As I mentioned previously, I called my friends in Boston to let them know I was heading to Armenia after a wonderful year in America. They told me that if I had not already booked the tickets, I should fly through Boston and spend a couple days before going back. It sounded like a good idea since I did not know if I would ever see them again. During this detour, I met their daughter (I had no idea they even had kids)…

It was a sunny day in August of 1993. I was all worried. How does one greet his new family? Would the Armenian hug and kiss be accepted? Who would be meeting me at the airport? As I walked down from the plane, I saw a group ahead of me with a banner held up high welcoming me. My new family welcomed me with open arms and hugs. It was the absolute best welcome anyone could ever expect. Two of the best people I have ever met were appointed…

The summer of 1993 marked the first time a dream had come true for me. With about $140 in my pocket, I boarded the plane to come to America, young but serious about my goals and my responsibility to help my family. Even if I couldn’t help, at least I did not want to be a burden, another stomach to feed…

Spring in Armenia is beautiful because it brings with it hope and the mild fragrance of the fruit trees in blossom everywhere. The spring of 1993 was more special as it brought a new type of hope. Now that I had made the first step, I had to do everything possible to be accepted into the program. I was given the impossible task of completing the application…

It was the winter of 1993. Yerevan was covered with a white freezing blanket of snow. It was serene and peaceful outside, no cars, no people, nothing. Just the snow… and the occasional smoke emanating from a makeshift tin exhaust vent built into the kitchen or living room window, a pipe on a wall made black by whatever people had been burning to stay warm…