A Voyage of Promise
A lot of this is true; the rest of it could have been.
I'll be away from my desk for the next several days, but in the meantime, I’ve queued up a few of your favorite posts to keep things going. Whether you're reading them for the first time or coming back for another look, I hope they hold up—and maybe even hit a little differently the second time around.ACT ONE: Beirut, 1953
The air in Beirut was thick with the scent of cardamom and sea salt, a lively blend of the old city’s markets and its bustling port. The Rubyan family stood amid it all, their modest belongings packed neatly into a few battered suitcases. Seven-year-old Vartkan clutched his father’s hand, his wide eyes scanning the horizon where the Greek tramp steamer Prometheus loomed. His younger sister Ruby clung to their mother, Arsha-Louise, while baby Ara nestled quietly in his grandmother Maryam’s arms.
Puzant Rubyan, a newly minted Doctor of Divinity from the American University of Beirut, surveyed the scene with hope and trepidation. He had secured a position with a church in Philadelphia, a city he only knew from letters and books. The political unrest in Lebanon had left him and Arsha-Louise with little choice but to seek a future elsewhere. Yet, as Maryam cradled Ara and whispered prayers, the reality of their departure settled heavily on Puzant’s shoulders.
“It is not just a journey,” Puzant told his wife the night before. “It is leaving behind everything we know. Everything we are.”
Arsha-Louise had nodded, her face shadowed with doubt. But she replied firmly, “And for everything we leave, there is something to gain for our children. We cannot let fear hold us back.”
As the steamer’s whistle pierced the air, their extended family gathered for final goodbyes. Tears flowed freely, and Maryam’s grip on Ara tightened. For her, this departure was a heartbreak she would carry to her grave. For the rest of the Rubyans, it was a leap into the unknown.
ACT TWO: The Voyage
The Prometheus was no luxury liner. Its rust-streaked hull groaned with every wave, and the cramped quarters were suffused with the mingling odors of oil, brine, and unwashed humanity. Yet, within these confines, life began to take on a strange rhythm.
One evening, as a moonless storm raged, Puzant carried Ara in his bassinet up to the open deck for fresh air. The ship pitched violently, sending saltwater cascading across the planks. Clutching the bassinet with white-knuckled hands, Puzant narrowly avoided disaster as a rogue wave slammed into the railing. His heart pounded as he rushed back inside, vowing never to risk such a moment again. Yet the ordeal sparked something in Vartkan, who began spinning tales of heroic sea captains and daring rescues to distract his younger sister, Ruby, from the storm.
“The sea’s just testing us,” Vartkan grinned. “We’ll pass. We’re stronger than any wave.”
Arsha-Louise, meanwhile, found herself in an unexpected cultural standoff. While attempting to request extra bread from the ship’s gruff Greek cook, her halting Greek unintentionally insulted his cooking. The resulting tension was defused only when Arsha-Louise offered to prepare an Armenian dish for the crew. Her spiced lamb and rice meal won over the cook, leading to an unlikely friendship and a nightly cultural exchange of recipes.
Passengers organized an impromptu talent show to combat the monotony of endless days at sea. Ruby, ordinarily shy, surprised everyone by singing a hauntingly beautiful Armenian folk song. Her clear and unwavering voice captivated the room and brought tears to more than a few of the crew’s eyes. The evening became a celebration of shared humanity, with songs, dances, and stories bridging language barriers.
One afternoon, a pod of whales appeared alongside the ship. Passengers crowded the rails, marveling at the creatures’ size and grace. For a moment, their worries melted away, replaced by awe. Puzant, holding Ara close, whispered, “Even the sea has its wonders. We must remember to see them.”
ACT THREE: Arrival in America
Weeks later, the Prometheus sailed up the Delaware River. The Rubyans’ first glimpse of Philadelphia was not the glittering land of dreams they had imagined but a bustling port teeming with activity. Uniformed immigration officers inspected their papers, their stern faces softening as they spoke kindly to Puzant and Arsha-Louise.
As they stepped onto American soil, the family’s exhaustion was tempered by a sense of accomplishment. The next morning, Puzant led them to Independence Hall, a few blocks from their new home. Standing beneath its historic facade, he spoke to his children about freedom and the sacrifices required to achieve it.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the illuminated building, “is what we’ve journeyed for. To write our own story. To give you the chance to dream without fear.”
Vartkan listened intently, his young mind already forming plans for the future. Inspired by her moment in the talent show, Ruby resolved to find her voice in this new world. Arsha-Louise, holding baby Ara, felt a flicker of hope despite her homesickness.
The family’s journey had ended, but their story was beginning. And as they stood together under the shadow of Independence Hall, they knew that every wave and hardship had been worth it.
