FRENCHY THE SECOND'S LITTLE POPCORN TRUCK

“In my heart, it’s woven together with my beloved baby brother.”

My baby brother, George M. Gregorian, was almost 58 when he died, in 2022, but to me he will always be Georgie. He was born when I was 12 and quickly became the darling of the family. Smart, sweet, naughty, curious. He talked nonstop—about his day, about his ideas, about whatever was going through his head (“Who made the dark?”); on a road trip when he was about 5, spiking his sandwich with Dramamine was the only way we could get some peace and quiet. But my little sister and I loved having Georgie as our plaything. We could get him to do anything.

Georgie always had nicknames. Mazod (roughly, “hairy” in Armenian). Sudsy (one of his early business ventures was a laundromat). Bobo (my mom, having a brain freeze one day, couldn’t think of his name, and Bobo is what she came up with). In this story, though, he’s Frenchy the Second. I’ll explain.

In 1956, wanting to be self-employed, my parents had bought an antique popcorn trailer. In the Armenian community of Providence, Rhode Island, my father, George—who was born in Armenia but raised in Marseilles, France—became Frenchy of Frenchy’s Popcorn. He and my mother supported us by selling 15-cent boxes of popcorn, candy apples and snow cones at schools, fairs and festivals. My sister and I often begrudged working in the trailer, but from the time he was little, Georgie wanted to be there. He cried when he couldn’t come along or had to go home early.

The concessions business is hard work, and after my parents aged out and moved to Florida, and we kids each went in our different directions, Frenchy’s faded into the background—until I needed money for my wedding and convinced Georgie to take the trailer out of storage and do a few events. That was all the kick he needed. In the following years, he had the time of his life expanding the scope and sales of what had been literally a mom-and-pop. Frenchy the Second was born.

My brother loved life. He was a proud Armenian-American and loved going on Armenian Heritage Cruises and leading the folk dances to his heart’s content. He was loud and opinionated and you’d sometimes hear his rants on local talk radio—it could be a bit embarrassing, to tell the truth!—but he was able to connect with all kinds of people. And he was always up for an adventure. Once on a family vacation when my father balked at driving from Montreal to Quebec City because it was already 9 a.m., Georgie famously asked, “Where is it written that you can’t go to Quebec if it’s later than 9 a.m.?”

The beginning of the pandemic was tough on Frenchy the Second. No more events. His livelihood evaporated. So as soon as the world started opening up again, he pivoted away from events and opened Frenchy’s Countryside Creamery, selling ice cream and other sweets. He also got a contract with a local park to run Frenchy’s Carousel Café, which was open long hours, seven days a week. He worked hard to run the Creamery, the café and also a landscape-lighting business. It seemed he’d made it through the worst of Covid times, right up until the day Covid got him.

As Georgie’s executor, it fell to me to deal with his possessions. I arranged for an auction, where the antique popcorn trailer and every other bit of equipment was sold. As much as I griped about working in that trailer, I miss it so much now. In my heart, it’s woven together with my beloved baby brother. And so this little ceramic truck, which I could easily have thrown away, has become a precious symbol. There was a time when I could get my brother to do anything. How I wish I could have convinced him to get vaccinated. Instead, I’ll keep the little truck until I die, at which point I expect to be greeted by Frenchy the Second. My Georgie.

—Camille Gregorian

Georgie and I were not camera-shy. Here we’re at my house, where he often came for Sunday dinner—though never, ever on time!

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Camille Gregorian was born and raised in Providence, Rhode Island. After receiving a master’s degree, she had a long career as a hospital social-work manager. Today she works part-time but has returned to her first love—art—and recently exhibited eight paintings from her series related to Georgie, Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Images of the complete series below.

Gregorian, Camille. Yellow Gold. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Last Text. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Everything Is Muted. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Bittersweet. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permisison.

Gregorian, Camille. He Didn’t Believe in Science. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Legacy – 1956. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Vax. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Ignorance. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Come Back. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Bed 58. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Party Rocket. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. Special Order. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

Gregorian, Camille. We Three. From the series Layers of Loss, Love, and Longing. Image used with permission.

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