Floor Statements

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire Henry Morgenthau documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories (submitted by Shirley Collins):

My name is Shirley Kalashian-Collins. I was born in 1951 to

Armenian parents. My mother was born in Aintab, Turkey, in

1920 in the midst of the genocide of Armenians. My mother and

my grandparents narrowly made it out alive and found refuge

in the U.S. My paternal grandmother also had a harrowing

story. Due to the threat against the Armenians she was

shipped to the U.S. at 15 years old to marry an Armenian,

only to find out a few years later that her parents were

killed and her younger sisters kidnapped. My mother tried

hard to put all these stories down on paper so the world

would know what happened to our families. After she passed

away, I attempted to finish her project. After nearly 10

years and hundreds of hours of work, I put the story

together.

Now I want to thank our Rep. Adam Schiff for his efforts to

put these stories that are left untold in the Congressional

Record. I know my mother, if she were alive, would be dancing

up and down with joy. You can't imagine how exciting this is

for me after all the years of work to make sure these stories

are kept alive and heard so that history will be recorded

accurately. Thank you Rep. Schiff. This is such a wonderful

and amazing idea.

This is the story of my Grandmother, Horipsema ``Helen''

Meneshian, as told by my mother, Azadohi Kalashian:

My mother was a remarkable woman. She was born in Aintab in

1895. She was the only daughter of five children born to

Soghmon and Khanoom Meneshian.

In 1914 she married Armen Guleserian. They had a big and

fashionable wedding party that lasted for three days. Their

first child was a beautiful and bright little girl who gave

them much joy. This child was not quite two years old when

the Turkish government sent orders to have the Turkish army

go around and evacuate everyone in Aintab from their homes.

Only whatever could be placed on a donkey's back was

allowed to be removed from the house. Then the Turkish

soldiers sealed all the doors, windows and locks of our

house. We were all ordered to march in the direction of the

Syrian Desert.

My mother's trousseau of finest lace, satin and silk was

not meant to be enjoyed by her. One by one, each article was

sold for the price of something to eat. Her gold coins,

chains and rings also went the same way. Eventually, hunger

became unbearable, and death took its grim toll. One by one,

God called their first born, then their second born, then

their third born to be by HIS side. They were never to feel

hunger again!

Armen had been sent off to the military and Hripsema had

been left alone in Damascas. She tried to reach her father

but they would not let her travel because she was Armenian.

So, she found someone to travel with to go to Hama where her

relative, Kevork, was. In an interview with daughter, Azad,

in 1979 she says:

Everybody got off when we were near Hama. I was the only

one left. They gave me to a woman who had donkeys and this

woman took me to Hama on a donkey. We had nothing. I had the

child in my arms and the child's necessities tied on my back.

We came by a cemetery and the woman said, ``I will not go in

here.'' She took me off of the donkey. She said, ``I will be

afraid to be in a cemetery. You do whatever you will.''

I went in by myself, I found a shop. I asked the man in the

shop, ``There is the Baronyan family living here, do you know

them?'' He said, ``Yes, they went to Haleppo.'' I said,

``There is Kevork Guleserian here.'' He said, ``Yes, they are

here but their place is very far.'' Then they locked the

door.

The child wanted some water, I gave him some water and I

went and sat by the store. And it got dark, it was evening.

Then I saw my father-in-law's grandson, he later said that he

would never walk the way I was sitting at, he would always go

the other way. I lifted my head and saw him. I was looking

for them. He got very surprised and asked what happened and I

told him everything. He took me, the child was in my arms, he

took the load I was carrying and took me to their home.

He knocked on the door; they opened the door, a month, or a

month and a half. Papa's brother's wife was there. She was

Guleserian as well. In about a month the child who was in my

arms died. I was devastated. Then papa came and asked,

``Where is the boy?'' I said, ``May your soul live, you'll

have another one.'' He was such a nice boy. They had asked to

have him, ``Give him to us, we'll raise him up'' in Damascus.

I would not. How can you give your own child?

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, Henry Morgenthau, documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories (story submitted by Scott Tejerian):

My grandfather, Kevork ``George'' Hakalmazian, lost his

family in the genocide somewhere around age seven. His father

was forced to give my grandpa's sister in marriage to the

Turkish mayor of their town, Peri. My grandpa never saw his

sister again. Shortly after, when my Grandpa's father,

Sarkis, was reading the Bible one afternoon in front of their

house, Turkish soldiers took him and my grandpa's mother,

Oghapar, away. My grandfather never saw them again. My

grandpa and the other children of the village, including his

older brother Hagop, were rounded up by the soldiers and

taken to the nearby river. At the river they were separated

by size. My grandpa's nephew, the son of his eldest brother

who was already living in the USA, was separated in the group

of smaller children away from my grandpa and his brother,

Hagop. The smaller children were thrown into the river to

drown, except my grandpa's nephew knew how to swim. When the

Turkish soldiers saw him swimming, they shot him dead in the

water. For the next few years, my grandpa and Hagop were

forced to work for a Turkish farm owner. They were his

slaves. Eventually, my grandpa and Hagop were rescued by an

older cousin, Marderos, who helped them escape to an

orphanage in Lebanon. It was there that their eldest brother,

Martin, who was living in Chicago at the time, found them and

sent for them to come to America. My grandfather arrived in

Ellis Island on July 4, 1923. He didn't know his birthday, so

for every year after that his birthday was July 4th.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, Henry Morgenthau, documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories: (translated by the son and daughter of Bedros Vartan Yessaian--Hovhannes Yessaian and Dench Bedros Yessaian, respectively--a survivor of the Armenian Genocide.)

This is the true story in every detail that has been told

to me and my sister by my father.----Hovhannes Yessaian.

Bedros Vartan Yessaian: A Survivor's Story

My name is Bedros Vartan Yessaian. I was born in 1904 in a

village called (Kinjilar), which is not far from Izmit and

Istanbul, and had about 2,500 inhabitants, most of which were

Armenians. My father is Vartan and my mother is Denchali. We

were four brothers, Antranig (born 1989), Ohannes (born 1901)

Bedros (born 1904) and Jirair (born 1907). My mother had two

brothers, Minas and Hagop.

It was in the summer of 1915 that the Ottoman government

gave orders that all Armenian males aged 18-45 go to the

military service, while the rest of the family was to be

deported. My father went to the military but actually was

working as a day laborer cutting stones to pave roads.

So I accompanied my mother and two brothers, Antranig and

Jirair, in deportation. My other brother, Ohannes, and two

uncles were at that time in Istanbul and escaped deportation.

In few days time we gathered what we could carry and took the

train to a city called Konya. From there we walked all the

way to Derzor, sometimes hiring horse or oxen driven carts,

if we could fine one.

Later we learned a pregnant woman of our village had

childbirth at the departure time and was obliged to throw her

newborn child into the nearby Sakaria River. She was the

young wife of Janig Belalian.

On our way we came across Armenian soldiers working as

stone cutters and paving the road for the Berlin Baghdad

railway project. My father was one of them, and was able to

escape his group and joined us in the death march.

Somehow we managed our way until Aleppo in Syria. On the

way many died of starvation, thirst and hunger besides the

cruel treatment of the police and gendarmes. After that the

march was horrible in the desert, especially for who live in

colder climate.

Although the Euphrates River was nearby, we were forced to

march far from it, as some would die of thirst and

exhaustion. Sometimes we march in endless circles ending in

the afternoon at same place we started in the morning.

We marched on foot from Aleppo to Meskena, Rakka Derzor and

Shaddadiya. My younger brother, Jirair, died of starvation

and hunger. We continued our march without knowing our final

destination. On a rainy day and still under the tents, my

father asked my brother, Antranig, to buy a cup of tea from

the street vendor. My brother said he has no money. Father

pulled the bed sheet over his head and few hours later we

found him dead.

Few weeks later my mother died. Neighbors came consoling me

and wishing them a peaceful death. In the morning the

collector came and took her body. All who had died were

stripped of their clothes and their bare bodies were thrown

into a large ditch.

The more we marched the more the police and gendarmes grew

cruel. They beat, tortured, raped and killed innocent and

unarmed people. In a neighboring caravan two young beautiful

girls threw themselves into the Euphrates River preferring

death to rape. Raping became more regular and even pregnant

women were not spared. the gendarmes gambled on the gender of

the unborn child by cutting the woman's abdomen by sword

letting the woman die in her blood.

The Arab Nomads who live in the Syrian Desert used to come

to our tents asking us to live with them instead of sure

death. Thousands of Armenians were thus saved. I saw no hope

and informed my brother that I was going to live with the

Arabs. My brother stayed with the caravan and later I learned

that he reached Mosul city in Iraq.

With Arab nomads I stayed for two years and my Arab

(parents) treated me as if their own biological son. The Arab

Sheikhs (head of a tribe) even refused the invitation of the

Turkish authorities to participate in killing the Armenians

and keep any looted property.

They treated all the saved children and women with respect

and dignity. While with the Arabs, I saw Turks forcing the

Armenians to collect dry bushes and thorns and

later pushed them into a cave. then they burned the bushes

and all inside the cave died of burns or choked to death.

Later I left my Arab parents and fled to Istanbul where my

two uncles and brother Ohannes lived. After the armistice I

returned to my village with my brother Ohannes and Uncle

Hagop.

However in 1922, Kemal Ataturk forces invaded the western

part of Turkey burning villages and killing the Christians.

My uncle Hagop and brother Ohannes were killed and the entire

village of Kinjilar was burnt to ashes. I fled the massacre

to Istanbul and from there to Greece with my uncle Minas who

later emigrated to Armenia.

After leaning that my brother was in Baghdad I traveled to

Baghdad and formed a family. My wife Serpoohi was also a

genocide survivor, originally from Bilejik, a nearby village

to Kinjilar.

----Bedros Vartan Yessaian

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire Henry Morgenthau documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories:

(Submitted by Shirley Collins)

My name is Shirley Kalashian-Collins. I was born in 1951 to

Armenian parents. My mother was born in Aintab, Turkey in

1920 in the midst of the genocide of the Armenians. My mother

and my grandparents narrowly made it out alive and found

refuge in the U.S. My paternal grandmother also had a

harrowing story. Due to the threat against the Armenians she

was shipped to the U.S. at 15 years old to marry an Armenian,

only to find out a few years later that her parents were

killed and her younger sisters kidnapped. My mother tried

hard to put all these stories down on paper so the world

would know what happened to our families. After she passed

away, I attempted to finish her project. After nearly 10

years and hundreds of hours of work, I put the story

together.

Now I want to thank our Rep. Adam Schiff for his efforts to

put these stories that are left untold in the Congressional

Record. I know my mother, if she were alive, would be dancing

up and down with joy. You can't imagine how exciting this is

for me after all the years of work to make sure these stories

are kept alive and heard so that history will be recorded

accurately.

Thank you Rep. Schiff. This is such a wonderful and amazing

idea.

My great-grandfather, Sarkis Kalashian, married Margaret

Hougasian after my great-grandmother, Shoushan, died. Sarkis

was killed in 1915 by Turkish soldiers. This left Margaret a

widow with small children. My cousin, Margo Torigiants,

shared with me the following story of how her grandmother

escaped to France after Sarkis was killed:

After the massacre of the Armenians started, Margaret

suddenly became a widow when her husband and older son were

killed in 1915. According to her granddaughter, Margo,

Margaret had some gold nuggets as Sarkis had been a merchant

in Kharpet. Earlier pictures of Sarkis and Margaret show them

happy and very well dressed.

She used these gold nuggets to get some Turkish people to

help her and her children: Khoren, Hrant, Dickran, Araksi and

Vartan (and maybe Agavni--daughter of Khoren) to flee. She

dressed up the boys as girls to disguise them. (Boys were

more likely to be killed by the Turkish military). Somehow

they were able to get to Aleppo, Syria. She tried to get them

in an orphanage, but since they had a parent, she could not

get them in. she cooked for people and took the leftovers

home for the kids to eat. They stayed there for a few years,

but stayed close.

They were afraid Arabs would kidnap the kids. From there

they settled in Marsielle, France.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, Henry Morgenthau documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories (submitted by Aram Demerjian):

My father, born in Diarbekir in 1901, told me about the

real events as I was growing up. His experiences of what

happened to his father and how he made to escape death were

not pleasant for me to hear. I was born in Lebanon. I would

like give you some of the accounts related to me.

My grand-father was an iron smith. He made hand-cuffs for

the prison inmates. His own hand-cuffs clamped his own hands

by the Turks. He was taken away from his home for questioning

and his family never saw him again.

I consider my father a very talented man. For instance, he

could play musical instruments, he could sing with a vibrant

voice. He was not fanatic about his religious practice. On

his way to exile, he stopped at many villages for few days or

for few months. Some religious man (sheikh) gave him shelter

during one stop. This host noticed that he has a good voice.

So he invited my father to sing in the mosque. Of course,

having nothing to support himself, he could not refuse

Sheikh's request. I forgot to mention that my Dad also spoke

Kurdish.

Three months later, my father who is also a good horse

rider, left the village at night time. Not knowing anything

about his destiny. At this time, I have not many details

about how he made to Aleppo (Syria).

Someday, I shall sit down to write many other events

regarding his brothers and his mother whom survived this

genocide and how my Dad was able to meet them again in

Lebanon. His older sister was forcefully taken away by a

Turkish soldier.

I also have some recollections told to me by my mother's

side whose family was also exiled from the town of Konia.

On my mother's side, the story is different. Her father

(Sarkis) was a merchant. Sarkis owned some wealth. He

converted his assets into gold coins. But he did not make the

exile with his family made of 3 girls, one boy and his wife

(my grand-mother). Sarkis was taken away one morning and

never came back. The gold coins were hidden inside underwear

of the women. A local Turk helped them ride the train out of

Konia to Tarousse against a certain amount of monetary

payment.

Mr. Speaker, I rise in support of the NASA Authorization Act to provide direction and stability for our Nation's space program. Tens of thousands of aerospace workers in communities across the country are looking to Congress to set a sustainable path for human spaceflight that will minimize the spaceflight gap and ensure that NASA is able to accomplish its mission of human exploration into the solar system.

This bill fully funds NASA's science mission to continue Earth- observing satellites, Mars rovers, space telescopes and other missions that provide valuable insight into our planet, our solar system and our universe.

It also revitalizes NASA's dormant Technology Development Program, which will provide the tools needed to push human and robotic exploration to new heights and destinations. It authorizes an evolvable NASA launch vehicle. It also provides for an additional shuttle flight in bringing vital tools and supplies to the space station.

I want to express my sincere appreciation to our chairman for his extraordinary leadership for many years and his unwavering support of NASA, and urge my colleagues to support the bill.

I thank the gentleman for yielding.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to speak in support of legislation granting

the Congressional Gold Medal to the Japanese American 100th Infantry Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, commonly known as the ``Go for Broke'' regiments, as well as veterans of the Military Intelligence Service, for their dedicated service to our Nation during World War II.

It is an honor and a pleasure to offer humble thanks to this storied and inspirational group of men who answered their country's call in the face of tremendous adversity. Today, through final passage of a bill that will grant these regiments Congress' highest honor, we recognize those who have served our Nation at great risk, as well especially those who sacrificed all for our freedom.

These men served the Nation at a pivotal moment in our history, displaying their heroism and courage on two fronts--abroad in the fight against an absolutist fascism and at home in the face of the intolerance of racial injustice.

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor incited many doubts about the loyalty of Japanese Americans, these men who enlisted to protect our Nation were faced with segregated training conditions, family and friends relocated to internment camps, and repeated questions about their combat ability. It has been said many times about this group: to answer the call of duty requires exceptional courage and sacrifice, but to respond with a vigor and persistence unaffected by those who sought to malign and impede their every achievement reveals an incredible spirit and indomitable will.

Six weeks after Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, which authorized the internment of tens of thousands of American citizens of Japanese ancestry and resident aliens from Japan. But even as xenophobia gripped the country, Japanese Americans were already lining up to join the war effort.

In June of 1942, 1,432 members of the Hawaii Provisional Infantry Battalion were shipped from the Hawaiian Islands to Oakland, California, where the 100th Infantry Battalion was activated on June 12, 1942, and then were shipped to Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, for training. Thanks to the excellent training record of the 100th Infantry Battalion and petitions from prominent civilians and military leaders, President Roosevelt and the War Department reopened military service to Nisei volunteers.

Eventually, their exemplary training record convinced the doubters, and the 100th Infantry Battalion was deployed to the Mediterranean where they entered combat in Italy in September of 1943. Due to their bravery and valor, members of the Battalion were honored with six awards of the Distinguished Service Cross in the first 8 weeks of combat.

The 442nd Regimental Combat Team arrived in Italy in June 1944, where the 100th Infantry Battalion was formally integrated as a part of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team. As a unit, these regiments fought for the last 11 months of the war with selfless distinction in Italy, southern France, and Germany. Their performance in combat demonstrated their ability as remarkable soldiers; however, their poise, courage, and patriotism showed they were also remarkable men. They looked to support from their interned families, friends, and communities. And in turn, their service and commitment inspired their supporters back home to pursue aspirations of their own.

Today, we also honor the Military Intelligence Service, known as MIS, who were made up of several thousand Japanese American soldiers who conducted highly classified intelligence operations that proved to be vital to U.S. military successes in the Pacific theater. These men fought alongside U.S. and Allied combat units where they translated radio transmissions and enemy documents, interrogated prisoners, and completed reconnaissance and covert intelligence missions. Often they were faced with peril from both enemy and friendly forces--unrecognized by allies and attacked by enemies.

Their contributions continued during the Allied postwar occupation of Japan, and MIS linguistic skills and understanding of Japanese customs were invaluable to occupation forces as they assisted Japan in a peaceful transition to a new, democratic form of government.

The ``Go for Broke'' regiments and the MIS were not the only servicemen of Asian Pacific Islander descent to serve in World War II. I also want to recognize those groups who faced similarly daunting conditions at home and abroad--the 522nd Field Artillery Battalion, the 1399th Combat Engineer Company, the Women's Army Corps, the Filipino Scouts, and other heralded units. The ``Go for Broke,'' MIS, and other Japanese American men and women who have served deserve our continual rededication and appreciation. The debt we owe them is immeasurable.

Their aggregate service record speaks for itself and drove me to introduce legislation last year--this legislation--which recognizes these regiments with the Nation's highest and most distinguished civilian award--the Congressional Gold Medal. My colleagues in the House of Representatives saluted the valor of these regiments by voting unanimously last year on my bill to honor them with a Gold Medal. Recently, the Senate passed the bill authored by Senator Barbara Boxer with the same unanimous approval. With this vote today, we can begin to truly express our appreciation for a group of men who left a segregated country to fight and defend an America with no guarantee that their own freedom would be defended in return. Their true heroism lies in how they fought for values of America, equality, justice, and opportunity, even when those values were not fully extended to them.

We will continue to look towards their example to provide hope to our communities, to look past our differences, and to unite around our common bonds. Men and women are able to serve their country today without regard for ethnicity, race, or nationality because of what these men endured and accomplished.

It's an honor to be part of this moment, Madam Speaker, and I urge you to join me in recognizing these courageous men by supporting the granting of a Congressional Gold Medal, collectively, to the U.S. Army's 100th Infantry Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team and the Military Intelligence Service.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to recognize Oneonta Congregational Church of South Pasadena upon its centennial anniversary.

Oneonta Congregational Church was established in South Pasadena in 1910, when the Ladies Aid Society called upon Dr. I. Curtis Meserve, D.D. to be the first pastor of the developing church. The first services were held in the new high school and then in the parsonage bungalow, and the first Sunday school met in a garden. Founders Day was October 12, 1910, when officers were elected at the first official meeting. In 1911, land on Fletcher Avenue was acquired for the first church building, which was completed in 1925. The church was named after Henry E. Huntington's home town, the City of Oneonta, New York and it is a Native American name that means ``place of rest.''

Since its inception one hundred years ago, Oneonta Congregational church has only had twelve senior ministers serve the church. One of the most beloved ministers was Dr. Henry David Gray, the church's fifth senior minister. Under his leadership, land was purchased and the new sanctuary was constructed. Dedicated on October 12, 1950, with the first worship service held on October 15, the sanctuary, located on Garfield Avenue on the grounds of the former Boothe estate, was designed by award-winning architect Herbert Powell and was featured in Life Magazine for its beauty. Fellowship hall was completed in 1954, and the Christian education building was completed in 1972.

During the ministry of Dr. Gray, membership grew from 703 to 2,157. He instituted workshops and interest groups, which included participation in worship services, program building, recreational activities and work in the church office, and organized the pilgrim fellowship for youth and led youth church members on significant journeys overseas.

Other notable senior ministers include Dr. Charles Copenhaver, who hosted Sunday night radio broadcasts called ``Let's Talk,'' and Dr. Edwin Roberts, the longest-serving minister at twenty-one years, who was instrumental in increasing church members' participation in voluntary church responsibilities and sharing resources generously with those in need. The twelfth and current minister is Reverend Douglas Brandt, who has added a contemporary worship service and increased outreach to youth. In addition to Oneonta Congregational Church's own ministries, such as their music, adult, and youth ministries, congregants also volunteer for various organizations such as Door of Hope, Habitat for Humanity, Neighborhood Urban Family Center, Union Station Homeless Services, YMCA, Foothill Unity Center, Pan American Institute and the Ronald McDonald House.

I consider it a privilege to recognize the Oneonta Congregational Church of South Pasadena, and I invite all Members to join me in congratulating the congregation upon one hundred years of service to the community.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to congratulate the First United Methodist Church of Temple City upon its centennial anniversary.

The church was established in 1908, when about 30 people gathered to worship in an old wooden schoolhouse in the Santa Anita area of the San Gabriel Valley. In 1910, Rev. John Leonard Collins was appointed the new minister of the rapidly growing church, called the Mountain View Methodist Episcopal Church. As the church continued to grow, a new building was completed in 1911, with 14 different denominations worshipping in the facility.

The church was moved to its current location in the Town of Temple, today Temple City, in June of 1925, and, with these new roots, the church continued to prosper under the new name, Temple Community Church, Methodist Episcopal. Much different from the schoolhouse, the newly dedicated church boasted Ionic columns and was a fine example of modern church architecture. In 1950, the new Sunday school building was completed, with the members performing much of the construction. At that time, the membership had grown to over 600 members and more space was needed, so in 1957, a new sanctuary was completed. In 1964, the mortgage was paid off and the church name was changed--this time to Temple City First Methodist Church. The original, white columned church was demolished in 1964 to make room for a new building housing a fellowship hall and church offices. In 1972, the church's name was changed to its present name, the First United Methodist Church of Temple City.

Since its inception, the First United Methodist Church has been an inclusive and accepting church. In 1987, when the church was asked to share their facilities with a Korean United Methodist Church congregation, it gladly did so--and again when the church offered to share their facilities with a Chinese/English language church in the community.

Under the leadership of Reverend David Palmer, First United Methodist Church of Temple City offers a variety of programs and ministries such as adult Sunday school, church choir ministry, stress management support groups, and the Crafty Ladies, a fellowship group that makes handcrafted items for those in need. The church has an impressive health ministry program, a cooperative effort between Methodist Hospital and local churches, which provides health services to congregants. This ministry includes a parish nurse, who provides education, information, health counseling, referrals, and training of volunteers. In addition, the church created a fitness program called Shape Up 2010 that includes walking, biking and low impact aerobics.

I am proud to recognize the First United Methodist Church of Temple City for its 100 years of service to the people of the San Gabriel Valley, and I ask all Members to join me in congratulating the congregation upon this significant milestone.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to recognize the 125th anniversary of the First United Methodist Church of Burbank, California.

In 1883, when Burbank was a rural area with a population of a few scattered families, the community needed a place for worship, so a Sunday School was organized in the Providencia School House. One year later, on September 14, 1884, a church, located at Empire Avenue and Lincoln Street, was dedicated. After four years of use, the church was

sold to a congregation member and a new church was erected in 1888, one year after the establishment of the City of Burbank. The church was established as the Providencia Church, and eventually merged with the First Methodist Episcopal Church, taking the latter's name. In 1919, construction began on a new church at Olive Avenue and Third Street, which was completed and dedicated in October of 1922.

After World War II, the church membership grew to 1,000 parishioners, signaling the need for a new church building. In 1944, a building fund campaign began and property was purchased on Glenoaks Boulevard. In 1949, another fundraising campaign was launched to construct a new church on the Glenoaks property, and one year later, construction began on the new church, which became known as the First Methodist Church of Burbank. On May 25, 1952, the first official services were held in the First Methodist Church of Burbank and Consecration Sunday was held on September 14 later that year. The full construction plan was realized in 1956 with the completion of the Education Building. In 1968, when the Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren Church merged, and the entire denomination changed its name, First Methodist Church of Burbank became known as the First United Methodist Church of Burbank.

First United Methodist Church of Burbank offers a wide variety of programs and ministries to the Burbank community. The church hosts multiple Girl Scout troops, Boy Scout Troop #209, Cub Scout Pack #225, and offers opportunities for youth that include the Partners with the Parents Program and the Youth in Performing Arts Ministry. Other programs include the We Care Committee, which supports members of the congregation when they need assistance with meals, transportation and other services, as well as active chapters of the United Methodist Women and United Methodist Men organizations. In addition, members of the congregation volunteer on a regular basis at Burbank Temporary Aid Center and actively support our military by periodically sending care packages of personal items, telephone cards, books and other items to our troops overseas.

I consider it a great privilege to recognize First United Methodist Church of Burbank and I invite all Members to join me in congratulating the congregation for 125 years of service to the community.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire Henry Morgenthau documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian

family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories:

(By Sarkis DerTavitian)

My grandfather Nazareth Der Tavitian was born in Malatya,

Turkey. His family consisted of his wife, three sons and two

daughters. The eldest child, my aunt was born in 1900. My

father followed as the eldest son; he was born in 1903. Next

in line was the youngest of the daughters and she was born in

1907, followed by my uncle Kevork in 1910. The youngest son,

Hampartsoum was born in 1913.

My grandfather was a successful merchant in Malatya,

Turkey. His wealth included large tobacco and opium fields,

as well as the export of various goods such as leather, and

dried fruits to Europe and America. He often traveled to

Aleppo and Istanbul in order to conduct his business. At the

brink of WWI in 1914, a Turkish friend of my grandfather

informed him that the situation vas not looking good for

Turkish-Armenians, he advised that he, along with his eldest

son--my father make a temporary move to Istanbul, in hopes

that the move would keep them safe until the situation had

calmed within the provinces. My grandfather, uncomfortable

with the idea of leaving the rest of the family during

precarious times, conveyed these worries to a dear friend,

who at the time was the military general of Malatya. The

general assured him that as long as he remained in his

position, no Turkish citizen or official could bring harm to

him or his family. As the war progressed and the Young Turks

solidified their power they ordered the replacement of all

leading generals in the provinces, including Malatya--the aim

being to break the power of the provisional leaders. My

grandfather's dear friend was soon replaced. The alteration

of leadership happened abruptly, therefore the opportunity to

migrate was infeasible to all those who resided in Malatya.

As soon as my grandfather's friend was replaced as the

military general of Malatya, my grandfather was arrested and

taken into custody. He had been imprisoned for two weeks when

the chief of police gave him an ultimatum--abandon your

religion or go under the sword. My grandfather refused to

renounce his religion therefore he was murdered instantly.

(This story was conveyed to my father by those who were

jailed with my grandfather, they had converted in order to

save their lives).

Having been one of the more successful residents of

Malatya, my grandfather had an apprentice whom he regarded

both as a friend and apprentice. It was his way of giving

back to the community, which until the Genocide had offered

him and his family the utmost comfort and good. This friend

was aware of the wealth that was kept in my grandfather's

home. He came to see if assistance was needed, as he was not

a Turkish-Armenian, but rather a Turk by heritage. To his

surprise he found that my grandfather had already been taken

into custody, and my grandmother was in hiding in the

basement of the family home, she had escaped the mandatory

deportation of Malatya. He assured them that he would be back

once he can figure out how he could best be of service.

Comforted by his statement, the family continued to stay in

hiding as they eagerly awaited his return.

Unfortunately, the loyalty of my grandfather's apprentice

was not to be trusted. Upon leaving my father's family home,

he went to the local police and informed them that my

grandmother, along with the children were in hiding and had

escaped the mandatory deportation. He provided the local

police with the proper address and location, as well as the

background information pertaining to my family.

My grandmother had taken precautions and had told my father

along with the eldest of the daughters where the family

fortune was hidden. Having heard and seen the horrific

experience of mass murder and deportation my grandmother was

well aware that her family would not stay intact. In the

likely chance that she would be taken into arrest, she had

hoped that the large amount of family savings would either

help the children sustain themselves or buy their safety.

Soon thereafter, my grandmother was taken into exile. My

father recalls her carrying a child as the police forced her

out of the home; leaving the remaining children orphaned. My

grandmother was never to be heard from again. The fate of my

grandmother and her infant remains unknown. That was the last

they saw or heard of their mother. The children were not sent

into exile. They continued to hide in the basement of the

family home.

After my grandmother was taken away my grandfather's

apprentice rushed to the house. Seeing the children,

distraught, alone and in tears he assured them that he would

find their mother and return her to safety. He left only to

return in a couple of days. We concluded that the two-day

absence would assure that no other family member was present

to care for the children. Upon his return, he lied to the

children and told them that he was able to find their mother

that she was well, but in need of their help. He told the

children that their mother asked that they gather the hidden

family wealth, in order to bail her out of jail. Their

father's apprentice would take care of the procedure. The

eldest child my aunt, obliged in trust and showed my

grandfather's apprentice where the wealth was hidden. The

family wealth amounted to two barrels of 20,000 gold coins.

The average yearly salary in Malatya at the time of the

Armenian Genocide was two gold coins--the salary of 10,000

Turkish workers. As the children eagerly awaited their

mother's return, my grandfather's apprentice enjoyed the

sudden lavishness of wealth. Out of immense guilt, my aunt,

the eldest child of Nazareth DerTavitian became severely ill.

She died at the age of 15.

A year after the murder of my grandfather and grandmother,

the Turkish police came to the family home and took my

father, his two brothers and his sister into government

headquarters. They demanded that they convert to Islam or

their fate would resemble that of their parents. My father,

now being the eldest spoke for the entire family. He decided

that the safety of his brothers and sister was of the utmost

importance. They all converted to Islam and circumcised in

accordance to Muslim tradition. They now held new identities,

a new religion and new names. My father Kevork became Bakeer.

They continued to live in Malatya in hopes of regaining the

ownership of their father's land. They thought that that

hopeful day had come when Mustafa Kemal Ataturk ratified a

law in which whoever held the certificate to the land on

which they resided could claim ownership of that land. My

father was able to find the necessary certificates to the

family home and took them to the provincial government of

Malatya. To my father's devastation they would not allow him

to have ownership of his land, because he himself was not

Nazaret Der Tavitian. By statue, the lands could not be

claimed by the living children of the deceased. Under this

new law my father along with his siblings was left homeless.

They would either live on the streets of Malatya or leave

Turkey and start a new life in Aleppo, a safe haven for

Armenian refugees. Their obstacles were many. In addition to

having limited amount of resources, a law of conversion

hindered the arduous road ahead. Converted persons were not

allowed to leave Turkey; therefore they had to risk their

physical safety by escaping out of the country. The family

was separated in order to secure a safe departure. Riding on

mules they individually reached Aleppo, around 1924. They

were reunited in the refugee camps of Aleppo.

In 1959, when I was barely 16 years old, the sister of a

dear friend of my father's came to visit her brother from

Malatya. I, along with my parents went to welcome her. There,

I overheard her recall to my father that his father's three

story home was still standing and had been converted into an

orphanage. The elaborate Damascene hand woven wooden front

door, which was the mark of the DerTavitian household, was

still standing.

This story, which I just relayed to you, is but one story

in the devastating events of the Armenian genocide. The price

of which we continue to pay. My father passed 34 years ago.

He led an incredibly difficult life. The events of 1915

continued to haunt him. He was unable to surrender the

thoughts, emotions and images that followed him throughout

his life. I believe that if my father was alive today, his

one desire would be to assure that no other peoples or nation

suffer under the same fate that he had seen and experienced.

I hope that this testimony will play a small, yet significant

part of our most basic human quest, that of human rights.

I thank you for taking on this endeavor. Through your

actions, you assure that your character is great. For you not

only honor and love justice, but rather, work towards its

fulfillment.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to recognize the 36th anniversary of the Turkish invasion and continuing occupation of the

northern part of Cyprus. Since then, Cypriots have suffered from the division of their country and countless violations of their human rights by Turkish occupation forces. Even today, there is one Turkish soldier for every 2 Cypriots, making Cyprus one of the most heavily militarized places on Earth. It is important that we recognize not only the anniversary of the invasion, but also the island's ongoing problems at the hands of Turkey.

On July 20, 1974, Turkish troops unlawfully occupied the northern part of Cyprus with a heavily-armed force that maintains control of 37 percent of Cyprus today. This has resulted in the usurpation and exploitation of Cypriot property, as well as the creation of hundreds of thousands of refugees. Additionally, an influx of Turkish immigrants has settled into the evicted Cypriots' homes, permanently altering the demographics of Cyprus and outnumbering native Cypriots by two to one. The UN has passed a multitude of resolutions calling for Turkish withdrawal from Cyprus, but they have been continually ignored.

As Cyprus has always been a reliable partner of the United States, we must not forget the injustices suffered by its people. We must uphold the ideals of freedom, democracy, justice, human rights, and the international rule of law. By invading Cyprus, Turkey is in direct offense to all of these. As much as we would rather have no such grievance to recognize, it is important that we commemorate these injustices today.

I urge my colleagues to join me in expressing the hope that Cyprus will be reunified soon and that peace will return to this beautiful and historic land in the eastern Mediterranean.

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, Henry Morgenthau documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories:

Translated by Levon A. Saryan, Ph.D.

In January of 2008, I traveled to Beirut to participate in

the International Symposium on the Culture of Cilician

Armenia, which was held under the sponsorship of His Holiness

Aram I, Catholicos of the Great House of Cilicia. One

morning, as I took my seat in the meeting hall, I turned

around and introduced myself to two women scholars seated

behind me, Dr. Verjine Svazlyan and her daughter Knarik

Avagyan. Both were among the contingent of academics from

Yerevan who were participating in the symposium. As we got to

talking (the usual ``where are you from, where are your

parents from'' questions that Armenians are so fond of), Dr.

Svazlian removed from her briefcase a small book that she had

written and opened it to a page containing several

photographs. After searching for a moment, she pointed to one

of the photos. It was a picture of my father, whose account

was one of several hundred that Dr. Svazlian has been

collecting over the years. Dr. Svazlyan transcribed my

father's story in July 1999 at the Louvre Museum in Paris,

when they were both attending the Sixth International

Conference of Armenian Linguistics. My father's account was

not contained in the small book she showed me, but it is

recorded in Armenian in Dr. Svazlyan's major work, Hayots

Tseghaspanutiun: Aganades Verabroghneri Vgayutiunneruh

(Armenian Genocide: The Testimonies of Eyewitness Survivors),

published in Yerevan by the Republic of Armenia National

Academy of Sciences in 2000. After returning to Yerevan,

Knarik kindly sent me a scan of the relevant pages from this

book, enabling me to prepare this translation.

The village of Piran is located on the southern slopes of

the Taurus mountain range, approximately midway between the

towns of Palu (to the north) and Diarbekir (to the south).

Kharpert is to the west, and Sassoun is to the east. Piran

was a relatively small village, with probably less than 1,000

inhabitants. It does not appear on most maps. As we will see,

it did not escape the fate of other Armenian towns and

villages in the region. In 1915, through murder and

deportation, Piran was nearly emptied of its Armenian

inhabitants.

I present here an English translation of my father's

account as transcribed by Prof. Svazlyan. Some additions and

clarifications are noted in brackets. I have also made a few

minor factual adjustments based on our personal family

knowledge.

* * * * *

For the most part, the inhabitants of our village were

Kurds; there were a few Turks, and the rest were Armenians.

Our village was not far from the source of the Tigris River.

The Tigris begins at Dzovk Lake; Dzovk is where Nerses

Shnorhali was born. Dzovk was one and one-half days away from

us. In the spring, the Tigris River flowed so swiftly that it

would carry trees with their roots in its current. I have

seen how, if the trees became tangled in the river, some

swimmers would enter the water and straighten the trunks so

that the water could flow unimpeded. Four or five miles from

Piran, our village, there was a red rock outcropping, where

wild bees made honey which would collect in a hole [in the

rock]. Our villagers would go [to this place] with pans to

collect the honey, fill their pans, and take it home.

I was born in 1911. My father's name was Krikor, my uncle's

name was Garo, my grandfather, Sarkis. Three months before

the Great Catastrophe, I awoke to find myself on my

grandmother's back. My father had been taken in handcuffs to

the police house. The last time I saw my father he was tied

with handcuffs. All of the Armenian men in the village were

taken from the prison and driven to the northeast. Later, the

Kurds told us that all of them had been killed.

It was a hot day in the month of July, 1915. The Kurds had

come; they were sitting in the shade of a tree watching the

proceedings. The command for deportation had arrived and

everywhere there was confusion. The Turkish gendarmes were

saying to each other: ``Firman geldi, bir giavourn kafa

kalmaiachak.'' (Turkish for ``an official

command has arrived, not one infidel (Armenian) head shall

remain.'')

Although at that time I was only 4 years old, I remember it

well. I did not want to go into exile. Our family was put

onto the road before noon. They were taking the road toward

the nearby Kurdish village of Kalbin, the one we used when

taking our herds to graze. The flocks went, the dust rose and

our family went. My mother, my older sister Haygouhi (seven

years old), my younger sister Esther (2 years old), and my

four-month old brother Haygaz. My little sister and my

brother became tired on the road to exile, and began to cry.

The gendarme [accompanying the caravan] took Esther and

Haygaz and threw them into the Tigris River. My mother fled

and my older sister Haygouhi was kidnapped. My father's

brother's son was small; they killed his mother with a

dagger, and they also killed little Ghevont since his mother

would not obey the soldiers. Hermig, one of our neighbors,

had escaped from the caravan. She returned to the village and

told us what had happened to them.

I did not go with them. Because I sensed the coming danger

I went and hid in our stable. A military policeman came,

found me and took hold of me, and placed me on a donkey. I

did not want this, and started to cry. I got down from the

donkey, and again went and hid myself in the stable. Once

more, the military police came and found me, and again they

placed me on the donkey. Again I let myself down, and this

time I went to the tree where the Kurds were sitting, and

mixed with them. They belonged to the Zaza tribe and spoke

the Kurmanji dialect; they were our friends and neighbors.

Imagine, just at that moment my grandmother came from behind

me. She was a folk doctor; she would dry various types of

flowers and use them to treat eye diseases, and cure people.

People would compensate her for her services with tomatoes,

peppers, madzoun (yogurt), and so forth. [Because of this

skill, she was allowed to remain in the village.]

I had a 15-year-old uncle [whose name was Kaloust], who was

taken all day for interrogation. It was he who shoed all the

horses in our village. Consequently, the Turks needed a

craftsman like him in the village. For that reason they

allowed him to remain in the village, and I stayed with him.

The next year we were Islamized, we became Zaza and Kurmanji,

but in the house we spoke Armenian. A mullah came, and my

name became Sefer. I, my uncle, and Hovhannes (whose name

became Haso) were circumcised. I remember that there was a

terrible pain. That part of my body felt like it was on fire.

They took that part of my body and dried it in the sun,

keeping it as evidence.

We stayed with the Kurds for four years, until 1919. In

those years we would travel by donkey north, south, east, and

west, tinning copper pots. My job was to [stoke the fire by]

working the bellows. Hovhannes-Haso worked with us. He would

pulverize rocks, fill them in the copper pots and mix them

with his foot, cleaning the inside of the pot so that the tin

would adhere. My uncle would collect old nails which we would

warm in a fire until they became soft, and make new nails.

One day, in this fashion, we made 1,500 nails.

Southeast of our village were Kurdish villages named Kalbin

and Shekhmalan. I have been to those villages. There was an

Islamized Armenian married woman who lived there. I was there

one night. I heard some whispering that the Islamized

Armenians, because they had been reduced to starvation, had

decided to enter the wheat fields at nighttime and steal

grain. The grain belonged to them, they had cultivated the

wheat in those fields, but the Kurds had taken it. The

following day it became apparent that they had taken the

grain, since one of their bags had a hole in it and the

grain, falling out of the bag, had left a trail.

East of our village was the Kurdish village of Deiran,

where the Kurds lived in conical stables. I went, and saw

that the wheat was ripe in the fields around us as we walked

to Deiran village. The weather was so hot that the fields

behind us ignited and started to burn, but we were not

harmed. The Kurds were the losers, since for them this was

ill-gotten gain.

The war was over by 1919. My father's brother Simon had

enlisted as a volunteer [gamavor in Armenian] in the Armenian

legion of the French Army. The young men trained in Cyprus,

and then went to Adana and fought.

[Simon came to our village and found that I had survived.

He wanted to take me to America. First,] we came to

Dikranagert [Diarbekir], then Mardin, where there was a

railway. There was a fortress on a very high hill. The

railroad was down below, in a valley. The train only came

once a week, so we went to the station a day early and slept

there, waiting for the train.

Many Armenians were going to Aleppo and we, with them, were

also going to Aleppo. There was nothing to eat, and I was ill

with a strong fever. My Uncle Simon somehow got me into the

railway wagon, so that I could reach Aleppo quickly. From one

side the French soldiers were pulling me onto the train,

while on the other side the Turkish soldiers were trying to

pull me off. Simon was unable to come with me, but he gave me

his volunteer's cap. This was the Berlin-Baghdad railway that

brought us to Aleppo. When I reached Aleppo, I put the cap on

my head, and the Armenian volunteers found me and took [care

of] me. We had a relative named Baghdadian, who had reached

Aleppo with his young son, but a Turk had struck him in the

head and blinded him. He took me in and kept me until my

uncle arrived the following week. Since my uncle was a

volunteer, he could travel for free. First he returned to

America, and in 1921 he sent me money and I also came to

America.

I became a chemist. Later, I went to Befit to study

Armenian at the Jemaran [College Armenien]. There, my

teachers were Levon Shant, Nigol Aghbalian, and others. We

learned to sing in Gananchian's chorus. There I met Armine

[Manoukian, my future wife]. Later, she came to America. Now

we have two sons and two daughters. One son is a physician

and the other is a biochemist. Our daughters work in the

financial industry. We have eight grandchildren. The Turks

reduced our numbers, but we increased them.

I am also a writer and I study the relationship of Armenian

to other sister Indo-European languages. I have published a

book on this topic [Language Connections: Kinship of Armenian

with Sister Indo-European Languages].

I thank the gentleman for yielding, and I thank Chairman Scott for his leadership on this issue.

Mr. Speaker, I rise in support of H.R. 1469, the Child Protection Improvements Act. I first introduced this legislation in 2007 with my colleague Mike Rogers of Michigan. The Child Protection Improvements Act would ensure that any mentoring organization or child-serving nonprofit will be able to obtain an affordable, fast, and accurate background check of a potential volunteer.

About 25 years ago, I began as a volunteer with Big Brothers, Big Sisters. Big Brothers paired me with an extraordinary young man named David. I've always said that I've learned as much or more from David as he ever learned from me. The experience also helped me understand the huge amount of trust we put in volunteers at organizations all around the country. In the vast majority of cases, the trust is well placed; but, unfortunately, there are exceptions.

For that reason, in 2003, Congress created the Child Safety Pilot Program to demonstrate the feasibility of allowing youth-serving nonprofits to access FBI background checks. The FBI maintains a database of criminal histories from every State in the Nation searchable by fingerprint. An FBI search is the gold standard background check, as it cannot be evaded by using a fake name and it will find convictions from every State. I believe the gold standard is what we should strive for when it comes to protecting children who are put in potentially a vulnerable situation.

Since 2003, almost 90,000 background checks have been performed through the pilot. In 94 percent of the cases, the background check returns no serious criminal history. However, in 6 percent of the cases, a record of some kind was found, in some cases an extensive record which the applicant attempted to conceal. In 23 percent of those cases, the applicant gave a name other than the one in their criminal history. Applicants were found with convictions for everything from murder to child abuse to sexual assault; and frequently those convictions were from out of State so that only an FBI background check would have found them.

We have demonstrated that background checks for nonprofits working with children can be conducted quickly, affordably, and accurately. Three times since 2003, Congress has acted to extend the pilot so that thousands of community organizations all over the country don't lose access to background checks for their volunteers. It's time to create a permanent system, one that will protect children while ensuring the civil rights and privacy of volunteers.

Again, I want to thank Chairman Conyers, one of the original cosponsors; Chairman Scott, the chairman of the subcommittee; my colleague, Mike Rogers; and all other Members who have contributed to this effort and urge the Members to vote ``yes.''

Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire Henry Morgenthau documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''

The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.

This is one of those stories:

(Submitted by Nareg Krumian, the grandson of Haroutioun Andonian)

``Haroutioun Andonian was born in Gurun, Turkey in 1909 and

grew up with his father, mother, grandmother and younger

sister. At the age of 6, his father and mother were separated

from him, his sister and his grandmother. His father was

arrested by Turkish soldiers and his mother was taken away.

He still remembers a line of people bound to each other at

their wrists and being marched away from his village. Among

them was Haroutioun's father, whom he never saw afterwards.

He never saw his mother again either. He was rounded up with

his sister, grandmother and other neighbors by another group

of soldiers and taken away to various cities and villages. By

the time they reached Aintab (presently called Gaziantep),

his sister and grandmother were too weak from hunger and the

forced marches that they lost their lives as well.

``In Aintab, various Armenian, American and European aid

workers tried to contain the situation of children left

without family. The orphans were disbursed to various

Armenian and Turkish homes throughout the villages of Aintab.

Haroutioun remembers the name of Balaban Khoja, a teacher,

who was instrumental in placing the orphans with families who

wanted children. After going through several homes,

Haroutioun lived with a lady who would later become his

mother-in-law.

``Around the time he was 10 years old, American and Danish

missionaries began taking the children to orphanages in

Lebanon and the U.S. Haroutioun was sent to Jbeil, a city in

northern Lebanon, where he stayed until around 1925 when he

was sent to France through the aid of the American charity

Near East Relief. For a few years, he worked on a farm and

later went to Paris to work at the Renault factory where he

was responsible for chroming metal components.

``In the early 1930s, Haroutioun found out that the lady

who had cared for him last as a child in Aintab had herself

been forced to evacuate her village with her family and was

living in Aleppo, Syria. He went to Syria, began working in

various fields such as trading in cloth and yarn, and

managing Turkish baths that were still prevalent during that

period. He also married his host mother's daughter, Marie,

with whom he had one daughter, Alice.

``Haroutioun and Marie left Syria for the last time in 1987

and came to Los Angeles to join their daughter and her

family. In 2002, he became a U.S. citizen and shared a letter

with the judge presiding over the procedure that he had kept

for over 70 years. The letter was from the Near East Relief

thanking Haroutioun for paying back funds he had borrowed

during his journey to France. Though not obligated to do so,

Haroutioun had felt that re-paying into the fund would allow

other unfortunate people with the opportunity to rebuild

their lives. To this day, he maintains that the government of

Turkey and its soldiers took away his ability to know what it

was to have a family but that today, living in the United

Stated at the age of 101 amid his two grandchildren and six

great grandchildren, he has become a king who has

everything.''