Who are we? Where do we come from? What does it mean to be part of a community? I’m now 40-years-old and well into my life with two kids, now two step-kids, a war veteran, a widower, now starting my second marriage and I still ask these questions of myself. I’ve grown even more curious about who I came from. I’m a six-foot-two, protestant-raised, anglo-saxon white guy raised in the 80s/90s San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles with the last name Ham but I am also third generation Armenian. I have not been one to identify as an Armenian throughout my life; I didn’t grow up with Armenians, I don’t speak the language, my last name doesn’t end with an “ian” or “yan” and I’ve lived very much outside the culture. I think the story that has kept me curious and tied me to my lineage the most is that of my great-grandmother Adrian Gurganian.
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