On behalf of the family, thank you all for taking the time to come to this memorial service for my Father. He loved his friends almost as much as he loved his family. Harry, or Haratoun, as he was known behind the tavloo board and pinochle table, was the quintessential family man. He loved his wife. He loved his family. He was the boss; he was the chief. Everyone depended on him. Most younger people feared him as he put on a great "tough guy" act - a generational thing. Those of us that truly knew him recognized his insides averaged about 150% mush. He would never let on but behind the tough exterior he was a soft, warm, and gentle human being. I always respected him because of two everlasting and significant personal traits - his legacy of honesty and his sense of humor.

In the early days, he would drive from Astoria to Poughkeepsie to work as a printer and would visit with the Norians, sometimes staying overnight. He always talked and smiled about the ice cream treats he would bring "the Norian kids". For many years Dad worked two, sometimes three jobs to support his family and he never complained. He was nearly killed in a car accident when we were very young working on this extreme schedule. There was a three-year period that I didn't even know who that guy was - asleep in the den with a nearly finished Ballantine beer next to him on that classic 50s metal flower-print tray table.

In his free time, Dad was an avid reader. He had a lifetime subscription to the TV guide. Growing up, we seldom went on any extended vacations as a family because there was never any money to go anywhere. Dad's idea of an extended vacation was a ten-days in a row of driving to Rockaway beach to be with the Armenians. Carol and I would pray for rain. I remember a few drives into the Catskills and a trip to Freedomland, but Dad's basic happiness was always at home, with his family around him.

He was supportive of my education from the earliest days. I can remember coming home from grade school with a 97 on a science test (I never showed him the 40s and 50s in social science). He would look at the test score, turn to me and say, sternly - "Idiot! What happened to the other three points!" He loved his brother Warren and was never the same after he died last year. It was as if a piece of him had been ripped out and torn asunder. He always talked about their like-long friendship and their bike store. Dad first taught me how to work with my hands fixing things, first on bikes, then on cars.

He was always proud of his military service although never talked too much about combat he did mention flights in a B-17. We figured he had experienced prolonged mortal combat and didn't want to discuss it. Come to find out last night, as I was looking through his military discharge papers, that he was a military typist in the southeastern US - although he took a plane ride in a B-17 to rest up in South America once and was party to a photo mission or two.

He was big on "tipping" to be a big shot. I can remember him tipping the milkman to bring the milk 15 minutes earlier when I was young. He loved talking about his tipping and his connections. Oh, the connections! The favors! He could get anything done, and always for a few bucks less. He continued this lifestyle till the very end. His burial instructions on a slip of paper were: Give Joe Hueberger a call when I die. He's a good buddy of mine from the Knights of Columbus and his brother knows someone who once worked for a guy that has a solid connection through a relative to get me into the military section of Pinelawn. He knew he could get into the military section there for no cost because of his "combat" record. Apparently, a typewriter had ambushed him after lunch one day in Kentucky.

He was a unique and perfect funny blend of Sergeant Bilko, Jack E. Leonard, Ralph Kramden, Rodney Dangerfield, and Archie Bunker. Never wanted to be bothered too much and was very comfortable in his own home. He used to visit Carol and I and he would be looking at his watch to see what time it was as he was walking up the path.

There's a James Brown song that emphasizes the importance of the "man in the glass". The idea that if you could look the man in the glass (the mirror) straight in the eye, that you had done all right with yourself. Harry would always look you in the eye when he spoke and stare you down when you answered his call. He stressed the importance of hard work, respect, honesty, loyalty, and trust. And, he always came through for everyone. We had a love/hate relationship at times and until very recently, I felt he never truly understood what I did for a living because I didn't "work" according to his definition. To Dad, it was "Oh, he does something with rocks but I know he gets on TV a lot". I say, Dad, thanks for the support of knowing you were behind us all in everything we did. It always took a lot of pressure off of life itself. Much of our success as individuals and as a family was generated from that position of proud strength. He died proud of his wife, his children, their spouses, and his grandkids. As Roger Norian, who phoned from Massachusetts this morning put it, "Harry, thanks for the memories". I think I speak for everyone when I say, "We always loved you Dad and will always carry you in our minds and in our hearts". We are happy because we know that Harry and Warren are together once again, fixin' bikes in heaven.

Written and Presented by: Charles Merguerian