One Armenian Name that Backfires

What’s in a name? Plenty!

Especially if it’s Appo or Apo, however you wish to interpret it.

Publisher/writer Appo Jabarian
Publisher/writer Appo Jabarian

For the life of me, I know three people by that name. There’s an Apo Jeknavorian in my community who works as an EMT, associated with one of our more prominent families in Merrimack Valley. He’s a fireball, especially over a barbeque grill.

Moving closer to Boston, we come across Apo Ashjian, that talented choreographer and dancer who founded the Sayat Nova Dance Company. If nothing else, this Apo has created a veritable dynasty with his dancing troubadours, approaching its third decade with unquenchable zest and vitality.

My next Appo spells his name with two p’s and can be found 3,000 miles away. Appo Jabarian is executive publisher and senior editor of USA Armenian Life Magazine in Glendale, Calif. In his spare time, he is also president of HYE Media Group.

It’s safe to say that this Appo has been a grassroots political activist for more than 25 years, with broad experience in multi-ethnic media marketing. If you want to learn more, just hop aboard the Armenian Heritage Cruise and ask him yourself. He’s always there.

Now, I’m no etymologist (name specialist) but I can tell you this: For such a short name, there can be big trouble because it may not always fit the face.

Choreographer/dancer Apo Ashjian
Choreographer/dancer Apo Ashjian

So, I turned to my best contact, fellow Armenian Weekly columnist CK Garabed, who’s been sharing a page with me ever since I can recall. I asked CK for a derivation.

Without further ado, he shot back an e-mail. Seems Apo or Appo are the diminutives (his word) for Abraham (Hebrew for Father of Peoples). Well, that explains at least one Apo. Jeknavorian was named after a grandfather Abraham, a popular ARF member and locksmith in his day.

Let’s leave him out of this to simplify matters. So that leaves Jabarian and Ashjian, two men I don’t usually encounter. You can call them remote acquaintances. I’ve seen the Sayat Nova dancers and marveled at their routines. I’ve also met Jabarian on the cruise, served on a panel with him on journalism, and contribute regularly to USA Armenian Life.

“Let’s do lunch some time,” I proposed to Jabarian. “If you ever hit the East Coast, give me a ring and we’ll meet someplace convenient.”

One suggested engagement fell through the cracks on my account, due to another conflict. I was bummed.

“We’ll make it another time,” he suggested, offering some solace.

A month later, I received an e-mail from the dancing Apo, saying he’d like to discuss an upcoming matter of importance. It seemed obvious he had a story in mind—what, I couldn’t immediately tell.

We set up a lunch date, only to see that fizzle, on his account. He was off to the West Coast on business and looked to reschedule.

And then, a couple weeks later, I got an e-mail back from Apo Ashjian, signed simply “Apo.” In skimming over the name, I thought it was Appo Jabarian. We set up a luncheon date at the Agoump in Watertown, thinking that would be an ideal date for some quality Armenian food.

Why make the guy drive 50 miles to me when I could go to him? It was the least I could do after he bothered to come east from Glendale. We arranged for a 12:30 meeting.

In the back of my mind, I couldn’t understand what California Appo wanted to discuss. Was he making me an offer to join USA Armenian Life, maybe sell me the enterprise? At the very least, it would be good to discuss journalism with another so refined in the industry.

At precisely 12:30, in walked Ashjian. I was expecting Jabarian and thought my age had interfered with my mind. He took a seat and I was a bit befuddled by his appearance, thinking the man was ill and lost considerable weight. Time does that.

“Which Apo was this?”

He started the conversation, asking how the stories were coming and what the business of writing was all about. I played into his hand, telling him a bit about my life. Ashjian sat engrossed.

“You must be very busy yourself out in California,” I brought out.

“Yes, I just came from there,” he shot back. “So much potential. Looking forward to going back.”

“I would hope so, just to be home again and back in circulation,” I reminded him.

It wasn’t until this Apo—and not that Appo—revealed the news that his dance company was about to celebrate its 30th anniversary next year during the Centennial (which might involve a trip to the West Coast and another to Yerevan) that set the matter straight.

Ashjian never knew I had mistaken him for Jabarian—and Jabarian never figured he was being misjudged for Ashjian. A clear case of mistaken identity.

It’s an ancient proverb that from our ancestors come our names, but from our virtues come honors—even if you’re an Apo or Appo!

Tom Vartabedian

Tom Vartabedian

Tom Vartabedian is a retired journalist with the Haverhill Gazette, where he spent 40 years as an award-winning writer and photographer. He has volunteered his services for the past 46 years as a columnist and correspondent with the Armenian Weekly, where his pet project was the publication of a special issue of the AYF Olympics each September.
Tom Vartabedian

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4 Comments

  1. Abdullah Öcalan, also known as Apo (short for Abdullah and “uncle” in Kurdish), is one of the founding members of the PKK.

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