>> From the Library of
Congress in Washington, DC. >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
I'm Carolyn Rupkafian, and I am delighted to be
interviewing Onnik Dinkjian and his son, Ara Dinkjian. And Onnik, I wondered
if we could start by you telling us a little
bit about your childhood. >> Onnik Dinkjian: Well, a
little bit about my childhood; obviously, I was born in
France, Armenian parents, and speaking Dinkjian
Agladikca's parents from Dikranagerd. So, that makes me a bonafide
Dinkjian Agladikca, per se. I was raised in France,
in Paris; young, at a very young age,
I lost my father when I was not quite
one year old. They had, of course, immigrated
from Diyabakir, Turkey, to France, and when
I was about 5 1/2, not quite 6 years
old, I lost my mother. Her name was Zora. As a matter of fact, one of
the songs that we made tonight that was, I dedicated
that song to her, which I wrote the lyrics. But that's not what it is. When I lost my mother,
then I was then raised by my godfather and godmother. In the Armenian tradition,
the godfather and godmother take
over the child. That was the rule, the Armenian
rule, religious rules and, sure enough, the fact that they
didn't have any children either, it made it like a
perfect occasion -- occasion might not be the
word -- but from that time on, I was raised with the Dinkjian,
and that's where my name is. Originally, from
my real parents, my name was Milleon
[phonetic], Mille yon. Grew up with them until 1946
when we came to America, right after the Second
World War. Very quickly, I started being
interested in singing, it seems. Going to Armenian school,
Armenian school on Thursdays because in France, we did not
have French school on Thursdays, like we don't have it here
on Saturdays here in America. So, naturally, I had to
go to Armenian school; that was the rule of the house,
and in the Armenian school, besides learning how to read,
write, and speak, and so on and so forth, music was
also part of the thing. You had to learn how to sing,
and I loved that part much more than I loved anything else. So, I would come home and kind
of repeat what I had learned, and that made the beginning
of my parents, the Dinkjian, [inaudible] and only
the Dinkjian sending me to Armenian Church to be part
of the choir, if you will. But at that time, being I
was maybe 7 or 8 years old, all I could do was just go and,
according to the choir masters, you had to just listen. It was very serious. So, for about two
years, regardless, I would take two subways. I liked the sound of the
Armenian choir in that church so much that I couldn't
wait for Sunday morning to take two subways
to go and just sit and watch the conductor,
the director. And after he saw that I was
interested, two years later, then I became then
Cusholds [phonetic], meaning on the altar
they give you this, we all know in Armenian, I don't
know how to say it in English, but anyway, to follow the choir,
you used to use that sound of the thing, and I thought that
I was already the biggest singer in the world without
even singing at all. But I was part of what was
the music and, lo and behold, Komatsumatsu [phonetic],
because I was interested, the choir master would give
me a little two-line solo, if you will, once in a while. Like before he would do that,
he would point that it's coming, you know, pointing to me. I would get all kinds of aches,
all kinds of things that, oh, I'm going to do this two
lines, and I would be scared, but I would do it all right,
and he would point out, okay, you know, you did it [phonetic]. That continued on, and that's
why I continued on singing until we came to America. That's another story after that. >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
Well, keep going. >> Onnik Dinkjian: I hope I'm
not talking, I hope I'm -- >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
No, that's what we want. Please, keep keep going. >> Well, then, coming
to America, of course, the first thing you do, the
first thing we did is to find where the closest
Armenian church was because I would not do
anything on Sundays except going to church; not because
of religious thing, not because I found God,
or not because of it, but because I liked the
sound of that choir. I thought that was beautiful. So, regardless of where
we were in Jersey City, as a matter of fact, in New
Jersey, made arrangements for my cousins to take me
to church the first time; taking the bus, or
whatever it was and so on. From there on, every
Sunday, I could, again, could not wait to go to church. By now, I'm a definite
choir member from, and I feel like Pavarotti
because I'm part of a choir. As luck would have it, the choir
master was Dinkjian Agladikca. Another little story because
the first time when I went to that church, and I was
greeted by the choir master, and he said, "Where
are you from?" So, the way he asked me
that question, that one word that he asked, I
heard right away that he was a Dinkjian Agladikca
child, you know, he himself. So, he says, "Are you
Dinkjian Agladikca?" We would normally in Armenian
say, [inaudible], you know, but the fact that I was grown
up by Dinkjian Agladikca family, I didn't say, [inaudible];
I said, "Ha," meaning yes, and that ha made the
bond with me being one of the singers in that church. And of course, after singing
a little here, a little there, one thing led to another. It was some kind of a Ladies
Auxiliary or a tea party or something, they would say,
"Oh, if that boy could come and sing," you know, "it
would be nice," and so on and so forth, and I knew a few, quite a few Armenian
songs from France already. So, I repeated that, and
that started, if you will, one thing led to
another and so on, and I started singing pretty
much here and there, weddings and dances and what
have you, and walla! And after that, it's
history, I guess; I don't know what else to say. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: So,
from the Ladies' Guild, the Women's Guild at the church, you were singing
these folk songs. >> Onnik Dinkjian: Yes. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Were
you singing by yourself? Did you have -- >> Onnik Dinkjian: Yes, at the
very beginning, just by myself; no accompaniment, no nothing. And I realized that, by now,
I'm listening to the radio, and we're talking 1946,
you know, and it's new, and I figured, oh,
I like that piano. Maybe I should, and I really
don't remember how it started, but there was an oud player,
a lute player in New Jersey, and somehow, again, from
Dinkjian Agladikca's family because in Union City at
that time the only Armenians that lived in Union City
were somehow their parents and grandparents were from
the Diyabakir [phonetic], meaning Dikranagerd,
and so was my family, and it became very natural. I was very comfortable
with these people, and this particular
guy was playing; so, this one time we got together,
and I thought I liked it, and before you know, we
added maybe a clarinet; before you know, at that time,
there was no guitars, you know. So, it was really a clarinet
and oud, and that progressed into some other things. I don't know any
more, but I think -- >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
so, you started playing at maybe picnics and dances? >> Onnik Dinkjian: Yeah. Yes, of course, at picnics. One little thing I remember very
well that made me very proud is that in Union City in
1948, or was it 1940; I think it was 1948, there was
a hall called the Armenian Hall. It was a place where all the
Armenians would throw dances, would throw [inaudible] and
dinners and what have you, and they had a mortgage,
naturally, and they were paying
every month, and this particular time
there was a big get-together, and they were going
to burn the mortgage. I don't know how
much that was left, but even though we had
just came from France, we, my parents decided we should
all go and contribute as little as we can because we had just
started to work, you know, coming to America, new
language, new country. So, we went, my sister and
I and my father and, by now, it's obviously my
father and mother. We went, and we sat among
a couple of hundred people, and they started
asking for money in order to burn the mortgage. And there was this one
gentleman; his name was Turpin, Turpin Geon [phonetic],
short for Turpin. He was a businessman. He was pretty successful
at that time. Somehow, he had probably heard that I was singing here
and there and so on. Among the -- without knowing my
name, and we were sitting in, we're pretty much in the back
of the thing, of the Hall, and he pointed out when it
came for him to give a donation and what have you, he pointed
to our table, and he said, "If that young boy," by
now, I'm 17 or 18 years old; "if that young boy will
sing a song or two," or whatever it was, "I will burn
the mortgage," meaning he'll pay for the rest of the mortgage. My father, sitting next
to me, gave me a big thing on the side and said, "Get up!" you know, elite [phonetic],
you know. By now, I swear to you,
I'm almost dying inside because I was the only
one pointing in that area, and especially when my
father says, "Get up!" you know. So, but you know,
whether I wanted or not, you listen to your
father; that's number one. And so, I got up, and I sang. Whatever I sang, that day was
one of the big day in my life because he wrote a check for
the remaining of the mortgage. Whether it was a smaller amount
left or a large amount left, but they gave him the
biggest standing ovation when he paid for that. And of course, I was so elated
that, you see, because you sang, we paid for the Armenian Hall. That was one of the
nice, big day in my life. I think that's enough
for me to tell you about. I took enough of your time. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: No. Of course, we want to
hear a little bit more. I heard that you played at
the New York World's Fair. Tell us about that. >> Onnik Dinkjian:
Oh, my goodness! Yeah. Well, that's
another thing. But that wasn't just I. It was part of our whole
group, and we were -- I was very fortunate
to be part of that. In the New York World's
Fair, not only I, but at that time my son
Ara, being a young boy, he also was part of it, and at that time he
wasn't playing the oud, but he played the
drummy [phonetic] from, the dunbaggie [phonetic]
from that thing. And we did a pretty nice job
at the New York World Fair. That's correct, yes. >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
Tell me more about the folk music
that you sing. Is it something that you,
you said you heard some of it growing up, but I also
think that you've added some of your own lyrics,
and different decades, I think you've had different
styles in your music. >> Onnik Dinkjian: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I do, as I said,
I grew up in Paris, France, from Dinkjian Agladikca parents,
both sides, from my real parents and my adopted parents. It seems that at one time
all our friends, friends, all our people that
were visiting us, or if we were visiting, they
were all Dinkjian Agladikca's, and at one time I thought
that all Armenians, you know, because we didn't not, not so
much associate, but the fact that they all came,
and you always, you get together, it seems. I thought that everyone
was Dinkjian Agladikca. Now, having said that, when
we used to have company, [inaudible] you know, after
the greetings, the coffee, and whatever it was, they
used to start singing, they themselves, our
parents and their friends. And the fact that I loved
hearing music, my job also, part of it, we had a
phonograph thing that my job was to wind the thing, you know. So, music was there, and all
the songs that they sang were from the Diyabakir [phonetic]. Naturally, some of them
just came about 15, 20, or 30 years ago, so
it was new to them. All those songs that I used
to, that I, many of the songs that I'm either doing now or
fixing them now and so on, where the root came
from that time. And they each, each one
of them had a story; each song had a story. It was something about
maybe a wedding, how do you, how did the people
prepare to go to a wedding, or especially the
[inaudible], the bath house. In the old country, you used to
go, according to what I hear, once a week to a bath house. In Turkish, the name
would have been hamam. That was the name
of the bath house, and there was always stories
about the bath house; some, funny; some, folklore,
and what have you. And as a matter of fact, on
one of them, which I copied, and I arranged the lyrics
to fix the music, was, if I'm not mistaken, Ara, we
did that one song tonight; the story about going
to the bath house. Says like, oh, today is
Saturday; it's time to go to the bath house, and
you go to the bath house with a futa [phonetic],
something you put around you. But I must say that the
bath house was a big, big enormous room,
and every five feet or six feet there would
be some kind of a sink which you would open
cold and hot water, and on the bench you would
sit in front of that and bath with some kind of a press,
you know, you put water. And I would go with, on
Saturdays, they would go until 6 o'clock, the ladies, and
after that the men used to go. I used to hear that. So, I arranged it, of course,
the first time when I went with my mother and the fact that
I was, I have always been short, and I was obviously, what,
7, 8 years old, I still went with my mother, if
you will, you know. So, after the bath, I would come
home, and then the men would go. Before the men went, my father
would say, "[Inaudible], my son, come, come here, I have
a question to ask you." So, I [inaudible], you
know, yes, what is it? He would say, "Did you see
any little birds there?" I said, "Bubba, there's no
birds in the bath house. Everything is, you know." So, and this is a true
story, I want you to know, and it is in the
lyrics in my song. I would say, "No, Bubba,
everything is closed there. It's indoor. There's no, there's no birds." He said, "[Inaudible] my son,
[inaudible], don't look up, look down a little bit." I know you guys are laughing,
but this is, this is true story. And of course, my mother
then right there would say, "[Inaudible], don't say
things like that to; he's a young boy, you know." "Oh, he's going to grow. He's going to know
this kind of thing." I think I loved it so much that
years later, and I'm talking about 40, 50 years later,
when I was doing a CD of Dinkjian again,
that came to my mind, and I arranged the lyrics to
fit that story, and that's one of the things where I
said, don't look up; look down for the
little bird, of course. And I keep on saying that my
mother said, "Close your eyes. Don't look there. [Inaudible], you
know, it's a shame. You shouldn't look there." And then, "from now
on, you're coming to this bath with your father." That's all in the lyrics. But that's part of
Diyabakir [phonetic]. This is what our ancestors came
from, and it was very normal. That's not something unusual. That was part of it which we act
right by putting it on the a CD like this to keep forever because after I think my
generation there aren't too many that are left with the
interest of the old dialect. We assimilate too fast and
too easy in a free country like we are, and thank
the Lord we are here. But I feel that I'm, yes, I'm
one of the ones that tried to keep as much as possible
the dialect, and this will stay in the Congress, in the
files here, which I'm, I guess I'm pretty happy
and, okay, I take -- >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Sing
us one line of the language so we can hear the
Dinkjian Agladikca words. Can you say something
or sing a line? >> Onnik Dinkjian:
I couldn't sing it. I would maybe say a few things
with the Dinkjian accent, you know, more than
singing, you know. For instance, [ Foreign Language Spoken ] >> Onnik Dinkjian: It's
completely different from, I won't say, pure Armenian
because, for instance, I just said [inaudible]. In Armenian, we would
say, oh, [inaudible]. It's completely, [inaudible]. Oh, [inaudible], you know. [ Foreign Language Spoken ] >> Onnik Dinkjian: That's all
Dinkjian Agladikca proper. If you are not, you probably
will not understand it as much. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Yeah. I only understood
a couple of words. >> Onnik Dinkjian: A
couple of words, right. But to us, it's the
normal saying, you know. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Thank you. It's great. Well, I'm going to come back to
you, but Ara, I want to ask you about growing up with
your father and music in the household, and
you must have heard music from the time you
were born, of course, and how did you come
to follow in music? >> Ara Dinkjian: Yeah. Before I answer your question,
I just need to get a couple of things on the record. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Sure. >> Ara Dinkjian: Based on what
my father has already told you, first of all, his father's name
was Garabet Milleon [phonetic]. The choir master in France
was Nishon Sequoin [phonetic], who was originally
from Istanbul, and the choir master is Dinkjian
Agladikca, blood brother that he met at 27th
Street Cathedral in New York was Arman
Babajanyan [phonetic]. These are three very important
men in my father's life story. I just wanted to
get that out there. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Yeah. >> Ara Dinkjian: And just
to continue the thought, my father is the most
important man in my life. Just as you described, I
grew up in a musical family. Music was just part of life,
and it was church on Sunday, and it was weddings, dances,
and picnics on Saturday, and during the week, when they
would have their friends over, it was members of
not only the choir, but they had back then
choruses, Armenian choruses, that they volunteered, went
to rehearsals every week and gave annual concerts. And they didn't use
babysitters back then, so they would take my sister
and I to these rehearsals and, without realizing
it, we were hearing and learning the foundation of
Armenian folk and liturgical and classical music just
because we were around them, and they were at
these rehearsals. So, yeah, how lucky am
I, you know, to have him. I mean, they never forced
it on me, but like him, I was just drawn to it. I don't think he chose it;
I don't think I chose it. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Mm-hmm. Did I hear once a story
that you learned more about your birth
parents and music? Was your mother a singer? >> Ara Dinkjian: It's
actually an astonishing story, and I thank you for
asking about it. As my father told
you, his father, his biological father
died when he was one, so he has no memory
of him whatsoever. We have one picture
of Garavet Milleon. He remembers almost nothing
about his mother other than she would sing lullabies
to him for him to fall asleep. And indeed, the first song that
he sang, he wrote of that memory of my mother singing lullabies
to me for me to sleep. That's all he remembers
of his mother. So, as anybody would feel,
any bit of information about your ancestors, especially
somebody as close as your mother or father, would be precious,
even if it was, well, your father wore a hat on an
angle, or your mother walked like this, or any bit of information would
be precious to us. We were doing a concert
in France. I was about 20 years old, so
he was maybe 35 or something like that, and an old lady
came up to my father and said, "I knew your biological parents. They were my friends." And we were like shocked. And she said, "Would you like
to come over for breakfast, and I'll tell you
whatever I remember?" Well, we canceled anything that we had the next
day, and we went there. And as is often the case,
I'm kind of stepping back because this is a big
moment for my father, but I'm getting to witness this. And she said to my father,
"Oh, your mother, Zora, had a beautiful voice. You had no money. Actually, the shack
they were living in, if I'm not mistaken,
had dirt floor." So, when we say poor,
the true meaning of poor. But her friends and
neighbors would come over and say, "Just sing. We'll make the coffee. You just sing." So, those songs are the thing in my father's head
and in his memory. So, that confirmed his
memory of his mother. It solidified his memory. Then, she said to him, "And
your father played the Oud." >> Onnik Dinkjian: Okay. >> Ara Dinkjian: Sorry. You know, I'm, sorry,
I'm born in America. I'm raised on the Beetles;
why am I playing the Oud? It's not going to get
you girls or money. I didn't know why. But that moment --
I'm so sorry -- it taught me that your identity,
your ancestors are in you. It doesn't matter
where you're born. If you follow what you feel,
there's a truth to that. I may have lived and died
and never known that bit of information, but it
solidified what I was feeling, and this is the lesson that
I've tried to teach my kids, don't question; if you
like that food or you think that girls I pretty, or you
want to do this for a living because it's what you feel,
you have to trust that. And that dear old lady
gave me the gift of my life because I never stopped
after that. >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
That's amazing. You must remember that time too? >> Onnik Dinkjian: Yes. Yes. I can't add much
more to this right now, but that's a true story. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Yeah. You've also been to Dikranagerd
in more recent years. Tell us a little bit more about
that, about playing or singing or just meeting people. >> Onnik Dinkjian:
I'm sure Ara will, will explain it much
more, but better than me. Go ahead, Ara. >> Ara Dinkjian: Well,
here's the story. My dad makes -- I need
a tissue; I'm sorry. If anybody has a tissue. I'm sorry. Oh, you have something, dad? >> Onnik Dinkjian: I do. >> Ara Dinkjian: Thank you. I got it. Thank you. Thank you. Okay. Okay. So, my dad makes
recordings here, and the amazing thing is you
have no idea what happens with those recordings, how far
they travel, who they reach. We're making recordings
in New Jersey. There's no distribution. There's no big record companies. We're making them on our own. Those recordings, and then the
cassette copy, and then a copy of a copy, it goes
all over the world. And it went as far as Turkey,
and they discovered like a, what they thought was
an extinct dinosaur; there is Armenian
Dikranagerd dialect songs that are still being performed. They had no idea about
that, and I'm talking about the Armenian
community as well as the Turks and Kurds there. And there was a cassette
that they have; they have told us this, that
it just said, the Arabacue; they wrote on it because
they heard the music, and that's how they
identified it correctly, not even knowing the name
of the singer or who is it and when is it, and that copy
was made hundreds of times. This is what we were told. When they discovered that not
only that's this guy in America, but that he's still alive,
and he's still singing, they immediately reached out
to us and said, "Would you come to Dikranagerd and dramatically
bring the songs that have been in exile back to
where they were born?" I mean, that, that's
pretty heavy. I don't know; I mean, he did it. He did it. He sang Heva Hila [phonetic]
in front of 3,000 people in Dikranagerd, none
of whom are Armenian, none of whom understood one word
but knew and felt the melody. >> Onnik Dinkjian:
Yeah, they connected. >> Ara Dinkjian: They know
that melody because it's sung in several languages, but
my father, by being there and singing it authentically, was in essence saying,
we were here. That was something to witness. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: You
were also talking earlier about how amazing it is to be
in America and having this music and other parts of
our culture survive because people intentionally
try to keep it. Can you talk a little
bit more about that? >> Ara Dinkjian: Yeah. I think people who
have emigrated from other countries have a
sense of what this country is about more than, let's say, those of us like myself
who were born here. My parents have made me
appreciate my country even more than others, and specifically, I
think I was mentioning it to you that each of these
villages or cities in the old country
had their one dance. But as a result of the genocide
in 1915, as the survivors and witnesses started
to emigrate, you know, the path was something like
Syria, Beirut, France, America. You know, many of
them took that route. They started to gather at
various pockets of America, mostly the Northeast to begin
with, and they had with them, of course, their dialect. And Dikranagerd is
not the only dialect. Each one of them had
their dialect, of course, and their dance, and their
way of preparing the food, and their way of dressing,
and they retained that. But what happened is in
this country is they started to learn all of those
dialects and dances together because that's, they gathered
together at dances and weddings and for the first time started
learning each other's dance. And it wasn't until Armenians
and Turks from Turkey came to visit a dance that we
gave, they're the ones who shined the light
on the dramatic event that was taking place. This is the only place in the
world where in one evening, you can see 15 different
folk dances, and everybody knows them, no matter where they're
ancestors are from. So, in essence, and I
said it on stage today, people like my father and the
immigrants inadvertently kept alive their culture because they
were welcomed by this country. You're free to go to your church
or to speak your language, or what have you, and
they kept it alive. I know my father and his likes
never did it with any intention, and just now, I'm glad my
father has lived long enough to have people tell him, do
you realize what you did? And he's just now
starting to say, "Wow! Wow! I didn't realize it." >> Onnik Dinkjian: That's right. >> Ara Dinkjian: I'm
glad you're realizing it. >> Onnik Dinkjian:
You're right, Ara. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Yeah. Well, Onnik, I'm going
to turn back to you. >> Onnik Dinkjian: Go ahead. >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
You've inspired, I think, a lot of Armenian music
in this country at least, and you've certainly
taught Ara the music and probably other
people as well. I wondered what you
hope for the future of this music, our culture. Tell me what you're thinking
about and hoping for. >> Onnik Dinkjian: What do
I think and what do I hope? As a matter of fact,
today, after the concert, when we were visiting with
some people that were, they were congratulating us
and so on, it was at least two or three families with
little children, you know, some 7, 8, 10 years old. I don't know if you -- >> Ara Dinkjian:
Yeah, I saw them. >> Onnik Dinkjian: You
saw all that a lot. >> Ara Dinkjian: Yeah. >> Onnik Dinkjian: And they,
what I liked very much is that two or three of them
had the CD in their hand, and with their eyes wide open,
"Can you sign, can you sign?" And one of them, the youngest
one, I know, "I hear your songs. I like your songs." I hear -- like that's
the future. If I unknowingly did what I
thought that what I was doing is because I liked it,
without knowing that I was influencing some
people that have young ones like that and through music,
through CDs, through cassettes and what have you, playing it in
their homes, made some interest to those little ones;
I'm 89 years old. I don't know how long will I
be alive, but it seems to me that if I made some little
ones interested enough, I think I accomplished
through music, through music, a
little side story. Speaking of little ones like
this, I knew this family from Providence, Rhode Island. They had this little boy. I didn't notice, but my
granddaughter, Ariv, said, "There is a little boy in
Providence, Rhode Island, that loves to play
the dimbag [phonetic], the drum, the Armenian drum." And my granddaughter says,
"If you have an extra one, I'd like to give, you
know, to this boy." As a matter of fact, we all
have extra musical instruments, and so I gave it to my
granddaughter, which in turn, she gave it to this little boy. So, about a year or so after,
I was engaged to do some, a concert, or whatever
it was, in Providence. Wouldn't you know that
this husband and wife and this little boy came
without me knowing about them. So, after the concert,
they came behind the stage with this little boy, and
they introduced themselves, and they said, "I want you
to know that this is my son, and he's the one that you gave
the thing, the dimbag to." Oh, I [inaudible] the last,
you know, "You liked it?" "Yeah, I love it," and he's
looking wide-eyed like this, and like; so, I said,
"Well, do you play it?" you know. He says, "No. No." Because I had signed it. I had autographed it,
you know, on the skin. He said, "No." I said, "I don't understand." [Inaudible] you know, play." He said, "No, I don't
want the name to be -- " You asked me what's
the future? If I did a little thing like
that to, through music, not me, through the sound that they
must have liked and enjoyed, I accomplished what I think
that I, unknowingly, was doing. >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Yeah. That's wonderful. >> Onnik Dinkjian: Yeah. Walla! >> Carolyn Rupkafian: Well,
before we finish today, I just want to ask are there any
stories that you want to tell that I didn't ask you
about, or any other things that you'd like to say? >> Ara Dinkjian: There's
a million and one stories, but I just want to say that
you have to take your hat off to the Library of Congress for
recognizing the value of people like my father and this dialect. And by the way, I don't
understand the dialect. In the house, they did not,
he did not speak that dialect because my mother is
not Dinkjian Agladikca. She's [inaudible] Agladikca. So, he would only
speak that when he was with his fellow Dinkjian
Agladikca's and -- >> Onnik Dinkjian:
With my sister. >> Ara Dinkjian: I know
it's a very animated and exaggerated kind of thing,
and like you, I got maybe 10, or 15, 20% at the most; so,
I don't even understand it. But the Library of
Congress has, apparently, recognized the danger
of extinction, and to document my father
singing these songs, speaking this dialect, and for
that, we are eternally grateful. >> Carolyn Rupkafian:
Well, thank you. Thank you both very
much, and thank you to the Library as well. >> Ara Dinkjian: Thank you. >> This has been a presentation
of the Library of Congress. Visit us at www.loc.gov.
