The entire history of Armenians In Fresno rests at the Ararat Cemetery; The good people, famous personalities, Unscrupulous con-artists, notorious characters. On Sunday morning, there is no direct sun light Shining on the memorial of the 8,000 residents Of the City of Chungoush, perished in 1915, Or the mass grave of the unknown orphans. There is no surprise at the young ages, Nearly forgotten names and familiar faces In the oval pictures on the gravestones....
In the church hall, we sat at a table With folks that farm in the far reaches Of the county, between Parlier and Del Rey. Seldom seen, except on occasions like this, By their dress, it was evident They didn’t get into town much. Hampig wore a tie from 1940. His brother wore a brown belt Above his mid-section, short arms Resting on his chest, fingers interlocked. They talked to Garig about the packing-shed, That old walnut tree his father planted In front of the tarpaper house, near the road Forty years ago, when the vines were planted; The 20 acres of black Muscats....