Those Dark and Cold Days (On Aiding Others)

Around the time of Armenia's independence from the USSR my father made the move from New York to Yerevan. His reasons were many, but in those early years the primary focus of his attention was a number of soup kitchens aimed at feeding the newly independent people.

When the USSR collapsed it created a massive disruption in trade. Armenia, among the smallest of the Republics, relied heavily on imports, mostly by design, in order for food and goods. The lack of import, the disruption of government, and fierce winters created a new impoverished class primarily among children and the elderly, those people who had the hardest time fending for themselves.

I was fairly young at the time, and there was in me a certain amount of resentment, as though my father had chosen the children of Armenia over our family. But during my first visit to Armenia I was able to see the initial impact of my father's work. 

As I looked around watching these people receive food, medicine, and clothes, I felt small. These men and women lived a reality I barely understood, and here was my dad working to make that reality bearable. 

Twenty years later while living in Armenia I would on occasion encounter individuals who had been helped by my father. Their respect and affection for him had only increased over time; each encounter a string of praise.

There was something very heartening in seeing the results of his efforts; proof that not everything is selfishly motivated.

My father amazes me in this way; how he is capable of incredible kindness. There is in a love of his culture and his care for his people that runs deeper than can be seen. He mentioned to me some of the decision and actions he had to take for the greater good, decisions that may have balked other men. 

But he took on these burdens regardless of the personal cost, guilt, pain, and long term estrangement from his children. 

I believe it takes a certain kind of person to help others without having expectation in return. Not once have I heard my father brag about the things he has done. If he is proud, it seems he is not one to share that pride.

It has occurred to me that I am only privy to an incomplete picture of the events at that time; but my encounters with others and the stories told to me by those familiar with his circumstances suggest that his was a mission to simply aid others achieve a better standard of living.

A rare quality. A quality I would like to emulate.