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Los Angeles Times Valley Edition | Glendale News-Press | 2004 October 16
Dash, Devon, and the neighbors
BY PATRICK AZADIAN
Dash and Devon had been neighbors and friends for as long as they could remember. The boys were born in Glendale in 1982. Dash's parents, Sergei and Lilit Erzerumian, had moved to America in 1973 from Soviet Georgia's capital, Tbilisi.
Devon's parents, John and Katrina Holts, were natives of the city. They had also been Dash's volunteer baby-sitters for as long as Sergei and Lilit attended English night school during their first few years of arrival.
Sergei and Lilit had given Dash a regal Armenian name, Ardashes.
Ardashes' name had been shortened in sixth grade by his English teacher, Miss Mavely. She had a hard time pronouncing names that were not rooted in the Anglo-Saxon tongue. On the first day of class, Miss Mavely informed her green-eyed Caucasian pupil of her unilateral decision:
"I will call you 'Dash.' "
On the second class meeting, Mrs. Mavely handed Dash "Madness in the Family" by William Saroyan: "This is your required reading for this class." Soon Ardashes' resistance gave way to a full embrace of his new nickname. Having read Saroyan's book, he attached a new sense of legitimacy to "Dash"; one of the Armenian names in the book had been shortened to "Trash."
Unlike Dash, Devon had managed to hang onto his name. John and Katrina had stumbled upon the name on their first dinner date at Damon's on Brand; the waiter was a polite West Indian lad named Devon. From that day, Katrina had her heart set on the name.
After high school, Dash and Devon had followed each other's footsteps to the UCLA Sociology Department. They now shared an apartment in Westwood, but their close partnership was to come to an end at college graduation. Dash had decided to go into law, and Devon was determined to pursue his PhD in sociology.
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"Hey, Dash, I think our parents are not on speaking terms."
"What happened?"
"Mom was trying to explain on the phone. Something about a petition. I blocked out that part of the conversation."
"Give 'em a week. Katrina and Lilit will be having afternoon tea and biscuits in no time."
"Probably less. My mom's already building bridges," Devon responded.
"What's her construction plan and projected completion date?"
"Groundbreaking is Friday. She insisted you come over for dinner with me to our house."
"That may be awkward, but I think my parents are out of town. And I do miss your mom's schnitzel. I'm in as the catalyst for peace."
"You'll be well rewarded. She is making schnitzel."
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"How's the schnitzel, Dash?"
"Great, Mrs. Holts!"
"Your favorite dish since you were 4... we've always enjoyed having you around."
"I like being here, Mrs. Holts."
"Your parents have not been over for some time now."
"Well, they are out of town." Dash attempted to delay the issue.
"Sergei refused to sign our petition."
"What was the petition all about?" Devon asked.
"The new neighbors across the street are very loud on the weekends. We thought we can hand them a complaint signed by all neighbors; Sergei refused to sign."
The Rostamians across the street were new to the area. Just last month, a few of their family members were finally sworn in as U.S. citizens. And as if they needed an occasion to celebrate, they organized a get-together elaborate enough to be mistaken for a wedding.
Katrina continued: "Every Sunday there is something happening at their house. Last month's gathering was out of control. The kids were playing in the street, the music was blasting, and as if they hadn't had enough of each other all day, they spent 53 minutes saying goodbyes on the street at 1 a.m."
"Fifty-three minutes, huh, Mom?"
"Yes, fifty-three minutes, son!"
"All this means is that this specific family has not been acculturated yet. We've studied this in sociology." Devon seized the opportunity to finally apply his major to a current topic.
"Well, they are American citizens now. It's time they get acculturated," Katrina responded.
"Come on, Mom! You don't sleep one night, and get up the next day and internalize every single local custom." Devon continued: "In their birthplace, they would probably have a loud get-together one weekend and then the neighbors would have an even louder event the weekend after. And everyone would live happily ever after." Devon was on a roll: "I am sure Grandpa Johannes had feasts of sausage and warm beer every weekend and played live German music in the backyard."
"I don't know about that, son. Johannes Buchholts did not have too many relatives in Germantown, Pennsylvania," John interrupted. "When he arrived from Klefeld in the Rhine Valley, all he did was work and sleep for a few hours. He didn't have time for beer."
GG"I guess they don't make immigrants like they used to, right, Dad?"
"Leave me out of this, son."
"Next summer, after my graduation, I plan to throw fraternity-style theme parties at our house, every weekend, all summer. The new neighbors will understand."
John gave his passive approval: "Suit yourself. We'll make sure we're in Europe."
"Excellent, Dad! Make sure you make up with the Erzerumians by then. I know you'll have more fun with them around..."
Copyright 2004 Glendale News Press
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