A living stone of Jerusalem's Armenian Quarter

Kevork "George" Jansezian, aka Dede

Millions of tourists and pilgrims have flocked to Jerusalem's Old City for centuries to see all the historic, religiously significant and archaeologically dazzling sites it contains. This one tiny swath of earth has, and still draws, attention from all around the world.

And yet for me and my siblings, only two landmarks compelled us to flock to the Old City every weekend: Nene and Dede.

But now, one of those historic landmarks is no longer. After a three-week stay in a hospital Dede has died. He passed away in his sleep on Feb. 27, 2018.

Kevork “George” Jansezian — who was born in British Mandate Palestine, raised in Jordan and died in the State of Israel, all having never left the Old City — died at 82 years old. His parents escaped Turkey during the Armenian Genocide and sought refuge in Jerusalem.

Kevork spoke at least four languages including Armenian, Arabic, Turkish and English. He was orphaned at 5 years old, the youngest of three siblings all of whom preceded him in leaving Jerusalem and this world. After their parents died, the siblings were taken in by the Armenian Patriarch at the time and were raised in and by the close-knit community. Kevork is the only one who remained in the city till the end, while his siblings eventually moved to Dubai and Australia.

The orb of Kevork's existence encompassed a half-kilometer radius. He lived in the Old City, his home since birth, specifically the Armenian Quarter, the smallest of all sections in the Old City in both size and population. Governments came and went, wars raged, but Kevork remained, a living stone in the walls, a rock of the Armenian Quarter and in one of the two social clubs at the Armenian convent.

He was a man true to his word, never fake, extremely friendly and well liked. He was strong in character. Kevork was a photographer for most of his professional life. Later he created designs for ceramics, intricate works comprised of minuscule squares that made up Jerusalem’s walls and colorful floral patterns.

But, of course, his best legacy has to be his son, my dad, Tony.

Now this is truly amazing and rare and speaks of a life worthy of novels and film, but Dede would've been the last person to take note of any of this. Kevork was content with his own status quo and the occasional night out with the guys in Bethlehem.

And us, his grandchildren.

Like warriors of yore, we charged through Jaffa Gate every Saturday and made our way around to Zion Gate stopping just as we came to the height across the massive valley from the Mount of Olives. Right there is our Mecca - Nene and Dede's souvenir shop.

"Hokis," (my soul), Dede's eyes would light up as we rounded the bend and he would scoop us up for a big hug, defying his aching back. We would twirl around the ceramic Armenian pottery, the Hebron glass and other delicate items that children are prone to destroy. Then we would dart out of the shop threatening to jump in front of passing traffic as children are also wont to do. It's amazing Dede didn't die earlier of the heart attacks we caused.

This is our Jerusalem. This is our Old City. The ancient sites are to us as the Statue of Liberty is to mommy who grew up in New York: Taken For Granted.

We have more important things to attend to there. Grandparents.

Grandparents always trump yawning historic sites and churches. Nene and Dede would welcome us and then usher us to a feast prepared at their apartment, which faces the very mount on which they say Jesus will return. From there, he wept for Jerusalem.

Today, we weep for this city. Today one of its Living Stones will be buried on Mount Zion, a memorial to the dwindling but enduring Armenian community. Our beloved grandfather.

Dede and I celebrating Christmas 2012

Services will take place Wednesday, Feb. 28 at Saint James Cathedral in the Armenian convent at 4:00 followed by a procession to the Armenian cemetery outside Zion Gate and concluding with coffee at the club. 

Our last moments with Dede these past three weeks:

At Hadassah Ein Karem three weeks ago

No hospital bed will keep me from you!

A few more weeks and we would've run this hospital

Ushering Dede to an MRI

Passing time while waiting for the MRI

Dispensing drugs, just your every day child activity

Saying goodbye at the hospice Monday night

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100 Years - A Sad Memory and a Need to Recognize

As you know, this is my blog that revolves around me, radiates my various activities and cuteness and reports about whatever I choose to pontificate. For those reasons, I very rarely allow a guest post.

This is one of those occasions as I feel obliged to allow my mother some of my cyber space for her own writing mostly because what she wrote 1. is about me and 2. is timely.

Tomorrow, April 24, is the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. And so, here is mommy and what she has to say about that, originally posted here and copied and pasted with her permission:

What Genocide Victims and People with Special Needs Have in Common

“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”

Martin Niemöller (1892–1984)

By Nicole Jansezian

Martin Niemöller, a German Lutheran pastor and theologian, became an outspoken critic of the Nazis in Germany and was sentenced to a concentration camp for his crime of speaking against the regime. His famous poem, quoted above, has been reworded over the years and used to make a point: If we don’t speak up now for others, we place ourselves in inevitable danger.

I married an Armenian and when I did I married into a cause. If one characteristic marks Armenians, aside from their pride in being the first Christian nation, it is the hovering pall of the Armenian Genocide.

Yerevan, the capital city of Armenia with a view of
Mount Ararat in modern day Turkey

Have you heard of it? Many have not. This Friday is the commemoration of 100 years of this atrocity in which 1.5 million Armenians were killed at the hands of the Ottoman Empire. On April 24, 1915, the Ottoman government executed more than 200 Armenian leaders in Constantinople. What followed were years of systematic abductions, expropriation of assets, executions, death marches and starvation in an effort to eliminate the Armenian population in present-day Turkey.


Armenians around the world can’t shake the specter of this haunting time because many world superpowers refuse to call it “genocide.” Russia, France and about 20 other countries recognize it as such while the United States, Britain and Israel do not. Turkey, in its insistence to avoid culpability, denies it happened.

But long before any nation recognized what occurred in Armenia, Adolf Hitler did. Hitler observed that his own genocide would be successful because no one remembered the Armenians. And so he spent years methodically annihilating people who didn’t fit into his world, most predominately 6 million Jews. The Holocaust occurred partly because genocide had already been allowed by the world.

And yet, before he rounded up the Jews, Hitler experimented with another group: the disabled and terminably ill. According to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, in October 1939, Hitler initiated the killing of Germans he deemed “unworthy of life.” Some 200,000 handicapped people were murdered between 1940 and 1945. This became the model for the mass murder of Jews and a training ground for the concentration camps.

These despicable historic events bring me to the present. Daniel, my young son, is of Armenian descent and he has special needs. He would’ve been targeted in either genocide because of his identity.

Thankfully we live in a society today where Daniel is treated with dignity and love. I don’t expect any laws to be legislated against his existence. And he has advocates like those we found at SHALVA, the Association for Mentally and Physically Challenged Children in Israel.

Shalva’s work, quite opposite to Hitler, is to improve the quality of life for children with special needs and their families. To give hope. To instigate progress. Shalva is fostering a more knowledgeable and compassionate social climate for people with disabilities so they will be included and never again looked upon as a lesser group or a weak link.

Thanks to Shalva, Efrat Dotan (Down syndrome) and Matanel Biton (developmental delays) worked at an Israeli newspaper and interviewed national and international celebrities and politicians. Dina Samte, a singer who is blind, performed on a New York City stage along with percussionist  Yair Vomberg, who has Down syndrome.

In order to pave the way for more opportunities such as these, we must continually speak up for those who have no voice.

If we do not recognize we cannot repair, rebuild and move forward. Failing to speak out for one group regarding an atrocity is a moral failure. And for me, failing to speak up is failing my son. 

“Denial of genocide … is not an act of historical reinterpretation … but an insidious form of intellectual and moral degradation.” Holocaust scholar Deborah Lipstadt said.

Edmund Burke is known for this famous quote: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” I’d like to add, “and to say nothing.”

So as a defender, advocate and mother, I must speak up for recognition of the Armenian Genocide and its victims.

May this 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide be a time for us all to remember, represent and advocate for and to recognize the defenseless.

*****

Nicole is wife to Tony Jansezian and mother to Daniel and two other Italian-Armenian Israeli-born kids. She heads up Christian Friends of Shalva. To support SHALVA’s work and create more success stories such as mentioned above and for Daniel and his friends too, click here.  

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Celebrating Life, Remembering Death

Note the Armenian flag in the background.

Today is my first Easter. Happy Easter! Buona Pasqua! Shad Darinerou! 

In a weird twist of the calendar, the same day I say Happy Easter to everyone, I also, as a good Armenian, must urge: Don't forget the Armenian Genocide.

Today is April 24. This year it happens to be Easter Sunday. But every year April 24 is the day we remember the Armenian Genocide and call upon the world to recognize it. More on that in a future post.

Actually there's lots about being Armenian that I've already learned in my eight months, so let's review:

1. All Armenians are proud to be Armenian. And that entails a few significant details:

a. We were the first Christian nation declared such in 301 AD, and thus when we say Shad Darinerou, we have real street cred!

b. We have a secret language, called Armenian. Okay its not a secret, but I guarantee, you know nary a word of it, only Armenians do.

2. We live in communities. For better or for worse. For example, the Armenian Quarter in Jerusalem has been occupied by Armenians since the 300s and some of the original families are still here! We have our own school, church, library and convent, which is a place where only Armenians can live. Wherever you find Armenians, you find A LOT of Armenians together. For example, LA in California stands for Little Armenia.

3. I never have to go to Armenia to be able to speak, eat, breathe Armenian. The first language here in this small sliver of this tiny corner of the world is Armenian, not Hebrew, Arabic or English despite the fact that there are only 1,000 of us here. Our Armenian-ness supersedes nationality and passpo.

4. I'm a baby and I already know what genocide means! Leave it to the Armenians.

P.S. I'm only one quarter Armenian and that = 100 percent in Armenian math. Don't worry, Italian relatives: half also equals 100 percent and my dueling taste buds remain undecided!


Here is a series of photos that further celebrates all things Armenian, namely living in community and spending all of our time in the same/only restaurant where we all hang out. Also, this being Easter, it is our unofficial annual reunion! Well, my first.

Meeting Steve for the first time!

Hanging out at Naro's with Steve and Katia!

More Naro's action. Hi Anjo!

The gang. Why are they all looking at the wrong camera?

Nice try Ohan. That is not Blue Steel!

You know you are in an Armenian house when your fridge is covered with Armenian magnets!

My future babysitters, Tantigs (aunts) Nairy and Shoghig.

She loves me!

A cool Armenian.

An Armenian Easter procession

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