Tweet
GENOCIDE SURVIVOR OJEN FANTAZIAN MAINTAINED HER VIGIL
by Tom Vartabedian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2013/01/30/genocide-survivor-ojen-fantazian-maintained-her-vigil/
January 30, 2013
BILLERICA, Mass.-Even in death, Ojen Fantazian left an indelible
impression.
Genocide survivor Ojen Fantazian lived for her family.
Dignified to the end, the 99-year-old genocide survivor gave her family
and friends another reason to celebrate her life, and a monumental
one at that.
Dozens gathered at St. Stephen's Church in Watertown to pay their
final respects to a woman who never wavered, not during the turmoil
that struck her native village of Chimichgadzag. Not during the loss
of her husband Harry at an early age. Not during an occasional health
lapse that might have robbed her vitality, but never her spirit.
She regularly attended genocide commemorations, often the only
survivor representing her peers; attended church services with family
members; continued reading her Armenian journals; and still listened
to an opera.
Her death brings the number of remaining survivors in Merrimack Valley
and southern New Hampshire to two, Nellie Nazarian and Thomas Magarian,
both in their centennial years.
As a member of the Armenian Genocide Commemorative Committee of
Merrimack Valley, I looked forward to her annual visits to our
observances, much the same way I did my own mom. And for good reason.
Aside from the fact they were both survivors, they also shared a
mutual namesake. They were both Ojens. And they would sit next to
one another and bring each other comfort with their red carnations
in hand and their faces written with emotion.
The similarities were remarkable. Both escaped turmoil in their native
villages, my Ojen from Dikranagert, Ojen Fantazian from Chimichgadzag.
Both succumbed just short of their 100th year.
As they fled for their lives, they watched loved ones being deported
and persecuted. They watched the breath being taken from their
homeland.
Through sacrifice and commitment, they maintained their identity and
were a voice for fellow immigrants who followed them to this Promised
Land. In unity, they portrayed strength.
I watched with pride as the two Ojens took each other's hand and sang
the "Hayr Mer." They were our rock, our inspiration, our identity.
It made me realize that among the truly precious commodities in
life-far deeper than money or all the objects of ambition-is the love
we share for those who made our existence possible and the friendships
of all those whom we treasure deeply.
The pedestal Ojen Fantazian was put upon one year at the Massachusetts
Statehouse could have very well have been the footstool in her kitchen.
My mother was the last of her kind to leave Haverhill. Ojen Fantazian
was in a class by herself in Billerica inside a community that once
bolstered some 75 survivors in the mid-1960's.
The thought of Ojen and her timeless pearls of wisdom, her jovial
character, which brought a smile to those she embraced and joy to an
often dreary world.
In her latter days, she held court at an assisted living facility,
noting the time when the genocide struck and people were fleeing the
country. "We took a horse and buggy and we were with the animals in
the train," she recalled.
Ojen presented a film that was made of her childhood escape, joined
by her son Jim, a local optometrist.
Ojen, along with her mother, grandmother, aunt, uncle, and two cousins,
were driven from their village by Ottoman-Turkish scoundrels.
As they fled for their lives, they squeezed into small places on
undesirable transportation while traveling with soldiers.
Children in the family spent time in the orphanage while their parents
tried to earn money in any way possible.
To illustrate the severity of her situation, Ojen told the story of
an Armenian general who handed her mother a gun for protection on
the road. She always remembered him as her hero.
"It's a wonder we escaped," Ojen often said. "A lot of times, we
didn't have food. We would suffer."
After having her head shaved to ensure she would pass a lice
inspection, Ojen and her family boarded a vessel departing for Greece,
crossing the Black Sea and eventually landing on Ellis Island in 1920.
Ojen specifically recalled mothers throwing their children into the
river, believing that such a burial was a more desirable fate than
falling into the hands of the Turks. Her own mother once admitted
she had considered doing the same.
"We would have been murdered or taken as slaves by the Turks,"
she recounted. "I never knew my father, who had previously come to
America when I was a baby. He never made it back to Armenia."
The American dream quickly turned into reality. The family lived with
an uncle in Leominster, Mass., quickly adapting to their new world.
Her mother remarried a fellow Armenian refugee and they moved to
Lawrence, then Worcester, where her stepfather bought a convenience
store. Ojen worked there as a child.
She spent most of her adult life in Arlington, where she and her
husband raised two active children, James and Nancy, Two grandchildren,
James Asbedian and Susan Ciaffi, and six great-grandchildren brought
her extended happiness over time.
For 10 years, she helped teach English to foreign children in the
Arlington School System and once presided over the Parent Teacher
Organization (PTO). She was a lover of classical music, especially
opera, and often attended the Metropolitan Opera Society presentations
in Boston.
She enjoyed seeing some of the great artists of her time and instilled
a musical interest in her children.
Ojen supported a number of Armenian charities throughout her life,
donating what little money she could muster. For years, she sent
the Prelacy checks for orphans, always with an encouraging note. Her
generosity was straight from the heart.
"My age has nothing to do with it," she often told others. "So long
as I feel healthy and willing, I want to serve my heritage."
Among the other survivors is a brother, David Davidian.
During one of her tributes, it was mentioned how Ojen loved the stories
that were periodically written and told about her, especially those
that talked about her teaching days. She treasured that role and the
rewards that came from educating students.
May she rest in peace.
by Tom Vartabedian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2013/01/30/genocide-survivor-ojen-fantazian-maintained-her-vigil/
January 30, 2013
BILLERICA, Mass.-Even in death, Ojen Fantazian left an indelible
impression.
Genocide survivor Ojen Fantazian lived for her family.
Dignified to the end, the 99-year-old genocide survivor gave her family
and friends another reason to celebrate her life, and a monumental
one at that.
Dozens gathered at St. Stephen's Church in Watertown to pay their
final respects to a woman who never wavered, not during the turmoil
that struck her native village of Chimichgadzag. Not during the loss
of her husband Harry at an early age. Not during an occasional health
lapse that might have robbed her vitality, but never her spirit.
She regularly attended genocide commemorations, often the only
survivor representing her peers; attended church services with family
members; continued reading her Armenian journals; and still listened
to an opera.
Her death brings the number of remaining survivors in Merrimack Valley
and southern New Hampshire to two, Nellie Nazarian and Thomas Magarian,
both in their centennial years.
As a member of the Armenian Genocide Commemorative Committee of
Merrimack Valley, I looked forward to her annual visits to our
observances, much the same way I did my own mom. And for good reason.
Aside from the fact they were both survivors, they also shared a
mutual namesake. They were both Ojens. And they would sit next to
one another and bring each other comfort with their red carnations
in hand and their faces written with emotion.
The similarities were remarkable. Both escaped turmoil in their native
villages, my Ojen from Dikranagert, Ojen Fantazian from Chimichgadzag.
Both succumbed just short of their 100th year.
As they fled for their lives, they watched loved ones being deported
and persecuted. They watched the breath being taken from their
homeland.
Through sacrifice and commitment, they maintained their identity and
were a voice for fellow immigrants who followed them to this Promised
Land. In unity, they portrayed strength.
I watched with pride as the two Ojens took each other's hand and sang
the "Hayr Mer." They were our rock, our inspiration, our identity.
It made me realize that among the truly precious commodities in
life-far deeper than money or all the objects of ambition-is the love
we share for those who made our existence possible and the friendships
of all those whom we treasure deeply.
The pedestal Ojen Fantazian was put upon one year at the Massachusetts
Statehouse could have very well have been the footstool in her kitchen.
My mother was the last of her kind to leave Haverhill. Ojen Fantazian
was in a class by herself in Billerica inside a community that once
bolstered some 75 survivors in the mid-1960's.
The thought of Ojen and her timeless pearls of wisdom, her jovial
character, which brought a smile to those she embraced and joy to an
often dreary world.
In her latter days, she held court at an assisted living facility,
noting the time when the genocide struck and people were fleeing the
country. "We took a horse and buggy and we were with the animals in
the train," she recalled.
Ojen presented a film that was made of her childhood escape, joined
by her son Jim, a local optometrist.
Ojen, along with her mother, grandmother, aunt, uncle, and two cousins,
were driven from their village by Ottoman-Turkish scoundrels.
As they fled for their lives, they squeezed into small places on
undesirable transportation while traveling with soldiers.
Children in the family spent time in the orphanage while their parents
tried to earn money in any way possible.
To illustrate the severity of her situation, Ojen told the story of
an Armenian general who handed her mother a gun for protection on
the road. She always remembered him as her hero.
"It's a wonder we escaped," Ojen often said. "A lot of times, we
didn't have food. We would suffer."
After having her head shaved to ensure she would pass a lice
inspection, Ojen and her family boarded a vessel departing for Greece,
crossing the Black Sea and eventually landing on Ellis Island in 1920.
Ojen specifically recalled mothers throwing their children into the
river, believing that such a burial was a more desirable fate than
falling into the hands of the Turks. Her own mother once admitted
she had considered doing the same.
"We would have been murdered or taken as slaves by the Turks,"
she recounted. "I never knew my father, who had previously come to
America when I was a baby. He never made it back to Armenia."
The American dream quickly turned into reality. The family lived with
an uncle in Leominster, Mass., quickly adapting to their new world.
Her mother remarried a fellow Armenian refugee and they moved to
Lawrence, then Worcester, where her stepfather bought a convenience
store. Ojen worked there as a child.
She spent most of her adult life in Arlington, where she and her
husband raised two active children, James and Nancy, Two grandchildren,
James Asbedian and Susan Ciaffi, and six great-grandchildren brought
her extended happiness over time.
For 10 years, she helped teach English to foreign children in the
Arlington School System and once presided over the Parent Teacher
Organization (PTO). She was a lover of classical music, especially
opera, and often attended the Metropolitan Opera Society presentations
in Boston.
She enjoyed seeing some of the great artists of her time and instilled
a musical interest in her children.
Ojen supported a number of Armenian charities throughout her life,
donating what little money she could muster. For years, she sent
the Prelacy checks for orphans, always with an encouraging note. Her
generosity was straight from the heart.
"My age has nothing to do with it," she often told others. "So long
as I feel healthy and willing, I want to serve my heritage."
Among the other survivors is a brother, David Davidian.
During one of her tributes, it was mentioned how Ojen loved the stories
that were periodically written and told about her, especially those
that talked about her teaching days. She treasured that role and the
rewards that came from educating students.
May she rest in peace.