident that she is pretty liberal minded. She shakes hand with the men and speaks freely.

-‘Ya Mahmood’ I say, ‘we have come to gather information about people like you. What do you have to tell us about your father?’

-‘Whatever I know, I will tell you, says Mohammad Mahmood. My father, Hovhannes Hekimian, was from Geghetsi village of Moush. He was born in 1908. We were told that he had two brothers, named Anto and Avedis. He had two sisters, Srpouhie and Azniv. My father was forced out of Moush and was brought here where he remained. He was a kid in those days. He was named Ebrahem and settled in Meyrkez where he married a Kurdish woman named Khamsa. They have four daughters and four sons. I am the eldest of them. My brothers live in this area. I will take you to our village Meyrkez. I came and settled in Ras al Ein to educate my sons. There is no school in Meyrkez.

-‘Mahmood, how many children do you have? I ask

-‘I have 5 sons’, replies Mahmood. ‘Thank Allah. The eldest is Ebrahem or Apraham. He left the area and went to Europe and settled in Holland. He converted to Christianity there. The whole family was baptized. The names of his sons, my grandsons, are Sevag and Daron. Hence he cannot come to these areas any more. You know, he became a Christian.’

‘My other son is Emir. He has four beautiful daughters. The third is Akram. We call the fourth Ayden. However, he is Vrej. My last son is Arman, that is to say Armen. He serves the Syrian army for his compulsory military service.’

The daughters of his son Emir enter. Indeed, the grandfather has every reason to boast of their beauty. They are well-dressed attractive girls.

-‘Ya brother George, says Mahmood, you do not ask their names. I will tell you. The elder is Nanor, the second is Nairi, the third Armine’, and the fourth if Menar. Beautiful, aren’t they? I mean to say the names.

My companions and I remain speechless at the sight of such beauty and such authentic Armenian names in this part of the world and in such a family. These girls are the granddaughters of Mshetsi Hovhannes Hekimian. They are born and raised in Ras al Ein. They bear the brunt of the consequences of the Genocide perpetrated against their race 94 years ago. In spite of their beautiful names, what will eventually become of them? I wonder.

-‘My daughter is also named Menar’, explains Dr. Garo. ‘It is a name used in Armenia. My Armenia born and raised wife named her.’

-‘I congratulate you Emir’, I say, and add ‘May God guard your daughters. You have given them such beautiful names’.

-‘We are also Armenians’, says Emir. ‘I wanted to learn our Armenian language. I had textbooks brought from Beirut. However, without help I could not learn the language.’

Emir then shows me his cell phone as if to certify that being an Armenian is not an abstract thing for him. There are such Armenian pictures that only a zealous Armenian would carry. They include pictures of the Tricolor, Lisbon 5 and of Armenian emblems.

-‘Akh George, you did not ask me about my wife’, reminds me Mahmood. ‘She is also an Armenian daughter.’

To be continued

Source: originally posted in Keghart.com.

 

 

 

Lest We Forget: Heroes in their own right

 Vahe H. Apelian

Eric Bogosian ends his “Operation Nemesis” book stating that the story that fired his imagination and took seven years of his life to write was his grandfather’s gift to him. In an introspective mood he further notes, “We come into this world with nothing and we leave with nothing. We all know, either implicitly or explicitly, that all we really have is our place in the memories of others. We exist to the degree that we know and remember one another; even the most isolated among us. We share a collective understanding that we are all part of a greater whole”.

I was reminded of Eric Bogosian’s passage while reading Dr. Zaven Messerlian’s book titled “Excerpts Salvaged From the Press” (Մամուլէն Փրկուած Էջեր). The 390-age book is a selection from the many articles Messerlian has written in the Armenian press from 1963 to 2010. Most of the selected articles pertain to Armenian issues and were overwhelmingly posted in the Lebanese-Armenian press. Meticulous record keeping is Dr. Zaven Messerlian’s hallmark.

In addition to the perennial and vital topics such as the Genocide, the "Armenian Question", Diaspora schools, and the Armenian General Benevolent Union, the bilingual (Armenian and English) book contains the eulogies of the late Catholicos of All Armenians of Blessed Memory Vazken I, the acclaimed benefactor Alex Manougian along with many other leading Lebanese-Armenians who are lesser known than these two luminaries but are no less heroes in their own right. The eulogies are replete with biographical information about these Armenians whom the author has known personally. Dr. Messerlian provides vital information about these individuals whose selfless efforts contributed in the budding and blossoming of the post genocide Armenian Diaspora.

Dr. Messerlian has eulogized the following as well: 

Rev. Dikran Kherlopian, 1891-1968. He was an eminent educator, community leader. He founded the Armenological department of the Haigazian University. 

Megerdich Messerlian, his father, 1898-1979. He was a community leader, activist, eminent philanthropist and a noted Lebanese Armenian trader.

Kersam Aharonian, 1916-1981. He was an educator, author and a long-time editor of the Armenian newspaper 'Zartonk' daily. 

Maitre Khosrof Tutunjian, 1894-1982. He was community political leader, editor and an author. 

Ferida Salibian, 1922-1989. She was a long-standing educator. 

Goruyn Keshishian, 1914-1990. He was the longtime director of the Gulbenkian Foundation Armenian Department. Many Armenian students remember reading with trepidation the letter they received from him letting the students know whether they were to receive scholarship from the Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation in Lisbon, Portugal. Generations of Armenian students owe furthering their education to this foundation, including I. 

Khacher Kaloustian, 1915-1985.  In a comment in Keghart.com, his son noted the following about him: “He spent several years in orphanages and managed to earn his own living and school fees starting from the age of seven. His challenge was to pursue his education and obtained his PhD degree from Temple University, USA, in 1966 in education and pedagogy after his BA degree in 1944 from AUB, Lebanon. His dream was to have his own school, which he achieved in 1974. His concern was to educate teachers to teach youngsters and new generations from early childhood. He was ahead of his time by 50 years in his approach. After his demise a center was established in his name, at the Catholicosate of Cilicia in Antelias, Lebanon, with official recognition by the Ministry and qualified on a University Level, where teachers in Armenian schools are taught the methodology of teaching early-age children.”

Papken Megerdichian, MD, 1911-1985. He was a surgeon and director of the Lebanese Armenian Sanatorium, community advocate. 

Asbed Donabedian, 1923-1993. He was an educator and a noted Armenian numismatist who amassed the largest private collection of ancient Armenian coins. 

Ardashes Der Khachadourian, 1931-1993. He was an educator, an eminent Armenian linguist and an author. He was an expert on the history Armenian journalism and had amassed the largest private collection of Armenian journals, newspapers and periodicals.

Hovsep Yenikomishian MD, 1895-1994. He was a noted physician, Armenian community advocate.

Prof. Levon Babigian, 1917-1996. He was a professor of biology at the American University of Beirut, a scientist and an Armenian community advocate,

Levon Vartan, 1925-1997. He was an educator, author and an editor,

 Esther Shirejian, 1908-1999. She was a veteran educator, and a long-standing librarian, 

Dr. Houseg Donabedian, 1916-2003. He was a pharmacist, lecturer and a community leader. 

Antranig Manougian MD, 1910-2008. He was a psychiatrist, longtime director of the Lebanese national psychiatric hospital and the only Armenian evangelical who represented the evangelical community of Lebanon in the Lebanese Parliament.  

Vazken Tutunjian, 1915-2006. He was an educator, author, and a miniaturist. 

 

In final analysis the existence of these dedicated individuals is affirmed only as long as the succeeding generations remember them and appreciate their contributions. Thanks to Dr. Zaven Messerlian they are now enshrined in a book.

Dr. Zaven Messerlian has authored at least 10 books, mostly in Armenian and at least three of them in English. His contribution to Armenian literature and journalism becomes even more impressive when we bear in mind that he is an educator who has been the principal of the Armenian Evangelical College since 1967. Nowadays the school is named after its benefactors Yeprem and Martha Philibosian. He started his teaching career at the same school in 1960 when he was still a graduate student in history at the American University of Beirut. He was not yet thirty when he was entrusted with the mantle of the school's leadership. He remains steadfast on his calling to educate succeeding generations through the heyday of the school when it boasted almost 800 students in 1974-1975--the year that marked the start of the Lebanese Civil War. Along with his administrative and educational responsibilities, Dr. Zaven Messerlian has also established himself as an authoritative historian. 

The publication of the book has been made possible by the foundation set up by Mimi and Armen Haroutunian to cover the printing expenses of Armenian books. So far the foundation has made possible the publication of 40 books.  Dr. Zaven Messerlian may be contacted at P.O.Box 11-129, Beirut, Lebanon or through the school’s email (A_E_C@cyberia.net.lb).

A Blogger’s Thanks

A Blogger’s Thanks

Vahe H. Apelian

Blog, Blog, Blogging and blogger.

Merriam Webster dictionary defines blog as “a regular feature appearing as part of an online publication that typically relates to a particular topic and consists of articles and personal commentary by one or more authors”. As a verb blog means,” to write a blog”; and thus blogging is the act. The person who blogs is called a “blogger”. 

The word blog is a relative newcomer into the English language lexicon. According to Wikipedia ”The term "weblog" was coined by Jorn Barger on 17 December 1997. The short form, "blog", was coined by Peter Merholz, who jokingly broke the word weblog into the phrase we blog in the sidebar of his blog Peterme.com in April or May 1999.  Shortly thereafter, Evan Williams at Pyra Labs used "blog" as both a noun and verb.”

I became a blogger on March 4, 2017 when I posted my first article in my personal blog site that I initiated on the same date. Little did I know then that my blog site would tell me how many read my posting and from where. Today I found out that my blogs were read in the United States, Canada, Germany, Lebanon, Armenia, Bulgaria, Ireland, United Kingdom, Australia, France, Netherlands, Portugal, Greece, Argentina, Russia, Sweden and Syria.

Not only my blog site tells me how many people read a particular blog but it also tells me what operating systems readers used for reading, such as Macintosh, iPhone, Android, iPad, Windows etc. I also found out that most have come across my blogs through Face book. 
Did you note? I said  “blog” but not “article”. It’s a new brave world out there and I need to keep pace with the times. Honestly speaking, I find being a blogger liberating because I do not need to measure my blogs by a writer’s yardstick.

Thus far I have posted 13 blogs in March, 14 in April and 3 thus far in May. Today I also found out that my blogs have had a cumulative exactly 10,000 reads. Of course I do not mean to say 10,000 readers. The numbers of readers of my blogs have varied from 1115 to 115, my very first blog.

I thank all those who have opted to read my blogs instead of doing something else at that moment. Hopefully you found something there that made the time you devoted worth your while.

Bayard Dodge: A Great Friend to the Armenians

Lest We Forget -- Bayard Dodge (1888-1972)

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian

The late Archbishop Mesrob Ashjian posted this article in Simon Simonian’s "Spurk" weekly (Dec. 31, 1972).  Bayard Dodge hailed from a prominent American family. In 1923 he succeeded his father-in-law, the founding president Howard Bliss, and became the third president of the American University of Beirut that had formerly been known as "The Syrian Protestant College". His great uncle, Reverend David Stuart Dodge had been one of the first professors to teach at the faculty in the 1860s

“The Armenian media kept a strange silence at the death of a great friend of the Armenians, Bayard Dodge. Strange, because he was a towering figure in Lebanon and a great number of people have been beneficiaries of his good deeds. He contributed greatly towards the establishment of the Lebanese Armenian community.

It was my pleasure in the last two years to meet him and relive with him the period when caravans of destitute Armenians would arrive in Lebanon and find shelter in orphanages preparing to face life and end up establishing the vibrant present Armenian community in Lebanon. I feel a debt of gratitude towards him and belatedly pen these lines in his memory. More than others, he deserved to be remembered and eulogized by Armenians.

Bayard Dodge was born in 1888 in a family known for its humanitarian missionary zeal. His name, along with that of his father's Cleveland, great paternal uncle Steward, and father-in-law Daniel Bliss remain forever associated with the American University of Beirut (AUB).

After attending Princeton and other top American universities, Dodge headed to Lebanon. It  would become his adopted country. He set foot in Lebanon in 1913 and immediately assumed a variety of responsibilities. His caring heart and generosity of spirit would reveal themselves when he was appointed director of the Near East Relief Association in 1920 where he rendered incalculable assistance to the Armenian orphans. From 1923 to 1948 he acted as president of the AUB. During his distinguished tenure he made the university a center of learning and knowledge to people in Lebanon, in Asia, Africa and Europe.

After his retirement he returned to the U.S. For the next quarter-of-century he maintained his ties with Lebanon and continued to work for the betterment of the country. Prime Minister Saeb Salam eulogized him saying: “Bayard Dodge exemplified the best in Americans. He understood the people of Lebanon as well as the Arab peoples. He identified himself with them and made their social, educational, and national struggles his own.”

Bayard Dodge was also known as a man of faith. Even though he was a devoted Christian he saw much commonality with Muslims. In a statement that appeared posthumously, he said:  “A good Muslim and a good Christian are alike in many ways. It is a blessing that the American University of Beirut was founded in Lebanon, which is a unique country”.

The AUB’s modest and unpretentious president was also a scholar, and a capable administrator devoted to good causes. He was honored by many universities receiving honorary doctoral degrees. Syrian, Lebanese, Egyptian, Iranian, Polish, French, Greek and British governments decorated him with medals of distinction.  In 1960 he was honored the “Woodrow Wilson" award. Suleiman Franjieh, president of Lebanon, posthumously bestowed upon him the National Order of Cedar First Class.

Bayard Dodge died on May 30, 1972. Memorial services were rendered in Princeton and in Lebanon. Alas, we Armenians could not express our gratitude on these occasions for the services he rendered to us, among them for his decisive role in the acquisition of the [Antilias] property for the seat of the Catholicosate of Cilicia.

The world bestowed upon him all the accolades it could. Surely it is the God’s recognition of him as a devoted servant mattered most to him, for he worked tirelessly to live up to the motto of the university he served: “That they may have life and have it more abundantly”.

The Dodges displayed in their home with affection the attached photo of Bayard Dodge receiving the plaque the Armenian community presented to him in 1948 as a token of its gratitude. Also in the photo, Catholicos Karekin I Hovsepian is sitting next to Mrs. Dodge.”

 

Source: Keghart.com

The Cilician Mount Ararat

The Cilician Mount Ararat

Vahe H. Apelian

              Much like Mount Ararat, Gassios Ler  (Կասիոս Լեռ) has been a silent witness to the lives of the Kessabtsis since the original inhabitants set foot at the mountain slope. The mountain rises from the Mediterranean Sea shore and flanks Kessab in the northwest. It commands a majestic view to the traveler approaching Kessab. Gassios Ler may very well be regarded as the Cilician version of Turkish-occupied Mount Ararat.
 

Ler in Armenian means mountain. The Armenian name of the mountain, Gassios, is thought to have evolved from Cassius. Syria was once a Roman province and several “Cassius”s were governors of Syria. Although the Kessabtsis refer to the mountain as Gassios Ler, its official name in Arabic is Jabal Aqra ("Bare Mountain") because of its sparse vegetation. Its summit is approximately 1,800 metres (5,000 ft) and commands a magnificent view of the Mediterranean, Moussa Ler of the famed Forty Days of Mussa Dagh by Frantz Werfel and parts of the historical Antioch through which Apostle Paul traversed spreading Christianity.

The very first stamps of the new  Republic of Armenia depicted Mount Ararat even though the mountain is in Turkey. Much like Mount Ararat, Gassios Ler is part of Turkey as well. However, the Kessabtsis continue to relate to it as their own. Historically, it was part of Armenian Cilicia. The mountain, along with parts of the region (Sanjak of Alexandretta), including part of the Kessab, was annexed to Turkey in 1937-1939. Present-day Kessab was incorporated into Syria, thanks to the appeals of the local Armenians to the European powers. It is claimed that Cardinal Aghajanian played a decisive role in securing present-day Kessab as a remnant of the historical Cilicia. Kessab retains its Armenian inhabitants to this day, while the rest of Cilicia is depopulated of its once-thriving Armenian population.
 

Up to its annexation to Turkey and once a year, on the Sunday nearest to August 15, Kessabtsis used to go on pilgrimage to the ancient ruins on top of Gassios Ler, to celebrate the Feast of Assumption. Kessabtsis called these ruins Ballum. Some of the historians claim that a temple dedicated to Greek god Apollo stood there once. At one time for the Kessabtsis, the word Ballum and the Feast of Assumption were intertwined if not synonymous.  Both of my parents as youngsters used to accompany their parents to celebrate the Feast of Assumption at Ballum on Gassios Ler.

The Feast Assumption is an important religious celebration to Catholic and Orthodox Christians as the day that Virgin Mary was received into Heaven. However, all the Kessabtsis, irrespective of their denominational affiliations, celebrate the feast. Grapes are brought to the church and are blessed after Divine Liturgy. Kessabtsis would not eat grape until the feast. I remember well my paternal grandmother Sarah forbade me to pick grapes from vines until their blessing. The Feast of the Assumption is a major festivity for the Kessabtis who continue to celebrate it with davul and zurna and feast on harissa. 
 

Gassios Ler, unlike Mount Ararat, has one summit. In the gorge between the snow-capped twin peaks of Mount Ararat our legendary King Ardavast remains chained, accompanied by his faithful dogs that unceasingly lick his chains to free Ardavast to liberate Armenia. No such legendary figure inhabits Gassios Ler. Both mountains however, remain silent witnesses of our turbulent history, stretching from the slopes of Mount Ararat to the slopes of Gassios Ler and its surroundings within the famed historical Armenian Cilicia.

Source: Keghart.com.

My First Job Interview in the U.S.

Vahe H. Apelian

My first job interview in America remains the more memorable among the many first-time experiences I had in the New World, after I landed in the J.F. Kennedy Airport on July 9, 1976, as another immigrant. The Bicentennial Celebration had barely ended. 

The interview was with the American Cynamid Corporation, which has long folded away. According to Wikipedia it was a leading American conglomerate that became one of the nation's top 100 manufacturing companies during the 1970s. Apprehensive as I was to be punctual and yet not too early, I lingered around the building and presented myself to the receptionist just few minutes before the appointment time. I was asked to wait, but the wait was getting longer than I thought it would. An ominous sign I thought to myself. Who, I wandered, would take genuine interest, and offer a job to a newcomer like me who is not a local graduate and has no local work experience? Let alone to the fact that I had no experience in the field I wanted to make a career – pharmaceutics – other than relevant education.

I was immersed in my thoughts when a very distinguished looking gentleman stepped out and met me. He apologized for the delay and escorted me to his office and had me seated on a chair across his desk. He then welcomed me in Arabic to my total surprise. I asked him how is that he has learned Arabic. Adding further excitement to my initial surprise, he told me that he was born and raised in Lebanon and that his father was a longstanding employee of the American University of Beirut (AUB), my alma mater.  We started chatting about Lebanon and AUB to break ice, but I remained distracted at the sight of his nameplate on his desk facing me. It spelled his name, Robert Glockler. The last name appeared very familiar to me, even though it is not a common name one would ordinarily encounter. Looking back, I wander if my natural inclination to wander off had not become all too evident by my distraction to my detriment.

Let me deviate from the interview in the next paragraph.

My late maternal uncle Dr. Antranig Chalabian had collaborated with Dr. Stanley Kerr’s in the publication of his book titled “The Lions of Marash”. The Kerrs resided in Trenton, NJ. It turned out they socialized with the Glocklers. Henry Wilfrid Glockler was an employee of the American University of Beirut and was deported at the onset of the World War I into the interior of the Ottoman Empire because he was a British subject and Great Britain had declared war against Turkey. He thus had become an eyewitness to the atrocities committed against the Armenian subjects of the Empire. He had his eyewitness accounts penned down. The manuscript that was written in 1918 had remained dormant in Henry W. Glockler’s archives. Upon the recommendation of Dr. Stanley Kerr, he had sent his manuscript to Antranig Chalabian who had it edited, found sponsors, and had the memoirs published as a book.

Having made a connection to the name on the nameplate I was facing, I digressed from the conversation and in the spur of the moment blurted out if he was, by any chance, related to Henry Glockler. From the looks of his face, it became apparent that he was caught by surprise. He told me that Henry was his father and wondered how was it that I had heard of his name. Without going into the details, not mentioning that I had accompanied my uncle to the printer’s shop, nor did I mention that I had read the book, I said instead that Antranig Chelebian is my uncle. He responded something to the effect that it was a small world indeed and that he had heard so much about him from his father.

“Interned in Turkey 1914-1918” by Henry Wilfrid Glockler was published in 1969 by Simon Simonian’s Sevan Press in Beirut. It is 154 pages long. The book is “Dedicated To the thousands of innocent Armenian men, women and children of Ourfa, Turkey, who perished amid the horrors of the infamous [Armenian] genocide of 1915-18.”

My interview with Robert Glockler took a new turn. The formalities for the job interview gave way to a new discovered familiarity. He invited me for lunch at the company’s cafeteria and I stayed with him in his office long after that.

Not too long after my interview, I got an invitation to the company’s research facility in Princeton, NJ. When I presented myself there, I found out that all the department heads were lined up to interview me for a job opening commensurate with my education and the level of experience I had. I am sure that Robert Glockler had made that possible for me. I do not know how my interview went. Almost right after the interview I noted to the company that I received a job offer from the Schering-Plough Corporation, that ceased to exist as well. This time around it was thanks to Henry Apelian, a relative, who was the director at the company’s international division. He had recommended and presented me for an interview. I was offered a job that set me in my career path.

My first job interview in America became a source of comfort for me. My immediate and extended family members were still in Lebanon. I was away from home and by myself, but I felt that I was not all alone.

Decades passed and my career during the following more than three decades spanned in pharmaceutical companies. 

In January 2013, I had an article posted in Keghart.com regarding my first job interview. I had titled the article “Memorable Interview’. A few months after the posting of the article, I received an email. At first glance it did not dawn on me as who could the sender be. The name  did not seem familiar. Reading the email, I was stunned to find out that it was from the very person with whom I had my first interview. The sender of the email was Robert Glocker. In the email, he had noted to me that friends had brought the article to the attention of his brother. His brother in turn had sent him the link. After reading the article he had tracked down my email and contacted me letting me know that he was very pleased to read my article.  

Having thus connected, we continued corresponding with each other. I found out that he had retired and moved to Florida with his wife. 

One thing led to another and in December 2014, we met in Orlando, where we had gone for an end of the year family vacation. It was Robert who drove to meet me. Our paths had crossed once and that was thirty-eight years ago. But we acted as if we were old friends who met with each other to catch up on things that had transpired in their lives during the past many and many years. I thus ended up spending a memorable day with Robert as old friends would.