چون قلم اندر نوشتن می شتافت،چون به عشق آمد قلم بر خود شکافت
More of the stuff inside my camera...My son and I arrived the fog-covered UC Santa Cruz last Thursday at 7:00 a.m., looking for directions. These days, he seems like he has found his way. I am looking to find my way, too. I think it was a strange coincidence for California Dreamin to be playing in the car, don't you?
These are the residence halls in which my son will be staying this fall. In the distance you would see the Monterey Bay on a clear day. My son (in his 127 T-shirt!) making new friends in Santa Cruz last week. UC Santa Cruz is located in the middle of a forest. So it may be no surprise to run into deer over there. Nonetheless, we were startled to find them in the parking lot when we were going home in the afternoon!I'll be better in posting photos as soon as I have them. Looking through the hundreds of pictures I have taken, I realized that they are not very useful when I wait too ong! I hope you all have a good week ahead of you. I will post something a little different soon. Be good y'all.
Mohammad Reza Mortazavi, an accomplished Tombak player, leads Dast Afshan group of young Iranian percussionists in a performance in Tehran.
First a story for you...
Saeed was our neighborhood's bad boy. The one all the girls really liked, because he was handsome, a little older than the rest of us, drove fast cars, and appeared so mature and indifferent to all the girls. He was also my friend, confiding in me and telling me stories about the girls' attempts to get close to him. Saeed loved a girl on our street who wasn't giving him the time a day, so he wasn't paying attention to the other girls. One of the girls, Ramona, a classmate of mine at Kharazmi High School who lived a few blocks away from our street, was obsessed with Saeed and really wanted to get close to him. She had found his phone number and kept calling him at all hours, never telling him her name or showing herself, but just talking to him. Saeed was overwhelmed by this girl's calls, but didn't know how to stop her from calling his house. He had offered to see her in person to talk to her, but she refused. One day Saeed received a call from Ramona. As they were talking, he heard traffic noises in the background, so he knew she was calling from a pay phone. They talked and Saeed listened some more, until he heard the sound of Azan, loud and clear, broadcast from a mosque obviously nearby. Our neighborhood had only two mosques, so Saeed figured this girl was in a phone booth near one of the two mosques. He told her someone was at the door and asked her if she wouldn't mind holding for a few minutes for him to go and see to the visitor. She agreed. Saeed got behind his car and drove very fast to the mosque closest to our home. He could see a girl in the phone booth just outside the mosque. He parked the car and got out and knocked on the glass door of the booth. Ramona turned around and saw him. She fainted. The calls stopped. The End.*It's Friday. I am ending a happy week. I hope it has been the same for you. I am going to relax and enjoy my weekend. It is quite possible that my sons will join me and my friends to go dancing tomorrow night! How cool is that?! If it happens, I will let you know all about it. I hope your weekend is filled with the joy of dance steps with those you love and hold dear. The best things in life are free and yours just for the asking. Ask someone to dance with you. You don't have to be in a ballroom or at a party. A room with two people in it would suffice. When you step to the dance floor, dance with all your heart, and pour all your stress out of you! Hold hands and gazes while you dance, and there you have it, a dance full of love and life. Do it! Have a good weekend you all. *Not quite the end. Saeed married Fariba, the girl three doors down who wouldn't give him the time a day! They have two grown children and live in Sweden. I saw them last Christmas and this was one of the hundreds of memories we reminisced about. Their entire family are excellent dancers! Last I heard of Ramona, she lived in the UK.
به كجا چنین شتابان؟ گون از نسیم پرسید
دل من گرفته زین جا هوس سفر نداری زغبار این بیابان؟
همه آرزویم اما چه كنم كه بسته پایم
به كجا چنین شتابان؟ به هر آن کجا كه باشد به جز این سرا سرایم!
سفرت بخیر اما تو و دوستی خدا را
چو از این كویر وحشت به سلامتی گذشتی
به شكوفه ها، به باران برسان سلام ما را
"محمد رضا شفیعی کدکنی"
Three weeks ago, I celebrated the 30th anniversary since I arrived the United States. I remember going to visit San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf and Ghirhardelli Square with my parents and my sisters for the first time exactly 30 years ago in July 1978. There was a man sitting on a street corner, playing his guitar and singing songs in many different languages of the world. He would ask you where you were from and would break into a song from your country! We told him we were from Iran and he started singing "Ma Ra Beboos." Every time I went back to visit, he would be there, singing the same song and being jolly and kind, earning his tip! I hadn't seen him for a few years and I was delighted to see him again yesterday when we took my cousin for a sightseeing tour of the City! There he was, looking exactly as he did before, and when he asked me where I was from and I said Iran, he broke into "Ma Ra beboos!" I told him the story of my 30th anniversary in the country and how he had stayed my "friend" for all the years I have loved San Francisco. He gave me his business card and when I snapped a bunch of pictures of him, he kindly got up, pulled out his camera and snapped some pictures of me! His name is Mr. Norbert Yancey. He is one of the reasons I love this patch of the world and he is one of the reasons I had a very joyful day yesterday. Have a good Sunday you all.
Saeid Shanbehzadeh and his son Naghib Shanbehzadeh perform the music of Bushehr, Iran.
It's Friday. I am sitting in a chair in my pajamas with my laptop on my lap at my older sister's house. My family are also all sitting here with their pajamas, drinking tea and telling stories. We have gathered around my cousin, renewing memories of a magical childhood together and making new memories. Can life get any better than this?
I wish you all a wonderful weekend, close to your family and those who love and understand you. I wish the same wonderful and warm cloud of familiarity, love, and continuity would envelop you, making you feel content and happy as I feel tonight. I'm putting this computer aside momentarily to re-join the boisterous conversation in progress. Have a good weekend everyone. Don't forget to smile. Don't forget to confess your love.
Qajar dance "Golestan-e Pars" depicts lady friends gathered together in a Qajar garden in Shiraz of over 100 years ago moving to correct and pure classical Persian music performed by Katherine St. John's Eastern Arts from WorlDance. (The first minute or so appear dull because the dance takes place behind a filmy curtain. The image improves drastically once the curtain is lifted.)
I know I have been very bad recently! If someone had told me just a few months ago that someday I would be skipping my daily posts and neglecting my blog comments, I would have never believed him! But my life has become so complicated all of a sudden! I have been working on some piled up commitments which I had neglected due to my trip and a weekend which was filled with activity and left me breathless. I have also had guests visiting from other parts of the world, which has been great but distracting me from my routine. Anyhow, this is just to let you all know that I'm well and kicking, and that I miss you all very much. Thank you everybody who worried about my disappearance! Heeh! It's good to be missed. If I can, I will write another post tonight because I have some pictures I want to share with you. I keep flicking that camera with all the different visiting guests and friends as my subjects, and I seldom use those photographs which is a shame (no, I won't give them to others to post everywhere, either, so don't ask!). I will go to the airport tonight after work to pick up another dear guest, this one my dear cousin, Mahtab, about whom I had written not too long ago. I can't wait to see her. I will write again tonight. Be good you all and have a good Thursday evening.