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I
was born in Tehran, Iran on August 6, 1969 to Vigen and Nadia Derderian. In 1971, we all immigrated to the United States along
with my younger sister. Both my parents are from Armenian descent and both were
brought up as Christians. Armenian Christians generally fall under the Gregorian denomination.
My
fathers' father escaped from Turkey to Iran in order to avoid persecution from the Turks during the Armenian Genocide of 1915.
Like
many other Armenians at the time, my grandfather experienced and witnessed some of the most horrific and inhumane treatment
of his people, perpetrated by the
Turks.
Armenian
women were raped, mutilated and murdered. My father would tell me magnificent
stories of his father escaping to Iran under the most horrible conditions.
One
of the saddest stories is of when my grandfather had to drown his own two sisters in a lake in order to save them
from the brutality, rape, and torture of oncoming Turks. He knew that if these
men captured his sisters they would suffer greatly and then be murdered. He rather
of had them die on their own terms instead of having them experience a most certain, humiliating and brutal death.
What
a horrible thing for someone to have to go through and decide upon. I couldn't
even imagine having to make that choice.
Then
my grandfather had to stay in a well for days in order to avoid capture or death by the Turks.
When he arrived in Iran he met his wife, who is also Armenian and they had 8 children. One of
which is my father, Vigen Derderian.
Indecently, the name Derderian is derived
form the word derder that means priest in Armenian. Most Armenian sir names are
derivatives of ones occupation. So somewhere down the line of my family tree
someone was a priest.
When World War II broke
out my father was about 12 years old and live in Northern Iran, which was mostly populated by Azerbaijanis. By this time his
father had passed away with pneumonia and his mother was left to raise 8 children.
Because Iran allied with Germany
at the start of the war, The Soviet Union, without incident nor resistance, marched into northern Iran.
Most of the Soviet army
invading Iran was comprised or Armenian soldiers. Thats because Armenia, which was just north of Iran, was now a part of the Soviet Empire.
It was at this point where
my father's destiny became apparent.
An Armenian soldier came
to my dads house, for a home inspection, and offered to sell him a guitar.
It is important to know that a guitar in Iran
is a foreign instrument, hardly recognizable. My Dad, who loved music, purchases
that guitar and basically taught himself how to play it.
One day, about 15 years
later, my father was playing guitar on a beach singing a song he had written. By chance, someone from Iranian radio passed
by and heard him play. He was then offered to go on the radio station and play
his song. He became famous overnight.
Because he introduced
the guitar to the Iranian people and delivered a more western, European style to his music he became to be know as the King
of Pop or Sultan of Jazz.
I could go on and on
about my dads experiences but I must talk about others including me.
| News paper cliping from Iran |
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| Dad me and my Mom on my 1st B-day |
As a child I never was exposed to strict Christian traditions. In fact, religion was never discussed. I knew we were Christians,
and I knew about Jesus, but that was it. After all, my dad was like a rock star and my mom had to keep up with my dad.
We never went to church. My dad usually worked on weekends because he was in the entertainment business, so on Sundays
there was no one to take us to church. In fact, my parents forgot to baptize my sister and me when we where born. They just
did not pay attention to things like that nor value it.
Where I got any religion was at school. It so happened that the closest school to us was a Lutheran School called Laurel
Hall in North Hollywood. There we had bible study, chapel, and some pastors as teachers.
I actually got my self baptized and confirmed when I was 13 years old without any coercion nor persistence by my parents.
In retrospect, I am impressed with my self; that a 13-year-old boy initiated and completed such an important religious ritual.
It was then, that I always questioned the pastors; Especially about Noahs Ark. They could not give me any rational explanation
and the head pastor told me that most of the Old Testament was not literal. So they are just stories???
After finishing 9th grade at a private-Lutheran
school, I transferred to Grant High School, which is a public school. This
was quite a change for me leaving a school with only 25 kids in the whole 9th grade and then attending a school
that had over 3,000, very diverse kids.
In junior high school, every one for the most
part, were white Christian kids. I was probably the most ethnic one in my class. In public high school I
was exposed to a variety of cultures and religions which was a little frightening for a 14 year old that has never known
anything different.
It took a while for me to adjust. In
fact, most the friends I acquired in high school were Jewish. I don't think I ever new anybody Jewish
until I went to high school. They all even thought I was Jewish. That's because in Sherman Oaks, if you see a
white kid in a public school, it's a good bet that he's Jewish.
After high school I forgot about religion.
I never went to church nor prayed or even thought about religion. All I was really concerned about was getting
drunk and meeting girls. In college that's what youre exposed to, that's the environment, and those are your memes.
I became a product of my environment.
It was the late 80's. There were no deep discussions about spirituality, philosophy, or religion between my piers.
They'ld think you were gay and you'ld probably get your ass kicked if you got into a discussion of any of those topics.
It was the Guns and Roses, LL cool J era. You had to be a
bad ass and get your enlightenment from a keg of beer and then later, hopefully from between the legs of some cute sophomore.
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