Copyright by Ann Bandazian 2005

From the third floor of the tenement building, her mother called,

"Sonah, Sonah- get Maro and come upstairs--and leave the kiddy car by the steps."

Sonah knelt before three year old Maro and gave a much longer explanation than was necessary.

"We have to go up to supper. We'll leave the kiddy car in the front hall and Daddy will bring it up when he comes home from work."

Maro scowled. She slid off the kiddy car wordlessly. Holding tightly to Maro's hand, Sonah pushed open the heavy front door, shoved Maro in and then the toy. It was a very good idea to take the toy up to their apartment because of the many fresh kids in their neighborhood who could steal their treasured kiddy car. It might not be too easy but she was determined. She adopted her special patient style of talking for baby Maro.

"Hold tight onto my hand. O.K.?"

Maro didn't answer. She rarely did.

With her left hand Sonah held Maro's hand and with the right hand pulled the clanking second-hand toy up the four steps to the landing by the mail boxes. It hadn't been too hard to get both her sister and the kiddy car to the first landing. She looked up the long first flight of stairs to Mrs. Swanson's second floor flat. It might not be easy but she was determined. Her mother would be so proud of her. Sonah knew she was smart, strong and almost six years old because all her aunts said so.

Once again she spoke in the same style as before to baby Maro.

"I will go first and pull the kiddy car up. You hold tight to me. O.K."

She didn't expect a reply and didn't get one. With the kiddy car in her right hand and Maro holding her left, she began the climb. Progress was slow. She was halfway up the first flight and things began to look dangerous. Her arms ached. She was tired. Mrs. Swanson, an extremely nervous woman, opened the door to her tenement and cried in her quavering nervous voice,

"You kids, stop that racket! I'm a sick woman!"

To make matters worse, Maro now decided to hold onto the kiddy car instead of Sonah's hand. Regretting her decision for heroism, Sonah draged her burden and herself. When they reached the second loor landing, she scolded Maro,

"Don't keep pulling the kiddy car or we'll both fall down the stairs and get killed."

Maro's serious, chubby face showed no sign of agreement. For a few brief moments while they walked down the landing, she released Maro's hand. Sonah pulled the clanking rattling toy past Mrs. Swanson who stood glaring at them. Maro was stumbling carelessly. Now they were at the last flight of stairs.

This ascent was clumsier than the first. As they climbed, Sonah watched the ugly hall wallpaper which depicted a strange forest of gnarled black, orange and mustard colored trees. Maro wasn't cooperating and continued to hang onto the kiddy car. Sonah begged,

"Maro, please stop pulling the kiddy car. Just hold my hand!"

Maro was too tired to hear or care. When Sonah stopped to catch her breath, Maro's foot missed the step and she tumbled ten steps to the bottom.

Seized with panic, Sonah began crying and calling,

"Mom, Mom! Maro's dead".

Her arms ached and her grip on the toy was weakening. At that moment, Mom dashed out shouting,

"Donkey, donkey! Who asked you to bring up that junk?"

Maro was crying but sat up and began climbing the stairs by herself. In an instant, Mom pulled the kiddy car from Sonah and tossed it onto their top floor landing and dashed to Maro while still muttering,

"Donkey...donkey- What did I ever do to deserve this donkey?!"

Maro had a bloody nose but was otherwise unhurt. Soon Maro forgot the incident and was playing with baby Levon who amused himself by pushing clothespins through a pipe. Sonah went into the living room, huddled in her favorite mohair wingchair and cried softly.

Mom was still angry and seemed not to care that Sonah was crying. How she wished she was a baby again when she was her mother and father's brilliant, beautiful angel.

Then she heard the trolley car coming down the street. She watched the people getting off and on. After it noisily disappeared, she studied the strange tree just outside the window. She called it the pricker tree because it had sharp, thin thorns. If she had really long arms, she could open the window and pull off a pricker. They could play doctor and stab people but only people she didn't like.

From Sonah's youngest age rebellion was in the air. She rarely tuned into the talk of her father and his friends--all members of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation.

Sonah's mother,Guyanah, didn't participate in political discussions with the men. Most women would never dream--or dare to engage in public conversation with men. It deemed bold and improper behavior. In private women spoke to their husbands, brothers and sons. They ruled their families and homes.

The wives of the revolutionaries gathered about the wooden kitchen table and talked about raising money for the Armenian Red Cross to help orphans and other victims of the deportation death marches. The women's voices stopped or dropped to a whisper and their eyes communicated silence whenever children entered the room.

Sonah decided that there was something dirty and guilty in this abrupt and sudden hush. She wondered and wondered about the deadful secret. These Armenians must have done something awful to be so ashamed.

The door to their apartment opened into a large kitchen, the centerpiece of which was a huge black stove. Heat was provided by kerosene and cooking by gas. Against the wall and facing the stove was a secondhand couch which opened into a bed. The mattress was thin and concealed broken springs which poked Sonah like so many nails. A rickety screen door led to a large back porch. An enormous clothesline stretched the length of a yard they shared with the five other families who lived in the same tenement. Another second hand couch was set in the kitchen before the lone window which opened onto the porch.

When she was five years old, Guyanah with the guidance of other Armenian women who had been in the country for several years, registered Sonah for kindergarten which was pronounced kinnygarden. The school was named the Jefferson Street School. It was a city school without a grassy yard. The play area was entirely paved with black amesite.

Two-thirds of the students were children of immigrants. They had very strange last names pronounced whichever way the teachers could manage. Most of the children with strange foreign names were smart, quiet, serious and not given to wild play.

The American students were those with blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin, nonforeign names and parents who didn't speak broken English or with an accent. The students considered American were of English, Irish, Scotch or Welsh descent--or a combination of any of the four.

The foreign students when asked, "What are you?" would reply either Polish, German, Czechoslovakian or one of the other Eastern Euopean countries.

Sonah hated to be asked what she was because no one ever heard of Armenians. And when they probed deeper, "What's that?" Sonah shrugged dumbly that she didn't know. More than anything she longed to be an American. For a long while Sonah was lonely in school.

For Sonah the best best thing in kinnygarden was the time Miss Williams had them make butter. She put some cream in a glass jar like the ones Mom used for canning tomatoes. Then all the children sat on the floor in a big circle and shook it many times, passing it from child to child. Slowly a small lump began to form in the bottle. After a great deal of shaking, the lump became bigger and bigger. Finally, they had what Miss Williams said was butter. The teacher and her friend spread the butter on a Royal Lunch crackers and passed a cracker to each child. Sonah had never had a Royal Lunch cracker spread with butter. She knew when she told them, Maro and Levon would die of envy.

Next to the butter making, Sonah liked playing with the green or red clay. She was getting better at talking American and not using so many Armenian words. Sometimes Miss Williams played the piano and they skipped and danced to the music. That was nice too.

First grade was full of the serious business of learning to read. At first Sonah was sad and baffled. She desperately wondered about the trick to reading. Other children were smarter than her. They caught on right away. They knew the trick. Sonah made a lot of mistakes. She tried to read everything--signs on buses--signs on billboards--words in newspapers. By the end of first grade she was in the "B" group.

By the time Sonah was in second grade she had a best girlfriend. Her name was Anna Lee Willard and she was an American. Sonah wished she looked like Anna Lee with beautiful rosey cheeks, big brown eyes, straight white teeth, brown hair in curls and nice clothes. Anna Lee had a brother and a mother but a dentist father Sonah never saw. When she went to Anna Lee's to play with paper dolls there was a mother but no father-- even on Sundays.

When Sonah overheard the big girls in the next tenement sitting on the stone steps talking about their boyfriends, she guessed she should have one too. She wondered a lot about who she should have for a boyfriend. It had to be a secret and it absolutely had to be Rocco Gentili because he sometimes wore a beautiful sailor suit with gold buttons. She never talked with Rocco but he was her secret boyfriend and she never told Anna Lee that he was the one.

In third grade Sonah was still in the "B" reading group but she was having a lot of fun with more girlfriends. Rocco Gentili wasn't her boyfriend anymore. She was too busy with her girlfriends to think about having a boyfriend. Their teacher was Miss Guest who was pretty fat. The boys joked about the reason why she loved food sales. The whole business about food sales was new to Sonah but she explained it as best she could to her mother.

"Mom, everybody's mother will make cookies or cakes or maybe fudge. We'll take it to school and sell the stuff. Then we'll take the money and use it for a trip to the toy factory."

"What factory? I don't like that idea--taking children far away to a toy factory."

"Oh, Mom- you have to make walnut cookies or I'll be the only one who won't have something to give. The teacher will hate me and so will the kids."

Maro and Levon got into the act and began championing their sister.

"We want Sonah to go to the toy factory. Maybe, she can get some toys for us-"

> Though mystified, Guyanah cooperated and baked her special cookies which Sonah presented to the teacher with great important ceremony.

The day of the food sale Miss Guest said that the children were acting like wild Indians

"Boys and girls, if you don't calm down, Miss Donegan, our principal, will cancel all future food sales and there'll be no trips to the toy factory."

Some teachers and some of the pupils bought cookies, fudge, or banana bread. Sonah had no money to buy anything so she forced herself to be cheerful and amusing so no one would think to question her about not buying anything.

Then the boy's gym teacher, Mr. Rubenstein, who was so handsome he could be a movie actor came to the food table. He looked tan all year long, had green eyes, silver hair and a beautiful smile with perfect teeth. Sonah always noticed teeth because she hated her side tooth which bucked out.

She almost fainted when Mr. Rubenstein bought a dozen of Mom's cookies. He was talking with Miss Guest who was happy and smiling too much.

Sonah heard him say,

"Beatrice, do you mind if I sample one of these now?"

Miss Guest's face turned red,

"By all means. I think they're Armenian cookies. Am I right Sonya?"

In a way Miss Guest was dumb as she always pronounced her name wrong.

Sonah,too shy to talk merely shook her head, yes.

Mr. Rubenstein tasted the cookie and said,

"Delicious--absolutely, delicious. Beatrice if you made these, I'd ask you to marry me."

This was too much embarassed joy for Sonah--she ran to the water bubbler and nearly choked when she gulped too great a mouthful of water.

When the sale was over and the mess cleared, Miss Guest counted the change several times before she announced,

"Children, we have made our goal! Friday morning after the Lord's prayer and the pledge of allegiance, we'll put on our coats and hats and go to the Raymond Street entrance to wait for the bus. Make sure all your parents know and give their permission?"

Miss Guest's wall telphone rang. After she talked a few minutes, she said she had to go to the principal's office.

"While I'm gone, I trust you to practice your push/pulls penmanship lesson in absolute silence."

The minute she left the room, everyone started talking loudly. Two boys began chasing eachother around the room.

Unexpectantly, Miss Guest opened the door. She looked as if she was about to be knocked over by the noise. The two running boys guiltily slid into their seats. In a second all was darkly quiet.

Miss Guest hurried through their penmanship lesson which was mostly dumb push/pulls.

Then she said,

"I'm dismissing you a few minutes early because I have to attend a meeting. Please walk quietly through the halls so you don't disturb other students who are still in class."

Getting out of school even a few minutes early was like getting a present before a birthday. They walked quietly through the halls all the way to the main door near Principal Donegan's office. Once out the door, quiet and order exploded. Several boys began chasing eachother shouting and leaping down the stairs four at a time.

The days were warm and the huge school windows opened to balmy air and traffic noises. Miss Gianapolis smiled more and promised they'd soon be on school vacation for the summer. For Sonah it would be an enormous relief after a tough year.

First there was the business of skipping fourth grade to the fifth. Miss Donegan, their principal, said it would be the last time there would be skpping in any of the schools in the whole state.

Sonah knew she wouldn't be one of the skippers because she wasn't in the really smart group. Then Miss Gianapolish said,

"Sonah, if you promise to spend the summer learning long division--you can skip with the others to the fifth grade."

Sonah, having no idea of how little or great a step this was-- shrugged,

"O.K. Miss Gianapolis, I'll learn long division."

Her mother and aunts were very proud. Aunt Zahbel said she'd help Sonah learn division when they went to stay with her aunts for the summer. Sonah put this worry aside to enjoy the thought that school would soon be over.

With only five weeks left before vacation, Miss Gianapolis spoiled her dreams,

"Sonah, you have to go see the school nurse, Miss Kelly. You know where her office is-"

Her heart thumping every which way, Sonah found her way to the basement office of Nurse Kelly. She worried and worried. Why did the school nurse want to see her? Sometimes one of the kids would bring a note for gym excuse or something like that and they would take it to Miss Kelly. But she had no note from her mother or doctor-

Sonah didn't like Miss Kelly because she had white hair, a red puffed up face and body. Her white nurse's dress was strained at the buttons. Sonah mainly like pretty teachers like Miss O'Keefe and Miss Stanton.

She slowly opened the door and came softly into Miss Kelly's office.

Miss Kelly barked,

"Yes-- who are you?"

"I'm Sonah from Miss Gianapolis' class. The teacher said to come see you-"

Miss Kelly looked at some papers on her desk to recall why she wanted to see Sonah-

She growled,

"Little lady if you don't get eyeglasses--you'll go blind."

Miss Kelly explained that Miss Gianapolis noticed Sonah otenfrowned at the blackboard. To both women that meant that Sonah had vision problems. She never thought deeply enough to reason that the frowning might be the problem that a child of immigrant's might have trying to learn a second language. There was no one around to explain this to Miss Gianapolis or Miss Kelly.

Though no one at home discussed poverty with the children, Sonah knew money was scarce. For two weeks she put off telling her mother Miss Kelly's prediction and she sadly honestly believed she would go blind without eyeglasses.

Finally, fear triumphed. Half crying she told her mother that she needed eyeglasses or she'd go blind.

In one of her rare tender moments Guyanah said,

"Don't worry, little chick, we'll find the money."

Sonah ended with hideous round, silver-rimmed eyeglasses. Now she knew that her ugliness was total with her short, straight brown hair, held off her forehad with a metal barrette, a crooked eyetooth, heavy eyebrows and homemade dresses. To make matters worse, she was a nationality no one ever heard of.

Aunt Zabel wasn't famous for patience but in the matter of teaching Sonah division she showed the patience of a saint. Zabel seemed to believe that she was on a sacred mission. Sonah was the eldest of the eldest sisters' children. Her success in school would in turn lead to success in the world which would benefit the whole family.

Sonah hated spending time away from her other cousins to be learning division. It was a hundred times more fun to paint charcoal mustache on herself, wear a boy's cap and shorts. And dress little boys like little girls. After costuming, she staged plays or took her young cousins up the hill behind the North Division house to pick blueberries and blackberries. There were wonderful fun things to do besides sitting in the house on a hot summer day sweating over the mysteries of division. She hated arithmetic. What did people need arithmetic for anyway?

Too soon summer was over and they returned to Elmwood. Suddenly and too abruptly Sonah was in the fifth grade. Some of her friends from third grade came along with her to this fifth grade class. Other students were new and strangers. Her new friend was Marjorie Pincus.

Marjorie lived in a nicer apartment than Sonah's tenement. She had two handsome older brothers who played musical instruments. Marjorie was pretty with a heart shaped face, curly dark hair, big brown eyes and a delicate bone structure. There were a lot of good things about Marjorie, but the very best was that she quietly absorbed all of Sonah's noisy exuberance with wise good nature.

The going home ritual was to walk first to Marjorie's apartment. Then Sonah would walk the remaining three blocks home by herself. At the corner of Crescent and Broad Street there was a ramshakle frame house where it was rumored a woman hung herself in the attic. It was a paint peeling, silent, scary place. Older children had suggested that the house was haunted. Sonah hurried by-- nearly running-- not daring to even look at the house half expecting a skinny women's ghost to drift from the house.

Marjorie's father had a tailor shop right next to their Jefferson Street School. Once in a rare while Marjorie stopped by with a message for her father Sonah always always went into the shop with her hoping that she catch a glimpse of one of the handsome brothers but they always seemed to be away at music lessons or college.

Sonah could never figure out why but it was obvious that Tom Cannors hated Marjorie. He never missed the chance to yell some insulting thing to them from the opposite side of the street where he lived.

One day, Sonah went to the drug store across the street to get a doctor's prescription for her mother. While she was waiting forthe druggist to bring her the medicine, Tom Connors came in to buy a rope of licorice candy. He was happy beyond words to insult her again.

Sonah tried to hide by the newspapers but he saw her. She was surprised when he didn't insult her. He came to her and whispered,

"Did you know that Marjorie Pincus is a Jew. They don't believe in God."

Sonah was stunned to silence. She shrugged that she didn't care, picked up the prescription, gave the druggist the correct amount of money from the envelope her mother had given her. The words they don't believe in God kept banging in her head. Without answering she quickly left the store.

"They don't believe in God," What did that mean? "They don't believe in God-"

Tom Connors was undoubtedly lying. He was a mean kid and he'd lie just to make her mad. Someday she'd get up the courage to ask Marjorie about God but not now.

For he present, she settled on asking ask her mother. As they were setting the table for supper,

"Mom, do Jews believe in God?"

Mom laughed,

"Of course, they do. What made you ask that?"

"This boy, Tom Connors, said they don't believe in God. He's a big lier-"

"That boy probably meant that they don't worship Jesus as God the way we do."

Sonah brightened,

"Well, I guess that's O.K. Isn't it?"

"We all believe in God and that's what's important."

"I see. Well, I still like Marjorie."

"That's good. You can learn things from her, Sonah. Her people are extremely intelligent."

"Are Armenians smart?"

"Yes, we're smart too. But sometimes it's not good to be too smart."

With that last comment, her mother left to season the stew. Sonah wanted to ask how much was too smart but could tell by the preoccupied expression on her mother's face that she was thinking other important things.

Sonah continued her friendship with Marjorie for two years until Claire Wendell and Louise Merrill moved into the tenement next to hers.

Marjorie and her handsome brothers moved to a rich neighborhood and into their own two family house. Neither Claire nor Louise were smart and quiet like Marjorie but they were just as crazy about the movies as Sonah. And that was perfect.

Marta called down from the back porch,

"Sonah and Maro, go to Santoro's. Buy loaf Italian bread. Don't forget--Italian. Daddy hates American bread."

Both sisters ran into the store and selected a fat loaf of Italian bread. Sonah held it up for "Butcher Tony" to see. She said as she was taught,

"Father pay tonight-"

He smiled indicating that he would mark it on the card.

Ever since she was old enough to go to the store, Sonah had always quickly recited,

"Father pay tonight. The first time she went for bread. It wasn't clear exactly what those few words meant but it did enable her to get bread without giving Tony any money. To quiet her nervousness, Mom assured her that Daddy would stop at Santoro's on the way home from work to settle the daily bill.

The bread smelled delicious. She pushed it under Maro's nose,

"Just smell. Doesn't it smell good."

Sonah loved to eat. She was always hungry. Maro was the opposite. She hardly liked anything Mom cooked. Mom always worried about Maro's not eating. Both parents coaxed Maro and fussed over this delicate daughter until she finally succombed and ate a small amount. Maro seemed a very special girl with refined tastes.

For supper this night they were going to have stringbean and lamb stew done with tomatoes, onions, and green peppers. Sonah was proud of the fact that she never fussed about eating anything but liver. The truth was that Mom didn't care for liver herself but thought it was healthy for the children and prepared it twice a year. When the children didn't eat it, she wouldn't scold them.

Before they ate Mom always said,

"Thank God for this meal too."

There were times when Mom didn't eat or ate a very small portion because there wouldn't be enough for the children.

Sonah asked,

"What's the matter, Mom? Are you sick?"

"Oh, Sonah- don't bother me. I have no appetite."

When Sonah figured out why her mother sometimes didn't eat, she felt proud that she understood the sacrifice.

Maro and Levon didn't know about being lucky to have food or why Mom didn't always eat. Whenever they didn't like barley soup, okra stew or stuffed grape leaves, they just said so. Sometimes Mom would persuade them to eat by saying that it was good for making strong bones and blood. Then she added, they couldn't be smart in school if their brains didn't get nourishment.

While they were sitting on the back porch waiting for supper, Sonah decided it wasn't much fun to always sit like a dope and eat everything served. She was getting tried of being a good girl a good eater day after day. It would be fun sometime not to eat her dinner. Of all the dishes Mom made, Sonah disliked stringbean stew the most.

As usual Mom called them to supper before Dad came home. Tonight he would be keeping his shop open til late as it was a Saturday and people wanted their clothes for Sunday church. Mom filled their soup dishes with the stew, varying the amount according to each child's age.

It quickly became cool. Sonah sat and stared at the tiny round pools of grease floating on top of the broth and the beans now khaki colored. It took Mom a few minutes to realize that Sonah wasn't eating. She never heard a peep of disapproval from Sonah about anything. Though she wasn't especially proud of it, Sonah sometimes heard her mother boast to relatives,

"One good thing about Sonah is she's never given me a bit of trouble about eating."

Mom gently asked,

"Sonah, what are you dreaming about? Eat your dinner before it gets cold. You know there's no flavor when it gets cold."

It was now time to strike. Quietly and slowly she said,

"I'm not eating because I hate stringbean stew."

Shocked and angry Mom said,

"Don't act crazy! Eat your supper."

Mom went to the sink to wash a pot. Her mother's anger surprised Sonah but not eating made her feel special-- like Maro. She continued to sit at her place without eating.

When Mom returned from the sink, she looked at Sonah's full plate,

"Are you serious? Do you mean you're really not going to eat supper?"

"No. I don't like stringbean stew."

"Very well! Now go out on the back porch and stay hungry until you change your mind."

Sonah stared disbelieving her mother. Where was the delicate treatment she gave Maro?

Mom elaborated,

"And when you're good and ready to eat, come inside- kiss my hand-- say, Mama, I'm sorry I made a fuss. From now on I'll always eat whatever you serve even if it's only a raw onion. Do you understand?!"

It was as if she'd been struck by a surprisingly severe punishment. Sonah, in less heroic spirit, nodded her head that she understood. Mom opened the door for Sonah to go out and added,

"You can starve out there until your brains return to your head."

Sonah dragged herself to the back porach and sat on the couch by the window to await whatever happened when you had no food. Maro and Levon thinking this a great adventure, laughed and whispered hatching a plot to smuggle bread to their exiled sister.

Sonah felt like a heroine, comedian, and martyr all in one. Just as Levon was removing the porch window screen to pass the bread to Sonah, Mom caught him. She took the bread and sent the children to the living room to listen to the radio.

It was the end of summer and the air was clear and chilly. Sonah shivered in her sweater. It became dark and colder. All lightness left the situation. She watched Mom clearing the table preparing for Dad's coming home to supper. She could hear her sister and brother laughing at some funny program--maybe Baby Snooks.

Sonah wondered about starvation. How long did it take for people to die without food? Tears of self-pity dripped down her face. Her mother was mean--not fair. She hated her mother. She was nothing like a good pretty Hollywood movie mother. What would her father do when he came home from work and found her dead? He would probably cry. He always liked her. But imagining his sorrow was slim comfort.

Mom continued her work about the kitchen never bothering to look out the window to check on her eldest daughter. Mom seemed sad but she looked a little sad most of the time. Sonah didn't like that old country way she wore her hair with a braid wound in a circle and pinned at the back. Then Sonah's thinking took a slight turn,

Poor Mom--noble and sacrificing with a rotten daughter. She thought to herself,

Of all the kids, I'm the only good and sensible one. Now I'm bad just like the other kids-

Soon she'd be dead from her own stubborness. Sonah began crying loudly enough for her mother to hear her misery.

Mom came to the door and said,

"If you're sorry and have something to say to me, you can come in-"

Sonah's heart gladdened, but for dramatic value she still kept crying as she slowly walked back into the kitchen.

Mom extended her hand like a queen. Sonah bowed to kiss it and she softly said,

"I'm sorry."

Her mother instructed,

"Say the rest-"

Sonah thought she'd choke but recited as she remembered,

"I'm sorry, Mama, to have been so fussy. From now on I will eat everything you make--even if you give me a raw onion."

Mom kissed her on the forehead to show that she accepted her apology--then took the uneaten bowl of stringbean stew from on top of the black stove and placed it on the table before Sonah.

Maro and Levon came running from the living room to check on the returned exile. Sonah didn't stop eating until every bit was finished. She used a small piece of Italian bread to mop up the broth. Stringbeans were quite wonderful but not better than potatoes.

Whenever they visited the fat lady's apartment, they played dominos or cards and ate hard candies while Mom and she talked. It was always the same story when they left. Aunt Helen walked down the hall with them to the stairs. Mom sighed wearily,

"Don't forget, Helen--I need a job. Ask around the factory again."

"I never forget you, Guyanah. I'll keep after the boss."

Aunt Helen wasn't really an aunt. She was a second cousin but to simplify relationships she was called "Aunt."

As they joggled home in the trolley, drowsing off now and then, Sonah wondered about the urgency of Mom's finding a job. Why was it so unattainable? Why were so many people feverish about finding work?

Months passed and no one explained the economic depression to Sonah for she was only eight years old and it was quite bad enough to be living in gray choking poverty without being burdened with details. Then one day she knew, without being told, she understood the seriousness of everyone's trouble.

It was the last weeek in August and they were visiting fat Aunt Helen again. She met them at the head of the stairs smiling--fairly bursting from her very large, brightly patterned, rayon dress.

"Guyanah, Guyanah-I have good news. I've got a job for you-"

"Are you telling me the truth, aghchig (girl)?"

She jiggled her fat arms excitedly,

"As God is my witness, I'm telling the truth."

As they entered the apartment, tears twinkled in Mom's eyes.

"I can't believe it, Helen--I can't believe-"

The Maro and Levon stood by their mother wondering why getting a job was such emotional news. Sonah quite superiorly thought she knew why.

"Helen, what do I do? Tell me exactly what I should do."

"It's simple, Guyanah- On Monday take the bus from the Aisle of Safety--the one that says Park Street on it. Ask the conductor if it goes to Francis Avenue. Get off in front of the factory at the end of the street. Right when you open the door you'll see the office. Tell them you're there to see Jimmy--Jimmy Donovan. They'll call him to the office to see you. Tell this to Jimmy-

"Mr. Jimmy, my cousin Helen says to me you will give me job. Please."

And after the women drank tea, gossiped and ate wlanut cookies, and the three children played their idea of dominos, ate an orange each, they became bored and sleepy, it was time to go home. Aunt Helen walked down the hall with them and stopped at the head of the stairs. Mom patted her on the shoulder and said,

"Helen, as long as I live I will never forget this big favor you did for us."

Aunt Helen shook her head indicating that she understood and appreciated Mom's thanks.

So Mom was hired and life for the new Americans became different. In some ways good different and in other ways bad.

Taking advantage of Marta's and George's most recent happiness, after supper the next day, Sonah asked,

"Mom, could you tell us the story of the crazy lady?"

"Oh, but I've told you that story a dozen times."

Maro chimed in,

"I haven't heard it a dozen times- Please, Mom- And Levon wants to hear it too. Don't you Levvo?"

Levon nodded his angelic and slightly vague smile. And Mom unable to say no to her cherub son, agreed,

"Come sit on the floor- And don't interrupt while I'm telling the story."

All three nodded and said yes. Very familiar with the story, Sonah began laughing with the first few words.

"There was and there was not a husband and wife. The wife wasn't actually crazy. To say she was simple was more accurate. Her husband, named Toros, was a poor carpenter who often had to leave home and go considerable distances from their house to repair someone's window or door.

As wives go, Seta was a good one. She cooked fatty but flavorful meals. She did the laundry-- washing everything in the nearby clean, bubbling brook. Toros had tied a rope between two trees for hanging the laundry to dry in the sun. Seta swept their humble two room house daily and dusted the few pieces of furniture with an olive oil soaked rag. Their house was a distance from their nearest neighbor and a day's journey by horse to the nearest town. Except for the rare peddler, they had no visitors.

Because his wife had no knowlege of shopping or the value of money, Toros hid his paltry earnings in a cloth bag under a floorboard by their bed. After a time, Seta noticed that her husband was hiding his money under the floorboard. She didn't know how to read or write. The only book they owned as an old Bible given them by the priest on his last annual house blessing visit. They had no children. Seta felt this loss and often wailed complaints to God for not giving them children.

One day when Toros was away from home for a job, Seta seized with loneliness, walked to the village which had a few shops. She looked with awe in the window of the fabric shop. Fabrics of magnificant, shimmering colors shown like a rainbow. In the corner of the window were laces seemingly made by fairies.

Seta never went into any of the shops. She watched other women buying fabrics with coins such as her husband hid under the floorboard.

When, Toros returned home, he asked how things had gone at home. She lied that she stayed home the entire time and that nothing special had happened. This was the first time in their marriage that Seta told a falsehood. Toros was a moody and taciturn man who barely kept his patience under control with Seta's odd behaviors. He had imagined a life better than the one he now led.

A month after Seta's trip to town, Toros was called to work on the large and beautiful house of the pasha. He told Seta that he would be staying at the home of his cousin, Mahnouk. This job would keep him away from home for at least two weeks. He kept his instructions to Seta simple and few. Mainly and most important he said was not opening the door to strangers.

She said,

"Don't worry husband--I will always lock the door after I've gone to the brook. And I will keep the key in my apron pocket."

"Lock the windows too. And don't forget to lock the door behind you when you return from the brook."

"Yes, husband. I know all about locking the door and not letting any strangers in."

Toros, though uneasy about being gone for so long, shrugged-- that was the way things were with his work. He packed his tools, a clean shirt, stockings, and two pairs of drawers and left.

Things went smoothly at home for Seta. She cleaned the house, washed the clothes, made simple meals for herself and even baked bread for the time when Toros would return.

She talked to the birds and sang when she was at the brook. The days dragged by monotonously. When the sun set and the rooms became dark, she went to her bed, prayed her usual prayer and fell asleep. Her sleep was disturbed and fitful. If only the great good God would send them children, she wouldn't be so lonely.

At the beginning of her second week alone, a peddler appeared at her door and knocked forcefully. Through a crack in the window she said,

"Go away. I can't let you in."

He held up his tray of beautiful shining fabrics and laces saying,

"Just let me show you the newest fabrics from Belgium and Italy-"

She said,

"Go away. My man said not to let you in."

"I won't come in, 'Mam. You can come out to look-"

Seta considered what the peddler had just said. Her husband hadn't given her any instructions about not going out of the house to talk with a peddler. Once again the peddler held up his tempting tray to the window.

"See, lady- aren't they beautiful? Think of all the lovely things you can make-"

Without hesitating, Seta opened the door and went to inspect the peddler's goods. He hadn't exaggerated. The fabrics and laces were like a living flower garden.

She sad,

"Oh, they are beautiful. It's no lie. I'll take them all."

He said,

"Whoa, there lady. You have to give me some money first."

"Money?"

"Yes, missus-"

and he took coins from his pocket to illustrate, "See-- money like this."

Seta said,

"I know. I have money. Just wait, please-"

The peddler shrugged and waited. It was obvious the woman was missing a few grains- But one never knew with those simple seeming types.

Seta ran into the house, locked the door behind her, went into the bedroom,and lifted the rug which concealed the floorboard. With little effort she pulled the money bag out and rushed to the peddler.

He beamed happily. If the woman bought the entire contents of his tray, he could rest for a week. Seta shook the contents of the money bag into the man's hand and bought all the fabrics, laces, buttons and thread.

He bowed deeply, quickly untied his donkey and rode away. Sometimes, God looked kindly on poor peddlers.

Seta's happiness was boundless.

She said,

"If God won't give me children, I'll make them myself. I'm going to make girl and boy children with my cloth so they can help me with my work."

Immediately, Seta began cutting and pinning and basting the fabric. That night she barely slept four hours. The next morning she continued cutting and pinning and basting and with small, fine stitches made the rag dolls.

On the third day she finished her work. Giddy with happiness she gave names to each of the rag dolls. Then she sat in the kitchen chair and began commanding them.

"Lahlezahr, wash the dishes-"

but rag doll Lahlezahr didn't budge.

She snapped,

"Alright, you just sit there. Anhnah, hang out the wash-"

Anhnah just stared at her with her black button eyes. Seta began losing patience.

"Kreekohr, your sisters are lazy. Bring in firewood-"

And Kreekohr stared insolently back at her with his big brown button eyes.

Raising her voice, she ordered,

"Duchess Yeghsa, start making chorbah- (chowder)."

Duchess Yeghsa didn't move a muscle.

Seta rattled off command after command to mute children. At last in a fury, she shouted,

"I won't put up with such laziness, insolence and disobedience!"

and saying this, one by one without regret, she threw them into the fire.

Quite satisfied that she had punished her children, she said,

"That will teach them to disobey their mother."

In the days that followed she continued her usual work routine only grumbling occasionally about her lazy children.

When the two weeks were up, Toros returned tired, dusty and hungry. Barely looking at her, he asked if anything had happened while he was gone.

She said,

"Yeah, the children disobeyed me. No matter what I asked them to do, they never budged-"

"What children, wife? We have no children-"

She said,

"Oh, yes- we had children. Four girls and three boys. When I asked them to help--they just sat there staring at me so I broke them up and threw them into the fire."

"Wife, what are you talking about? Have you gone mad?"

So she told him about the peddler and his tray of beautiful fabrics and laces. She boasted that she never let him into the house but took the coins under the floorboards to him and bought all he had. Toros was dumbstruck. He refused to believe that she had squandered his hard-earned money.

He rushed to the bedroom, pulled up the floorboards and searched for the bag of coins. Only the empty bag remained. At first he buried his face in his hands and wept loudly. Then he roared at Seta's utter stupidity. He roared about his poor luck in being married to a crazy woman.

He wept and roared at Seta until nightfall never pausing to eat. For her part, Seta was oblivious to and mystified by the reason for Toros'rage.

At midnight the tragedy of his life hit Toros full force. Pushing her from the house, he said,

"I can't live with you any more. Leave. Go where you want. I don't care what happens to you."

Sad, bewildered and frightened, Seta began walking in the dark. For long period of time clouds obscured the moon. She hoped that she was walking in the direction of the village with the shops she loved so much.

After a time she knew she was lost. Exhausted by all that had transpired, she huddled by a huge rock and fell asleep. Soon she was startled to wakefulness by the noise of someone approaching. Timidly she asked, "Who's there?"

No answer.

Then she heard the jangle of bells. At that moment the moon peered out from behind the clouds and she saw a camel. It was more than the usual camel--it was a camel with ornate trappings. He had obviously broken away from a caravan. He walked slowly as he was heavily laden with a buden.

She said,

"Don't worry, Brother Camel, I will take you to my house."

Seta had momentarily forgotten that her husband had banished her from their home. Taking the intricately woven cord, she instructed the camel to come with her. Amazingly, the camel obeyed.

When she finally found her house, it was nearly light. Seta knocked lightly on the door,

"Husband, husband--open the door. Brother Camel is here."

There was no answer from Toros. Seta knocked more loudly and called,

"Brother Camel is lost- I've brought him to our house."

Toros angrily called back,

"I thought I told you to leave-"

She said,

"I went away but Brother Camel found me."

Grumbling as Toros went to the door to peek,

"Crazy woman with a crazy story--a lost camel-"

With the door opened just a crack, he could hardly trust his eyes. Seta wasn't imagining or lying. There was a camel--what's more it wasn't an ordinary camel. This camel belonged to the king. He smiled. Perhaps his luck was finally about to change.

He whispered,

"Seta, my beloved, come in. I've missed you. It's good that you brought Brother Camel home. You are right--he is hungry and thirsty. You hurry into the house and make my breakfast. I'll look after Brother Camel."

Seta was overjoyed to be welcomed back,

"Husband, I know I did a good thing--bringing Brother Camel home so you could take care of him. Wasn't it a good thing?"

"Yes, a very good thing, my beloved Seta. Now go make me a big breakfast-"

While Seta busied herself making a hearty breakfast for Toros and a little breakfast for herself, Toros took the donkey behind the house and removed his burden. Staring into the tapestry bundle, he saw fabulous sapphire, ruby,and emerald gems and gold coins. Hardly able to breathe from joy and excitement, he said,

"This incredible good fortune mustn't be a dream."

He had to work quickly. His problem, of course, was Seta. She could barely be trusted to keep from babbling to everyone. Quietly he worked out a plan.

He looked in the window and saw Seta still busily making breakfast. He tied the camel in the shade of the large old tree by the brook. Then he gave the camel food and drink.

His heart stopped, when Seta opened the door and called,

"Husband-dear, breakfast is ready-"

He answered,

"Thank you, precious wife. I'll be in as soon as I feed the camel-"

Without curiosity about the camel or what Toros was doing, Seta went back into the house. She decided that she would make little pancakes she called, tuhkahleegs.

Toros went far from the house with the tapestry bundle of gems and gold coins. He walked past the apple and pear trees and stopped at the walnut tree. With the few carpenter's tools he had with him, he buried the king's treasure. Satisfied that no one could ever find it, he returned home.

An enormous problem remained. Right now the king's servants would be combing the entire area looking everywhere for the missing camel. He must return Brother Camel--but in such a way that he wouldn't be connected or suspected of unloading the treasure.

The answer was Seta.

While eating the most delicious breakfast, he casually said,

"Wife, we must return Brother Camel to the king-"

"Yes, husband. I'm sure Brother Camel misses his father."

"Seta, my precious flower, I have to do more work for the pasha. You'll have to take him to the king."

Filled with happiness at their new harmony and her husband's trust, she said,

"I'll take him to the castle. I know the way--but you must help me climb up to sit on Brother Camel."

Early the next day, Toros got his wife settled on the camel and headed them both in the direction of the castle. As they rode she told Brother Camel about buying the fabric, making the children who disobeyed her--and how she punished them.

After traveling for several hours, Seta and the camel came upon four of the king's soldiers riding jet black horses searching for the king's camel. Immediately recognizing the royal trappings of the king's camel,they shouted,

"Halt in the name of the King Huhrandt."

Seta called back,

"This is Brother Camel and I'm taking him home to his father--the king."

Dumbounfed the soldiers stared at one another. This was a very odd woman. The authoritative soldier with the red hair said,

"Woman, we have some questions for you-"

As if he recognized his people the camel stopped walking. The huskiest hairiest soldier dismounted and came to the camel and faced the woman who sat atop.

Motioning a downward gesture, he ordered the camel to kneel which frightened Seta. His voice was harsh.

"Alright, woman--where's the treasure?"

"No treasure, Sir Soldier."

The red haired one said,

"Let's start from the beginning. Tell us exactly how you came to have this camel-"

As she stepped off and away from the camel, without alarm, Seta began her story.

"Toros went to work at the pasha's and I stayed home. He said, don't open the door to anyone. Then a peddler came and I bought all the fabrics and made children--boys and girls. When I told Lahlehzar to do something, she just sat there lazy as you please. It was the same with the other children-"

The husky hairy soldier was impatient. He grasped Seta by the shoulders,

"Listen, woman. We don't have time for this rambling cock and bull story. We have to know about the king's camel-"

Seta said,

"I'm trying to tell you. You're being very rude. Hey you, soldier with the red hair, whip this rude fellow-"

The red haired one said,

"Ahmed, shut up and let the old woman talk. Madam I'll whip the rude soldier later. But now, madam please tell us more about Brother Camel-"

Seta explained,

"I didn't know what to do after all my trouble working for almost three days making those disobedient children. They made me so angry I broke them all up and threw them into the fire. I'm not sorry- No, I'm not the least bit sorry."

The sensitive blonde soldier interrupted-

"Were you in your right mind when you threw your children in the fire?"

The red-haired soldier made a tapping gesture on his head to indicate that the woman was genuinely crazy.

The blonde sensitive soldier persisted-

"Just one final question, Madam--where did you find the camel?"

Seta laughed,

"Brother Camel found me. Look at how sad he is- I'm taking him back to his father the king."

The red-haired soldier climbed back on his jet black horse saying,

"Come on, Ahmed- this is a lost cause. Someone else apparently intercepted the camel before she found him-"

Ahmed reluctantly climbed back on his jet black horse sighing and shrugging,

"I don't know. I still think there's something fishy about this loon's story-"

The blonde soldier said,

"Did you ever try to have a conversation with someone in a lunatic asylum?"

The red-haired soldier said,

"We can't just ride off like that. Two things-- what will we tell the king? The other--what will happen to this poor old lady?"

The hairy husky soldier mounted his black horse muttering,

"We'll tell the king a band of robbers had obviously lifted his tapestry bundle of treasure. Great, god Mohammed! It's not as if he doesn't have tons more jewels and coins-"

The red-haired solodier agreed to stick with the story of the robbers. The issue of leaving the crazy woman to walk lost in the desert was something his conscience couldn't permit. The blonde one said they should give her some kind of reward for trying to return the camel. The other nodded in agreement.

Uncharacteristically, the hairy husky soldier suggested,

"We'll all chip in one silver coin apiece. Four silver coins will be a generous reward-"

And so they put the silver coins in a silk handkerchief and gave it to the mystified woman. She knew it was good and a reward. Seta offered no word of gratitude, she merely smiled.

The blonde sensitive soldier asked,

"Madam, do you know your way back home?" Seta said,

"Brother Camel knows. He can take me-"

The soldiers laughed ruefully. The red-haired soldier said,

"No, woman--I'm afraid he can't. As you yourself said, he has to go home to his father the king. Can't you tell us where you live?"

Seta quickly replied,

"Of course I can. I live near the brook where three willow trees bend."

The blonde sensitive soldier said,

"Alright. I have it. We'll put her on the camel and go with her to the brook where three willows bend."

And so, that is what they did. Seta sang a wordless song as they traveled. The sun was midway in sky when they reached the brook she had so precisely described.

The hairy husky soldier helped her from the camel. She kissed his hand and said she was going to wash her feet in the brook before going home to Toros. The soldiers called farewell and blessings as they rode away.

Toros was overjoyed to have his simple Seta home again. He was an excellent cook and kept his clothes clean and the house tidy. He listened with disbelief as she described her meeting with the king's soldiers. It wasn't until she produced the silk handkerchief with the four silver coins did he accept her story as true.

He took the coins and promised,

"Tomorrow we're going to the village to buy you a red silk dress."

To Seta's total delight he did as he promised. When Seta was busy elsewhere, Toros secretly buried the treasure under a rock by the brook. Gradually as needed, he dug up a gem or gold coin. Seta got her red silk dress and they both lived comfortably and happily ever after.

The story ended there though they wished it would go on some more.

Sonah, Maro and Levon were in pure fairy story bliss.

Maro said,

"I like that story better than Cinderella."

Levon said,

"Me too."

Sonah said nothing. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could find a king's camel carrying jewels and gold.

Mom said,

"I'm glad you enjoyed the story. Now we have lots of work to do. Come along-"

Three months passed and the children asked for the story of the crazy woman and the king's camel. Mom sighed, said she was exhausted but relented finally and told it again to the same appreciative audience.

It seemed as if Sonah and Maro instantly grew up--even Leo who was two years younger than Maro seemed less a cherub and more like a very young boy.

And so it was that in September Mom was hired to operate the cutting machine at the Riverview Sportswear Company. Two months later she took her three children to meet "the girls."

Riverview Sportswear was an oily smelling place with filthy windows and machines which shook the building with their clamor.

Mom introduced them to her Italian, French, Irish and Polish "pals."

"Girls, these are my children. The oldest one is Sonah--then Maro and the little boy is Levon."

They fussed over the children giving them candy and chewing gum from large, black leather pocketbooks.

Minnie Scanlon said,

"Mother-a-God, will you look at them beautiful, big, brown eyes!

Rosa Malizia said,

"You lucky kids--you got good hard workin' Mama."

All Mom's "pals" seemed to have gray hair, yellow skin, and thick sagging cotton stockings. The factory was worse than a prison and Sonah hated having her noble mother working there.

When they were all back home, Mom said,

"Well, Sonah, what did you think of my factory and the girls?"

Sonah thought it best not to say what she really thought. She said instead,

"They're O.K. We need the money--don't we?"

Mom's thoughts drifted away and she didn't ask any more questions.

The next morning she overheard Mom and Dad discussing the rude letter Uncle Setrock, who Sonah had renamed "Uncle Sat-on-a-rock", wrote asking for the money he had given them as a loan. Levon had just been born and it was an awful time as Dad was laid off from the typwriter factory for bluntly speaking the truth about the workers need for a union. Then Maro was rushed to the hospital with appendicitis and had an operation.

Uncle Satonarock was their only relative without family obligations and he had a fair amount of money earned from his job as a pharmacist. Now he was in the midst of negotiations to become a partner in the drug store.

With the money Mom saved from her job at Riverview Sportswear, and a small loan from Aunt Helen they not only repaid Uncle Satonarock his money but Dad opened a tailor shop one block up the street from their tenement. Dad's friend, Mardiros, also a tailor--coached him on tailoring and operating a business.

It was no wonder Mom smiled more these days. Sometimes Sonah would catch her smiling to herself as they washed and dried dishes together.

"What are you smiling about, Mom?"

"Nothing. What's wrong with my smiling?"

"Nothing. I like it."

Winter mornings Mom left while it was still dark Dad left an hour later. He always woke Sonah by tickling the bottom of her feet. It wasn't funny but he thought it a joke so she played along as if it was a joke, giggling as she crept from her warm quilt.

Then Dad roused Levon, hurried him through dressing, a breakfast of corn flakes and then off to the tailor shop, tugging the boy along with him.

It was Sonah's job to get Maro ready. She nagged her sister until she was dressed and also barely ate a small bowl of corn flakes. They walked to school together and passed Dad's shop on the opposite side of the street.

Each day Mom gave Sonah ten cents to buy lunch for the them. At noon on their way home, they stopped at the First National where they bought whatever the dime would buy. Often it was a few slices of pressed ham or a can of Franco-American speghetti which they both loved.

Levon had lunch with Dad in the back of the tailor shop. Sometimes, Sonah and Maro joined them if Mom had made enough for all of them. As Leo was going to afternoon kinnygarden, his sisters guided him to the school. At the corner a policeman told them when it was alright to cross to the school.

The absolute best part of Mom's working was the pineapple filled pastry she bought from the French bakery twice a month as a reward for being good children while she worked at the factory.

A couple of years later the even better part of Mom's working was a movie treat--but the rule was only suitable Shirley Temple movies.

Winters in their cold flat were raw and unfriendly. Sonah,and Maro hurriedly bundled themselves and eachother into layers of clumsy clothing for the walk to school. Their clothes consisted of a cotton dress, a Mom knitted sweater, cotton stockings, artics, mittens, felt hats and matching "teddy bear" coats which were actually sheered lamb.

Earlier those mornings Levon would already be gone to the tailor shop with Daddy. It was Sonah's job to lock the front door and hide the key under the braided rug before the outer door.

This day, as usual, she and Maro held hands and galloped down the three flights of stairs at lightning speed, laughing and talking loudly all the while. The second floor tenant opened the door and wailed,

"Can't you kids come down quiet? I'm a sick woman-"

Maro said too loudly,

"She's lucky we're not wearing our roller skates."

Sonah grumbled,

"That woman's always sick-"

They hopped and skipped all the way to their first serious crossing which was Bristol Street-- the busiest but only street they had to cross without the help of a policeman. The month didn't pass when there wasn't some awful accident at that same intersection at Bristol and Jefferson.

Sonah grasped Maro's hand tightly as they waited for the light to turn green. The second it changed, she pulled Maro,

"Come on, run!"

They ran still holding hands. Instantly there was a wild screech of car brakes and a soft sickening thud. People began rushing to them from everywhere. Sonah was terrified. She knew that this was what was called "an accident". People stared at them. Fear squeezed her heart into a tight little fist. She worried that Maro was hurt bad-

Though Maro's orange felt hair was under the car, she didn't look injured sitting there in front of the car with her dark hair tousled. Sonah then realized that she hadn't been knocked down. She stood with no special injury but a slightly bothersome pain in her left foot. Maro's dark eyes filled with tears.

Sonah pulled her sister to her feet,

"Maro, are you O.K.?"

Maro nodded an uncertain yes.

The young driver who was just as frightened as the two girls, trembled as people questioned him. Someone finally said to him,

"They're the tailor's kids."

"Anybody know where I can find him?"

Fatso Gallucci told him that their Dad's store was about half a block up the street.

For Sonah this accident in an instant had become a very frightening, troubling situation. And she was guilty of some wrong. Somehow, they had to escape this terrible situation. Sonah whispered to Maro and then said in a forced strong voice,

"We're alright and we have to hurry to school or we'll be late."

Several people gasped and joined the young man in attempting to persuade the girls to go with the driver to the hospital for x-rays. Sonah knew about kidnapping and refused insisting they had to go to school before they were late. Some of the people left to go about their business. Others stayed with the young man who finally said,

"Look, someone come with me to the father's store. I better see him first. Then we can pick up the girls at school."

Hearing this meant sweet freedom for Sonah. She pulled Maro along, walking as rapidly as their ankles would permit without actually running. Fatso Gallucci puffed along after them explaining that being late this day wouldn't matter and they really should have gone to the hospital. The dumb ox. Didn't he realize that they knew they had been in an accident-

They saw the driver pull up in front of Dad's tailor shop but Sonah kept hurrying Maro along.

When Fatso was gone, Sonah asked Maro,

"Where did the car hit you?"

"My head. It was that fence in front of the car."

"They call that the bumper, Maro."

"O.K."

"Does it hurt a lot, Maro?"

"Not too bad-"

"You know, Maro- I think the car ran over my toe. It hurts."

Maro's eyes widened in terror.

"Don't worry, Maro. We're both O.K."

"That's good-"

When they reached the Jefferson Street School, the traffic policeman left his position on the opposite side of the street and came to them saying,

"You two girls just in an accident?"

Sonah trembled, unable to answer. How did he know?

Immediately crowds of children closed in around them. Maro began crying. Sonah, bewildered, frightened and sympathetic joined Maro in crying. Then Maro, now seeing Sonah cry and suspecting very serious trouble, cried even louder.

The old policeman made no attempt to comfort them but kept asking the same question.

"Girls, where are your parents?"

The more he questioned, the louder they cried, until it seemed as though there'd never be an end to their present nightmare.

Finally, after what seemed hours, there was relief when Sonah saw poor, quaking Daddy getting out of the young man's car parked across the street. He rushed to them and anxiously looked them over for obvious injuries. Seeing neither broken bones nor blood, he relaxed very slightly. At this point, the policeman simmered down and suggested they all go into the school and the nurse's office.

The tough, white-haired nurse looked at Sonah's foot and Maro's head but was unable to offer anything by way of a definite diagnosis. By the time the nurse finished, the room was mobbed with three teachers, the principal, a newspaper reporter, the policeman, the young man who hit them and Daddy.

Everyone asked questions and they were always the same ones over and over about what color the light was when they crossed. It seemed like they were trying to mix Sonah up. Did they think she was a stupid dope? If the light was green, it was green. By now the fear had worn off and Sonah decided her questioners were the dumb dopes for not knowing that little girls are always much smarter than big people think.

When they were through or when they gave up, Daddy said that since Uncle was taking care of Leo at the store, he would go to the hospital with them. They all agreed that the girls needed a real doctor to examine them.

As they entered the huge, brownstone hospital, a dark fear plunked down like a iron ball in Sonah's heart. Maro and she were taken to a medicine smelling white room with scary knives, scizzors, tweezers, bandages, cotton and other stuff. Sonah held her breath and wondered if Maro was as scared as she.

A few minutes later a handsome, blonde doctor came into the room.

"Hi- I'm Doctor Benjamin Turner and you may call me Benny. No one else has that privilege."

He moved loosely casually. When he winked at Sonah, she knew she was in love with him and wanted to marry him. Whistling a merry tune, he read their names and whatever else was on the sheets of paper. Then he looked at the ceiling for a minute. Sonah began to giggle.

He pointed a finger at them and said,

"I bet you girls are Armenian."

They became mute with astonishment. The doctor was a magician. How did he know? No one had ever guessed right before. But his magic didn't stop there. He asked if they ate dolma, kufta, and pelav. His pronunciations were perfect.

Maro stammered,

"Are you Armenian too?"

Sonah was embarassed by Maro. Any dope would know Armenians aren't blonde. He shook his head,

"No, darn it. I wish I were. I think it must be fun."

Sonah wanted to ask about his nationality but couldn't work up the courage.

Dr. Benny Turner resumed whistling and gently took Sonah's shoe off to examine her foot. After asking questions about where the pain began and ended, he examined Maro. He wrote some things on the papers and then said,

"O.K. this is what I think. We'll keep beautiful dark eyes here overnight to take a few more pictures of the bump on her head. O.K? But you, big sister, you can go home with Dad."

"Sweetheart, your big toe will be better in a few days if you just keep eating nutritious kufta and pelav."

Daddy took her home. Maro stayed. The house was even colder without Maro. Levon just kept clumsily cutting out pictures from a magazine.

The next day Daddy brought Maro home. Within a few hours Maro had become a heroine and authority on doctors, hospitals, and medicine. She said that the pictures of her head were O.K. She told Sonah that she loved Dr. Turner and was going to marry him when she grew up.

Sonah said,

"Don't be dumb. He can't marry both of us. I'm the big sister so he'll marry me"

Maro began crying. When Mom discovered the cause of her grief she said,

"Neither of you can marry him. He's not Armenian."

And that put an end to that dilemma but for a long time it seemed an enormous injustice.