Fifty years ago, I sat around a bonfire and sang patriotic songs at Camp Haiastan. I dined in the Mess Hall, followed other campers around, sought and secured enrichment, and became a better Armenian for it.
Now, at age 70, I found history repeating itself.
There I was this month—same place, same type of agenda, with Uncas Pond beckoning me to its shore. It was all part of an ARF Panagoum attracting other Ungers throughout the Eastern Region, in what proved a weekend of bonding, education, and social fulfillment.
We were 65 in all, including a dozen women, from all parts of the New England, Mid-Atlantic, and Mid-West regions. Providence led the way with 16 guests, which was to be expected considering they helped organize the event with the Central Committee.
Kudos also went out to Chicago which sent five members here, including some by car. Highlight of this Panagoum was the induction ceremony of five novices to the ranks, who were undoubtedly impressed by the ceremony and camaraderie.
The good, old days wouldn’t be so old if more people lived them. You couldn’t help catching the spirit just by being there.
The timing couldn’t have been any better on this, the 120th anniversary of the organization that has performed yeoman’s work over the decades. In areas around the country, even universally, committees are bent on commemorating the milestone.
A fundraising dinner will be hosted by the Nahapetians of New Jersey on Nov. 20, followed by a seminar the next day in Manhattan with some 500 attendees expected. Prominent speakers will grace both occasions.
It’s somewhat of an anniversary for me as well, given my 45th year in the organization, following a short interval as an AYF member. It’s no big secret that belonging to the ARF has increased my political awareness, made me a community activist, introduced me to some of the best people I could ever encounter, and allowed me the incentive to pass some of this stability down to my own wife and children.
The Panagoum, like a convention or conference, refueled my jets. It was done in a rather informal arena of pine trees, cabins, and nature in the rough. You woke to the sounds of birds chirping in the trees. Reveille, remember that?
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Photos by Tom Vartabedian.
The day started with the raising of the flag and the singing of our national anthem. I’ll bet you more than one (other than myself) envisioned themselves standing in a circle and engaging in such a formality as a young camper back a generation or two.
The speakers were an assembly of erudites, well-acquainted with their subject matter. They included Antranig Kasbarian (on the ARF’s role in the liberation and current-day Artsakh), Khatchig Mouradian (Armenian community in Turkey), Greg Bedian (Turkish community in America), George Aghjayan (Armenian existence post genocide to 1990’s), and Mourad Topalian (remembering our past and moving into the future).
Topalian made the trip from California, where he now resides, handled the swearing-in ceremonies, and presented a rather inspiring message about uniting our efforts and moving forward in the next generation.
A panel discussion on the Armenian community in America included Georgi-Ann Oshagan, Dikran Kaligian, Philip Nigon, and Harout Miserlian.
It wasn’t all business. The social side had guests playing tavlou and belote, and free time to roam the premises and enjoy some solitude by the pond.
The meals were gourmet-prepared and included everything from basterma and soujoukh pizza to pulled pork, fried turkey, a full-fledged Armenian dinner with all the fixings, and a surplus of breakfast entrees, enough to overdose on carbs. Who cared?
And like any gathering, bidding farewell meant only ’til we meet again. Providence has been coming here annually with its members and making a delightful weekend of it. We have a treasure in Camp Haiastan and it’s nice to see it being used in the off-season in such a practical manner.
We are an organization bent on tradition. We come from a proud sector of community life where awareness is a constant vigil. At a time when organizations are falling by the wayside, it takes a special one to survive the wrath of seven decades.
Whether it’s the diligence of its membership or heritage calling, it has been nothing short of successful. As the only surviving member of my Haverhill Gomideh, I pay homage to all my departed Ungers and join with those in Lowell in marking this anniversary.
In case you weren’t aware, the Lowell “Aharonian” Committee was the first organized Gomideh in the United States (1895) and we embrace that tenet with a great deal of respect.
We look for more panagoums to keep the ARF momentum going.
Tom Vartabedian
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This looks and sounds like a great gathering. Thank you for writing about it.