Paylik Kellejian and Vartan Kalantarian

Today is August 4, 1995. My mother passed away today at 11:00 am. Her name was Paylik Kalantarian, the matriarch of the Kalantarian family in California, maybe in the United States.

She was 89 years old (we assume). We know the year was 1906 -- don't even know the month or day, since all records, pictures, and documents were demolished or lost during the 1915 Armenian massacre. Even the family Bible, where such records were usually kept, was lost or otherwise destroyed.

She was born Paylik Kellejian to a middle class working family in a town called GIRASON on the southern shores of the Black sea. In fact the Kellejian house was less than half a block from the sea. Then, in April of 1915, both her parents fell victim to this brutal Ethnic cleansing, as we call it today, by the Turkish government against all Armenians in particular and any non-Moslems in general. It resulted in a million and a half Armenians annihilated and many thousands of Greeks and Jews as well. When we were in our teens, my brother and I decided she deserves to have a birthday like everyone else. We picked JUNE 22. The way we arrived at this date was, we found the name ST. PAULINE in an English language calendar at this date. So we reasoned PAULINE was close enough to PAYLIK. So it was, from that day forward we celebrated the 22nd day of June as her real birthday.

Her mother passed away when she was very young. Her father remarried and from this union twin boys were born. So now she had twin half brothers as well as her real brother Baruir Kellejian, who was five years older. I do not know the exact circumstances under which she and her brother were picked up by her paternal uncle, Nushan Kellejian and his wife Verkine, and taken to Odessa Russia. We do know however,that at the time, she was in an American orphanage (Miss Cushman's) in Konia Turkey (this is the old Roman city Ikonium) and her brother knew where she was, even though he was not in the orphanage,himself. We also know that their two half-brothers were also perished during the massacre, never to be found, or to be heard of again. Time frame must have been between 1916 to 1918. In 1925, when she was about 19 years old, and living in Odessa with her aunt and uncle, she did meet and finally marry Vartan Kalantarian (my father). He lived and worked in Sukhumi, the capital city of the province of Abkhazia (one of the provinces of Georgia- a USSR republic).

By this time Russia had succumbed to communism and was known as Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. My father was 29 years old at this juncture and was the sole breadwinner for his mother Surpouhi, his two younger brothers, Ashot and Heratch, and two sisters Veronica, and a younger sister Ashkhen (who passed away at a young age due to some illness).

My father was the proprietor of a small local grocery store (similar to our old fashioned Ma & Pa markets). He became involved in the world of business at the early age of 13, when his father Garabed passed away, leaving all responsibilities upon him. Subsequent to their marriage my mother moved to Sukhumi from Odessa. Both these cities are located on the Black Sea,Odessa on the northern border near the CrimeanP peninsula, part of the Ukrainian republic. Soukhumi on the other hand was located on the eastern shores of the Black sea, part of the Georgian republic. Sukhumi, along with Sochi and Gagri were the three most favored vacation locations for all soviet presidents and other elite and VIPs, primarily because of their temperate (Mediterranean) climate. It was in this beautiful city, with a charming view of the sea, with tree-lined streets,promenades and parks, that one Monday morning about six am, on the 31st day of May in the year a child was born to the Kalantarian family.

They called him HAROUTUNE after his maternal grandfather (in Armenian it means Resurrection), therefore Easter is commonly celebrated to be the name day of all those whose name is Haroutune, as well as a religious holiday. Such was the beginnings of this person that we know as Haroutune Kalantarian. Lucky to be born in a lovely environment, doted and pampered by parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Before I was 90 days old I was taken on a sea voyage to Odessa, to be shown off to my other grandparents.

Now before we proceed further, I would like to reflect on the effects of the massacre on my father's side of the family. His parents were from a town called EGIN , located inland from the southern shores of the Black sea on the EGIN river. This town was also subjected to severe annihilation, but fortunately his family escaped the holocaust having moved just prior to the calamity and gone to Sukhumi.

In 1928 by the time I was two years old, my parents were blessed with a beautiful girl, my sister Knarig (meaning a small Lyre), a beautiful girl indeed [with] big black eyes, dark hair, and a very happy disposition. She brought happiness to everyone in the family. Alas this happiness was not for long, for before she was a year old in June of 1929 she was taken away from us with Meningitis, which at that time was an incurable disease (penicillin and other miracle drugs or antibiotics were a quarter century away yet). Her passing away, especially at such an early age, needless to say was a painful loss to my parents and everyone else in the family. Even I seemed to have missed her, always asking where is my Tenarig?

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