Being half Armenian, I loved William Soroyan’s stories, though sometimes I think that his family has nothing on ours. Spending a weekend in Fresno, from which my family comes, made me think of a story about which my aunt reminded me when I visited before the holidays. I plan on sharing some others from time to time.
My grandparents moved from Detroit to Fresno because my father had respiratory problems; the cure back then was not Claritin or Benadryl, but to “move to Arizona or California.” The family already had cousins in Fresno, and the city of Detroit bought the family’s Hamilton Avenue house at a nice price to build a freeway. So Fresno it was, so that my father could breathe.
The Kayes moved to Jensen and Cedar in Calwa, a rough community south of Fresno, now just off of CA-41. Calwa was not a great place to grow up. But my grandparents could make a decent living by opening a grocery store, adjacent to the house they had bought for the family.
Crime was a problem even then. One day, a customer walked in and asked for a pound of a bologna. My grandfather, who was probably in his 70s by then, turned around to slice the meat. The man put a gun to my grandfather’s head and demanded all the cash in the drawer.
To which my grandfather responded by grabbing a huge knife, turned and put the tip on the ruffian’s neck, and growled, “You son of a bitch, get the hell out of my store!”
The man turned around and indeed, ran the hell out of Kaye’s Market, which was probably the best decision he made that day.
Later that evening, a local radio station called my grandparents to ask how my grandfather was doing. My aunt answered and said, “
Oh he’s just fine and resting now.”
The next day, the radio station featured the bungled robbery attempt at Kaye’s Market, with the announcer bellowing that . . . “
and after the incident, Mr. Kaye was still in quite a state of shock!”
“I learned then,” my aunt told me, “that I could never trust the media.”
Wise words indeed. Though I hope you believe what I share on this site.
LK/GGP
[...] and economic capital. The frescoes recall an era when immigrants form around the world, including my grandfather, could leave their countries where they were no longer wanted and start a new life and renewed [...]