Letter to my younger self: Summer edition

Dear Younger Me,

You did not know it then, but every summer you rolled your eyes at your mom and grandparents for dragging you and your brother to yet another Armenian gathering, you were being handed a piece of yourself. It started with childhood summer vacations at Armenian hotels and picnics throughout Rhode Island and Massachusetts, and culminated, as a teen, with a family trip to Armenia and—surprisingly—looking forward to St. Nersess Summer Seminary.

In the 1960s and early 1970s, you joined generations of Armenian families flocking to vacation at the Hilltop Mansion in Manomet, Massachusetts, and the Washington Irving Inn in the New York Catskills. You looked forward to spending a week with your cousins, swimming in the pools, meeting other kids and having the freedom to roam the property with limited supervision. People in Mom’s generation enjoyed time with their cousins and peers, while all the grandparents played cards, tavloo (backgammon) and simply gabbed in Armenian. 

With meals cooked by the kitchen staff, rooms kept clean by housekeeping and a week away from the factories, it was a true retreat for everyone. Of course, dancing was a staple of the festivities and the Saturday night dance with a live Armenian band was the highlight of the week. The women in your family wore gowns and dressed the kids in uncomfortable formal clothes—but still, you found ways to have fun! 

And then, there were the summer picnics at Husenig Grove, Camp Haiastan and the Whitinsville church grounds, where the aroma of shish kebab grilling and live music filled the air as you drove through the entrance. What you did not realize then was how these moments helped shape who you are today.

It was not until you were around eight or nine years old that you began to notice the rhythm of your life was unlike that of your school friends—your “American friends.” You felt embarrassed and burdened growing up in a strict household with three generations speaking both Armenian and English, and spending Sundays as “family day.” As a pre-teen, you were mortified to be shipped off for two weeks to an Armenian summer camp with your cousins. Mom, Auntie Mary, Auntie Grayce and Auntie Alice drove the distance to Camp Nubar in the Catskills, where you could enjoy typical camp activities and eat “American foods” alongside other kids from families like yours. I still laugh recalling how you told Mom and Grandma about the delicious dishes you had never heard of—meatloaf, American chop suey, shepherd’s pie. They may have cringed a little.

It is no wonder that, as a teen, you embraced the camaraderie of joining the ACYOA (Armenian Church Youth Organization of America) and started connecting more closely with your Sunday School friends and others from nearby states. Ironically, the strict rules about hanging out with friends seemed to disappear when you were with your Armenian peers—no curfews, no driving restrictions and many other privileges.

When you were 16, your grandfather insisted on taking you, your brother and your mom on a long trip to Armenia. He believed everyone should see their motherland, and at that time, the only way to travel to Soviet Armenia was through a group tour that visited several countries and ended with a week in Yerevan. With most travelers over 50 and a packed itinerary of museums, you were grateful to have your brother along to make it more enjoyable. You could not have possibly realized how deeply this trip would influence your worldview for years to come.

However, you did realize, even in the moment, what a life-changing experience the summer sessions at St. Nersess Seminary were. After that first summer, you counted down the days until you could return. It was not any one thing that made such a lasting impression—it was the combination of many factors coming together. Looking back, I believe you were at the right age to receive the right message from the right leaders and peers, at the right time.

Emerging from the international trip and summers at St. Nersess filled you with a deeper appreciation for being different and standing out. You made the bold decision to transfer to St. Xavier’s Academy, a Catholic girls’ school, and you graduated with enormous pride—feeling worldly, spiritual and confident.

You carried these values throughout your life. Although your engagement with the Armenian community may have paused at times, your spiritual commitment remained your guiding star.

Flash forward to summer 2025: you have made a renewed commitment to your Armenian identity, dedicating your God-given talents to telling the stories of Armenian survivors and culture, expanding your world of like-minded people and praying for peace.

And so, dear Younger Me, as I look back on those summers—the ones you did not fully understand—I see now how they quietly shaped you into who you are today. 

If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be this: treasure those moments, even the ones that feel hard or different. One day, you will see how special they really were. And you will carry them with you, in every summer still to come.

Sirov (with love),
Older You