The creation of the Creeksong audiobook is a pivotal moment in my life and that of Chris, my partner and the audiobook director and producer. Our “sound” man. As I approached the project, I found myself delving into uncharted territory. While it took energy to complete the print and eBooks, the task of presenting my stories and journey in a new auditory format required a completely fresh perspective.
My communication style has always been multi-dimensional. I’ve traversed various media, from incorporating songs into speeches at conferences to using multimedia in training. Even my early stint on an ABC radio program in Adelaide acquainted me with the power of voice. So, I loved learning to be an audiobook narrator. And I love to reflect with my partner on how we created our Creeksong audiobook. Last night was no exception. Sitting in the bar in the Sylvia Hotel on English Bay in Vancouver’s West End, amidst a bustling beach scene (an exceptionally warm and sunny day for early Spring), Chris and I found ourselves engrossed in another discussion about our audiobook and its significance. One chapter, “Meeting My Armenian Family,” sparked profound contemplation.
I’ve been sick for months and could not work. I’d often read and reread my book and listen to the audiobook as I sought to recover. As I battled with long covid, I found solace in introspection. Not surprisingly, the chapters of the Creeksong book (some having almost written themselves) often occupied my thoughts. “Meeting my Armenian family” is no exception.
The chapter begins like this. At six and three-quarters, I harbored impatience towards a “detour” to San Francisco, yearning to begin Grade One and embark on adulthood. However, as soon as I met my elderly Armenian great-aunts, Hosannah and Rachel Sarkissian, everything changed.
Their generosity, kindness, and tenderness eclipsed my initial reservations and unveiled layers of compassion and understanding previously foreign to me. Their story, steeped in tragedy and resilience, is a classic refugee experience. Traumatized and dispossessed by the Armenian Genocide and subsequent persecutions, they ultimately sought solace in San Francisco, seeking what they called “a new life”.
Their wisdom transcended generational boundaries and offered me guidance that I valued through periods of dispossession in my own life. Amazingly, their lessons in hope, fortitude, and persistence continue to resonate 75 years later, as I continue to navigate life’s adventures. In a world now grappling with climate breakdown and collapse, their message of intergenerational equity echoes louder than ever. Today, as younger generations face grief and anxiety because of the repercussions of environmental degradation, it’s all the more important to bridge generational gaps. The compassion and gentle guidance of my elderly relatives, rooted in profound loss and resilience, serve as a beacon in my quest to navigate the complexities of climate breakdown.
I believe that this chapter encapsulates the idiosyncrasies of crisis and the resilience inherent in the human spirit. Despite enduring unimaginable hardships, my Armenian great-aunts embodied compassion and empathy. Their approach to life transcended cultural and generational divides. Their legacy, etched in my memory, continues to shape my worldview. As I reflect on their journey and its parallels to mine, I’m reminded of the profound impact of human connection and resilience in the face of adversity.
“Meeting My Armenian Family” reminds me of the transformative power of compassion, resilience, and intergenerational wisdom. It’s a story that offers profound insights into the human experience.
Today, as I navigate life’s uncertainties, I draw inspiration from the resilience of those who came before me. Their stories can serve as a guiding light. They can illuminate our path towards a more compassionate, equitable future for all beings.
Much is going on in this chapter.
And there’s a back story that I will explain in another post.
I don’t remember any of this.
And all of it is true.
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