Happy 99th Birthday Uncle Marty!!!

Happy Birthday to a wonderful man - Marty Kaprelian!

Uncle Marty Celebrates his 99th birthday today!  Can you believe it?!  We are so lucky to have him in our lives, he's a true treasure.  Having never met either of my grandfathers, I consider myself blessed to have had the chance to develop such a wonderful relationship with Uncle Marty (he's really my great uncle - in all senses of the word).  Uncle Marty has lived through many many things in his lifetime, I cannot even imagine what it must be like to have experienced so much change! 


He was born in the back of a shoemaker's shop...and has seen the world through industrialization, war, peace, prosperity, depression, technology and so much more.  A man who once as a kid sold newspapers on the street corners in Chicago, who acted in community plays in Milwaukee, who made gin in his bathtub during prohibition, who served in the United States Navy and countless other amazing things.  I wish I could write an elegant snapshot of his life thus far, but Uncle Marty leaves me practically speechless. 


What can we say, except for maybe "Hip Hip Hooray!  Happy Birthday Uncle Marty!!!"


Some more photos from his family birthday celebration this past Saturday:

Happy 98th Birthday Uncle Marty!

Happy 98th Birthday to my Great Uncle Marty! What a guy...I only wish I could see him on a weekly basis again. This distance between us isn't fair! I'm looking forward to our next visit with him in November...

Snapshots from the Past - Backgammon

Sometimes I find it hard to really take good pics this time of year - it's really busy at work for me, and the fact that it's still dark so early makes the part of the year a bit uninspiring. Okay, the days are getting a little longer as each one passes, and we have snow coming on Saturday...so maybe I can get some good pics from that. But for right now, I have nothing!

So I decided to pull a snapshot from the past. Here is a photo of my grandmother and I playing backgammon on one of her visits to Wisconsin. I always look forward to getting a set or two of backgammon in with her. I am a pretty fair player, so for the most part I can compete well against her, but there are times that she can really put me to shame! I do recall a visit I made to her in Florida where for the first three days she beat me at every game, all of them! I was finally able to adjust my playing style to have a shot against her, and we had a great time.

I can even remember, quite distinctly, playing a game or two of backgammon with her when I was six years old...sitting at the dining table at our house on Old Middleton Road. I don't know how it was possibly for her to play against a six year old, who barely knew how to play, but I can credit her for being one of my first teachers.

Backgammon has a long history with my family. Both my mom and dad play(ed), my grandma on my mom's side (pictured above), my grandpa on my dad's side (pictured playing with my dad), and my uncle Marty (pictured below), as well as countless other aunts and uncles, and great grandparents I never knew...


My dad and my grandfather playing, circa 1977 I believe. This is the board I now play with - my dad gave it to me in 2007, and I cherish every clack of the dice and pieces against the old wooden board.


Dad and I playing a game out at the Union Terrace in Madison. Probably the best place to play a game in the summer...


A previously posted photo of Uncle Marty and I playing a set. I owe him most for teaching me practically everything I know about the game.

Ninety Seven Years?!

Today my great Uncle Marty celebrates his 97th birthday! For most of the time that I was growing up he lived in California, but around the time I was in High school he moved back to Wisconsin - and since then I have really been able to enjoy getting to know my great uncle (my paternal grandmother's brother). He's the closest thing I have ever had to a grandfather, and I am lucky to have such a relationship with him!

When I lived in Madison, after graduating from college, I would go visit him to listen to his stories, play backgammon and enjoy his company. The last time Felipe and I were in Madison I recorded one of our conversations...I've transcribed it here...and will try to do more in the future.

I had wonderful parents. I can never figure out, my father was a shoemaker. But he would take me around wherever he went, in Chicago there were two huge Armenian carpet dealers in the loop. They were huge, we’d walk in there and they’d take my father in the office and they’d sit and talk for hours. I’d sit there and I don’t know what they’re talking about, they’re talking Armenian, I don’t understand Armenian. I never thought anything about it. I’m just a kid. We go to the ice cream factory and the same thing – they go in and talk and I would get a nice big plate of ice cream. I would listen to them talk and I don’t know what they’re talking about. No matter where he went people treated my father like somebody special. He never indicated, he never showed any indication, never talked about his past. I get a hunch he was raised by the Armenian Church. He could speak French, he came here able to read English and speak English. He was bright.

I was born behind the shoemakers shop, a little later we moved to another street, he moved to a bigger shop and we had an apartment not directly above but almost next door. He had the shop there and all I remember about that is I remember a kitchen; I remember a bedroom and a living room. I remember the 1918 Flu, everyone was sick but me, I’m a kid I walk around and everyone is on the floor. I’m walking around and I’m not sick.

And then from there my father opened a shop at Wieboldt's, the dept store in Chicago. He rented the space and he did so well the company took over the space and made him the manager of the shop. Which didn’t make him too happy but he did it for a while, but then he left and got a partner. Got a great, a nice – was a, it had everything, shoe shining, hat cleaning, clothes pressing, everything, the whole ball of wax in the loop, off the major drags. (Do you remember where exactly that was?) Michigan boulevard and State street – between those two streets they had this shop. At that time, the only time I would see him was on the weekends. He’d leave before I got up and come home after I went to bed. He worked himself to death. He got sick. He had to leave and his partner took the whole thing. He took it all and wouldn’t give us a dime.

We moved to Milwaukee then and he worked with his brother. After a year, there was something wrong. His brother also had hired a cousin who was a drinker and a gambler, which didn’t fit my father’s ethics at all, so they got in big squabbles and they had a fight one time and I was there and I was grabbing my father’s legs because I didn’t want him to get hurt. And then we moved back to Chicago, but it wasn’t long before my father went back. But we stayed, my mother and sisters and I stayed in Chicago a year and then we went back to Milwaukee.

One problem that caused was, I was a good athlete, I was good at almost all the sports. And I mean I was good, I wasn’t moderately good, I was good. And I was never eligible until my senior year, second semester. And I went out for the football team and the coach said, “I don’t care how good you are, you’re not going to make the team, I’m building for next year”. I was good at football and I was good at track, and I was good at baseball. (What did you like best?) I played more ball than I did anything else. I was quick. Not necessarily, I ran a great 100-yard dash, a good 200-yard dash, 400 was beyond my limit. So I was quick more than I was fast. I ran, I went out to practice with the track team, and when they had the city meet. And I ran and did a high jump that was better than the city champs and I ran a better 100 yard dash than the city champs, but still couldn’t compete. In a way it would probably have paid for my education if I were able to do that.

The year I graduated from high school my father went into the sanitarium for TB and I had to go to work. He left before, they didn’t discharge him, but he left on his own recognizance. I’m sure because he wanted me to go to school. Inside of a year he was back in the hospital. I used to take the train, not the train, the streetcar – it was way out on the Westside, we lived on the east side. The sanitarium was way on the west side and it took a long time to get there. And they would be in the open; in those days they kept them in the open air – even when it was below zero, because that’s what they thought it was necessary. Later on it wasn’t the case. That’s what I remember.

Last Vacation Post...

Felipe and I spent a lovely afternoon with my great uncle Marty. Uncle Marty is my paternal grandmother's brother, and the closest I will ever have to a grandfather. He lived for most of my lifetime in California, but several years ago moved back to Midwest. Since then we've been able to enjoy spending a good deal of time together. After graduating from college, I spent seven months living in Madison before I moved to New York City. During that time I saw Uncle Marty about every week, we would chat and play backgammon.

I've played backgammon since I was about six, more realistically since about the age of 12, and learned it mostly from my dad. It was Uncle Marty though that really helped me refine my backgammon skills. I remember the first time I played a set against Uncle Marty, it was before he moved to Madison and was during one of his visits for the family picnic. He beat the pants off of me! I couldn't win a game against him.

At this point, I can hold my own against him, and can even win a set or two! And although we don't get to play weekly any more, we do still enjoy a game or two when I come back to visit. This set...he beat me, two to one. Uncle Marty will be turning 97 years old this August, and by his report - the doctor says he's got the liveliness and health of a 70 year-old!