From Berkeley

Joy on a hilltop

2011-05-27T01:35:00.000-07:00

I was 12 when my mother was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I remember the confusion that reigned in our household, which my mother used to manage with utmost precision. The perfectly maintained yard, the beautifully decorated and maintained house, the well-stocked pantry and kitchen, the pristine guest bedding, and all that went into the affairs of a family with eight children, all of it fell by the wayside and took a second seat to the health of my mother who, at only 40, was alternatively in excruciating pain or under heavy medication. For several months, all of us, along with the household staff, who were with the family for years, looked confused and dazed, in need of instructions, which used to be issued by my mother in frequent orders but which all of a sudden had stopped. My father was the first one to realize that my mother was not going to "get better" soon.

I remember the day he called me and four of my sisters into a room and closed the door. He said that while he was going to be looking for the best possible medical attention for our mother, he was looking to us to make sure that the household would remain in good shape, so that my mother would not be saddened by the chaos, which had become an everyday occurrence in our home. So, I learned how to cook when I was 12. I learned to set the table, cut fresh roses from the yard and put them in vases, and I learned to do the mundane things, to even tell my younger sisters to make sure they brushed their teeth every night.

As the degenerative disease claimed more and more of my mother's abilities and health, I, along with my father and my sisters, learned to throw parties on my mother's behalf, cook huge meals, and entertain, all so that my mother would not miss her happy and bustling household in which frequent parties were held. I think we did quite well.

We also learned to take care of my mother. We tried to do everything we could do for her, everything from massaging her aching body to handing her medication. We gradually learned to bathe her, change her clothes, feed her, and care for her. I don't know why taking care of her never felt like a chore to me. I mean, I was doing the physical work, but somehow, she never felt like a sick or disabled person, an invalid, to me. Taking care of her became an extension of our love for her, to the point where in our comings and goings into a room, for example, we also did my mother's maintenance without thinking about it. It must have been her sharp mind and the bigger-than-life presence of her soul in the middle of our lives that kept us from noticing or remembering her growing physical limitations. When I look back, all I can remember is light and lightness, laughter and immense fun in her presence. I am aware now that somewhere in between the words and the laughter, I must have brushed her hair and changed her clothes, but I can't really remember the details, they were unimportant.

Some of the best memories I have of my mother are from the mid-1980's when my father and she used to come to stay with us in the US six months of the year, spending the other six months in Iran near my other siblings. I remember one time I made an optometrist appointment for her at UC Berkeley's Optometry School. On a gorgeous spring day, she and I set out for the doctor's visit. We left my tiny cottage near downtown Berkeley to "walk" up to UC Berkeley's Optometry Clinic. To be more precise, she was in her wheelchair and I was pushing her up a steep sidewalk in Berkely. It was a serious effort, which grew harder and harder as we entered the campus and then had to navigate more and more hills, but we were talking and laughing and having a good time despite my huffing and puffing.

When we finally made it to the clinic they gave my mother a thorough eye examination, including the part where they dropped something into her eyes to make them dilate for a thorough check up, and then gave her one of those disposable paper sunglasses that are supposed to help protect the dilated eyes against bright light. The two of us then started our trip back home, this time mainly going downhill. At first I was enjoying the ease of it, remembering how hard it was to push the wheelchair up the hill. But then the hills started getting steeper, and it was a chore to control the wheelchair from taking off! Moment by moment, the wheelchair picked up speed and I had to push the emergency break a few times to slow down its momentum. My sweet mother was sitting in the wheelchair, saying nothing, but laughing to my jokes as I was struggling with the task at hand. She had her paper sunglasses on and our speed had already blown her headscarf back to her shoulders and her gorgeous curly hair, which I had dyed myself, was now in motion in the wind.

So, we went down one hill and up another and then climbed it up to the top, till finally we came to the top of the steepest one. Looking all the way to the bottom of the hill, I knew it was going to be near impossible to control the wheelchair. I looked at my mother and I couldn't see her eyes behind the paper sunglasses, but the rest of her face seemed peaceful and a smile remained dancing in the corner of her lips. I said: "Mom, are you ready for this ride?" And she simply said: "Yes." I took one more look at the open space ahead, all the way to the bottom of the hill, jumped on the back of her wheelchair to make it heavier and hopefully weigh it down some, and let it go. The moving apparatus glided down the hill and the two of us were screaming our heads off with exhilaration and joy, the wind blowing our hair and energizing our smiles. I remember laughing and I remember my mom making noises people would make on a roller coaster! We finally made it to the bottom of the hill in one piece, totally euphoric.

My mother passed away in 1996, due to complications caused by taking cortisone for years. If I must remember her illness and caring for her, this is the memory I most profoundly remember--my mother and her wheelchair, which became a toy, an extension of the two of us in celebrating how beautiful our lives were together. She never was a burden, my partner in joy, my mother.

First published here, in response to an invitation to write about caring for elderly parents.

2010-11-08T22:39:00.000-08:00

Mendocino County, California, a vineyard after harvest, November 2010

One Rubai from Omar Khayyam for you:

Literal Translation:

Khayam, if you are intoxicated with wine, enjoy!

If you are seated with a lover of thine, enjoy!

In the end, the Void the whole world employ

Imagine thou art not, while waiting in line, enjoy!

Meaning:

In life devote yourself to joy and love

Behold the beauty of the peaceful dove

Those who live, in the end must all perish

Live as if you are already in heavens above.

Fitzgerald:

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,

End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes-

Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what

Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.

Source: Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

Farewell Hannibal Alkhas

2010-11-07T16:44:00.000-08:00

For Buna Alkhas:

I went to a memorial service for Iranian (Assyrian) artist, Hannibal Alkhas last evening. I listened to his son, Buna, and his daughter talk about their father, among a dozen other students, friends, and admirers of Hannibal Alkhas. Buna's speech particularly moved me. He spoke about his father in the same style as he does his writing and drawing--simply, honestly, and poetically. I really wanted to spend more time with Buna and his handsome son, but time was short as he will be returning home tomorrow.

Since I heard of the great painter's passing, I have had a certain sadness, a sense of personal loss, which has been hard to fathom and convey. I mean I never met him, even though several months ago I had asked Bella how to go about finding him and talking to him. I am so sad I didn't do it. My sense of loss may also have something to do with the painting above. This is a small painting he did in Berkeley in 2001. This sketch and another have been two of my most prized possessions for the past several years. This one has been particularly dear to me, because I believe it to portray me, "The Asymmetrical Woman." He has written at the bottom of the sketch, "Who said only symmetry is beautiful?"

After last night, I feel closer to the artist who drew me without having ever met me, The Asymmetrical Woman! People just couldn't stop talking about how kind and loving and fun he was. My sense of loss at Mr. Alkhas' passing grew last night. But I felt privileged to have listened to his son and daughter talk so lovingly about him. Those of you who have read Buna Nameh have already seen Buna's love for his father, while the great artist was still alive. Those of you who have not read Buna Nameh must absolutely read it. It is probably one of the most original and fantastic things that was ever published on Iranian.com. In a part of his poignant eulogy for his father, Buna read this poem (page 189).

Rest in peace Master Alkhas.

In the company of friends--a reading of “Copenhagen”

2010-07-09T14:32:00.000-07:00

I’ll have to warn you--this may look like I am showing off! I promise I can’t help it this time! This Saturday, July 10, 2010, I am going to a very special event. Three of my friends are reading Copenhagen, a play by Michael Frayn, translated into Farsi by another friend of mine! What’s more, the venue for the event is Central Stage, which is managed by another one of my friends! And guess what?! In all likelihood, the cozy and warm theater will be filled with many of my other friends!

Showing off aside, for those who live in this area and have a chance to come join me (and my friends!), there is something really special in store. Director Hamid Ehya’s translation of Copenhagen won the award for “Best Translated Play” from Iranian Playwrights’ Association in 2009. The readers will be Ari Siletz, Bella Warda, and Behzad Golmohammadi. Actor and director Mansour Taeed will be hosting the reading at Central Stage at 5221 Central Avenue in Richmond, CA 94804 at 8:00 p.m.

I hope you can join us if you live in this area. It will be a night to remember!

Copenhagen is a highly acclaimed two-act play by Michael Frayn, about a discussion among the Danish physicist Niels Bohr (1885-1962), his wife, Margrethe Bohr, and the German physicist Werner Heisenberg.

Niels Bohr received a Nobel Prize in Physics in 1922 for his contribution to understanding atomic structure and quantum mechanics. Werner Heisenberg was awarded the 1932 Nobel Prize in Physics for the creation of quantum mechanics and its application. Niels Bohr was a prominent scientist in Denmark whose life was in danger because he was half Jewish. Heisenberg was a high-ranking physicist in Nazi Germany. Both men had the theoretical knowledge of how to create a nuclear bomb. They were once on the same side of the scientific pursuit, but now stood on opposite sides of the war. During the course of the play, the two scientists go through what went on in a meeting at Bohr’s home.

Please see the reading's Facebook page.

Music of Hope

2010-03-09T18:22:00.000-08:00

This is my friend Parisa Vaaleh. On very short notice, she performed at an International Women's Day rally in San Jose this past Sunday. She has many beautiful songs in her two albums, but chose to sing Ostaad Shajarian's Iran, Ey Saraay-e Omid for the occasion. She has a lovely voice and an absolutely beautiful soul. She is one of my best friends in the world, full of compassion, kindness, and generosity. This clip is an amateur video and she will probably get mad at me for posting it here! Heeh! I'm sure she will forgive me, though! I'll be back with a story for you.

Finding Mir Hossein

2010-02-15T02:02:00.000-08:00

On the eve of Iranian presidential elections in June, a black cat showed up to our household. He sat on our front porch and refused to leave. More than once he followed the incoming crowd into the house whereupon I screamed "Get that cat out of my house!" I was not interested in having a new pet and I knew that the cat which seemed loving and comfortable next to perfect strangers was a house cat which must have gone AWOL on a loving family who must now be frantically looking for him. I told my son to let him stay outside, so that his family can locate him if they went by our house. My younger son kept feeding the cat and naturally, he would not leave. I made "Cat Found" signs and posted them in the neighborhood and the neighbor next door posted a "Cat Found" announcement on Craig's List. Nothing doing. No one came looking for the cat. I made my son take him to the local animal shelter to see if anybody was looking for him. Nobody was, according to my son, who had decided to return the cat upon receiving the news.

During this time, the elections had happened in Iran, people had shown up to street protests, and Neda and some other protesters had died before my very eyes on YouTube. I can barely remember a sadder time in my life. Sitting at my dining table, working and writing, crying tears of loss, confusion, and anger, suddenly I did not mind seeing the black cat come in and sitting on the floor next to my feet. I reached for him and he immediately hopped on my lap, where he sat and made me fall in love with him through my tears.

I named him Mir Hossein.

The cat became a member of our family. Loving, peaceful, and low maintenance, he quickly surpassed my last cat, Asghar, in popularity and familial love. He followed me everywhere and always sat where he could keep an eye on me. In many ways he was like a dog, attentive, kind, and loving. My friend Maryam said later that he is a Maine Coon, a particularly loving species of cats.

In January, I went on a three-week business trip to Washington DC. Staying away from home, I was missing my family, friends, and Mir Hossein so much. I couldn't wait to get back. I returned looking forward to having my cat by my side to remind me about the simple joys of life and all that I love and hold dear in the Bay Area.

Alas, things were not that simple. My son informed me upon my return that Mir Hossein had gone missing for 48 hours and that he had been actively looking for him in the neighborhood, without any positive results. After a couple of days went by without spotting our black cat, he posted "Missing Cat" signs in the neighborhood and told all the neighbors to be on the lookout for him. By the week's end, he had visited all the animal shelters in our neighborhood and the next ones over, to see if anybody had turned him in. Nothing doing.

I refused to put his food bowl and bed away, waiting for him to return. "He will come back," I kept saying, but feeling less and less hopeful.

Yesterday, the next door neighbor called to say that she could hear a cat in the vacant house next door. We went to the door and could see Mir Hossein's black face with the one tiny round white spot right under his nose through the side glass window. Oh My! He was alive and well! We located and contacted the real estate agency which had listed the home. The firm's office manager showed up with a key and let Mir Hossein out. She said he must have quietly walked in behind the realtor the last time he had shown the house some sixteen days ago.

The cat had lost considerable weight and was anxious. For the first time since I had met him I found out that he had very sharp claws which he used on anyone who came close to him. He must have been able to drink water from the toilet bowls in the house, but naturally, he had not eaten in sixteen days. He ate and ate and ate and I was standing by, waiting to take him to the vet if he started getting sick, which he never did. Later in the day he finally calmed down and went to sleep.

As I write, my sweet cat is sleeping in his bed next to me. When I finish posting this blog and turn off the lights to go to bed, he will follow me and curling up in my bed, he will put his right paw on my face and go back to sleep, as he is used to doing.

I am one lucky woman today. I have found Mir Hossein.

Music in the kitchen

2010-02-11T20:41:00.000-08:00

I live with two men. They are tall and handsome. They are wise and kind. Nobody in this world would probably ever love these men as much as I do, for I am their mother.

They come and go, eat, sleep, watch TV, study, fight, make up, laugh, and on increasing occasions, feel in love with or heartbroken by a woman. We are a normal family or not. I don't know, and I don't care. I care that I live with two good men. They are good to me, to each other, and to their friends.

More than once, I have asked myself whether I have done a good job in raising my children so that they are sure and grounded with their identities, their roots, their heritage, and the world that could benefit so much from people like them who know more than one language, have traveled extensively since they were infants, and who have compassion for mankind world over. Time will tell what kind of human beings they will be. To be sure, for now they are both understated and humble adults, just as I like to see adults.

I was sitting at my usual spot, working on my computer as usual this evening. My younger son and his friend Farhad arrived and went directly to the refrigerator, looking for food. I guess my son was really happy to find decent food in the house! As he pulled out the tub of chicken salad and started making himself and his friend a sandwich, I heard him whisper a tune. How sweet! He is singing, I thought momentarily and forgot all about it. A few seconds later, though, the notes from his song made it into my consciousness and heart and gave me a jolt. What is he singing? Is that a Hayedeh song he is whispering?!!! Hayedeh?!!! Hayedeh died in the same year my son was born, you know? My son likes Hayedeh?!! How come?!! Where did this come from? When did this happen?!

I sat here till he finished making his sandwich and whispering his song and go to join Farhad in the other room. I found the Haydeh song and listened to it. The experience moved me enough to come back to writing in my blogs tonight. It has been too long. I miss writing and I miss my friends. Here, listen to the song with me. I feel so good tonight. To be sure, for well over a year, I have not been as happy as I am these days. Things are going my way again. I will write again soon.

Legendary Iranian singer, Hayedeh sings "vay be halesh. (too bad for him)" Music is by Farid Zoland, arrangement by Andranik, Lyrics are by Leila Kasra (Hedieh).

Till He Comes

2009-11-28T20:55:00.000-08:00

Iranian music ensemble, Dang Show, play an interesting and different rendition of an old Iranian song, "Migoreezad," which is based on an old Azerbaijan folk song, Sari Galin. Very refreshing and different. I loved their new music. I hope they go far.

Crater

2009-11-28T20:44:00.000-08:00

"There's a small hole in my heart

Around which sadness sits these days."

"I hope the hole in your heart would heal soon."

Crackles and static

"Aha's," and silences

Sobs muffled

Worried eyes hidden

Shaking hands concealed

Aching arms

Without a chance for an embrace

Botched goodbyes

A crater sits

Where there once was a hole.

November 2009

San Francisco, California

I Am Your Man

2009-11-13T15:37:00.000-08:00

Going to see Leonard Cohen!

2009-11-12T12:33:00.000-08:00

I am soooo excited! I have an invitation to go see Leonard Cohen tomorrow night! I'm soooo excited!

Sholeh Zard and Philosophy

2009-10-17T23:48:00.000-07:00

So, I am turning a year older this weekend. I don't particularly wish to be reminded of it, not so much because I care that I am older, but because the extra attention usually embarrasses me! All day today I had to stay home and prepare an important project for a deadline. My kids went to celebrate their youth and Mir Hossein (our cat) and I spent the evening together, where I worked and he took a nap! Just to take advantage of the time, and also to prepare a dessert to take to my friends' house tomorrow night, I started making Sholeh Zard.* Here's a picture of my work in progress as of 30 minutes ago.

My cousin, Azar, had called and left me a message yesterday. She said she had dreamt of my mother. She said my mother had been in a lavish party in my house, where everyone was very happy, celebrating something. All day today I remembered my mother and missed her, but was happy to know that she is with me. I'm not sure what my mother was celebrating, but I am sure of what I celebrate in my home tonight. I celebrate a life full of wonderful experiences, good friends, loving family, and hope. Yeah, I have noticed the double chin and the small wrinkles around my eyes, too! But hey, those are my medallions which remind me just how long I have been around with all the different chances I have had at a good life. For the new year in my life, as in the year past, I don't wish for things and money. I wish for health and peace on earth. I wish for freedom for Iran and for hope for America. Things which are priceless and which can make for more hopeful nations. Hopeful nations can achieve anything. That's my wish.

*I looked for Sholeh Zard recipes in English. There were tens of options available, but none of them seemed to quite prepare it like I do. This one is the least different from how I prepare it.

Nostalgic Today

2009-10-15T17:40:00.000-07:00

I found this sweet video clip and I would like to share it with you. A Canada-based band named HamAva has performed Simin Ghanem's 1975 song, Parandeh, The Bird. It is a really beautiful song, full of personal nostalgia for me. The singer does a very good job of singing a song originally performed by what must be one of the most powerful female voices in the history of Iranian music. She doesn't take chances with an imitation, but stays true to the music, sounding sweet and vulnerable. I searched for this HamAva band, but couldn't find anything on them. If any of my friends in Canada know about them, please do share

If you want, you can listen to the original rendition of this song by Simin Ghanem here. Believe it or not, this song was written by Hassan Shamaizadeh. What has happened to that great music man?! How come we never hear songs like this from him any more? This is all we hear from him these days! Nothing wrong with it, but he is capable of so much more. I mean there are thousands of composers who can write this, but not nearly enough who can write this. Just wondering!

History Written on Clay

2009-10-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

I went to listen to Professor Matthew Stolper's very engaging lecture about the Persepolis tablets at UC Berkeley this afternoon. What a nice and funny man this very distinguished scholar is!

Since I posted my earlier blog about the lecture, I have heard from a very interesting man by the name of Mr. Charles Ellwood Jones. It is an honor to find out about people who have so much interest in Iranian heritage which is now really world heritage. In his profile, Mr. Jones says: "I am the Librarian at the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World at NYU. From July 2005 to February 2008 I was the Head Librarian at the Blegen Library of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Before moving to Athens I spent twenty-two years as the Librarian at the Oriental Institute, The University of Chicago."

You can follow news about the Persepolis tablets and developments in the case through Persepolis Fortification Archive Project's blogs here. Before I left I told Professor Stolper how proud I was of his life's work, dedicated to research about Iran, thanking him for all his hard work.

UC Berkeley Lecture: Embattled Tablets

2009-10-13T23:06:00.000-07:00

You can't love Iran and not care about what has been happening over the past few years with respect to the priceless Persepolis tablets in custoday of University of Chicago's Oriental Institute. A lawsuit threatens to claim the priceless collection which has been kept on loan from the Iranian government since 1933. Those tablets belong to Iran and to humanity. They should never be considered the appropriate medium of severance pay to anyone. If the Iranian government is found guilty of any crime in a court of law, they should be responsible for monetary payment of damages. These tablets or any Iranian heritage artifacts are not suitable choices for settling such liabilities.

Tomorrow, Wednesday, October 14, 2009 at 4:00 p.m. Professor Matthew Stolper from University of Chicago's Oriental Institute will give a lecture entitled "Embattled Tablets: News from the Persepolis Fortification Archive Front" at UC Berkeley's Department of Near Eastern Studies, 254 Barrows Hall. I am going to attend this lecture. If you live in these parts and you can, please come and join me.

Photo shows Professor Matthew Stolper examining one of the Persepolis tablets.

Here's an excerpt from a 2006 article about the collection and the impending case. You can read the full article here.

"In a small, dark room on the Oriental Institute’s third floor, Matthew Stolper puts thousands of ancient Iranian tablets under the microscope. Studying the unbaked clay artifacts over the course of 25 years, Stolper, the John A. Wilson professor of Near Eastern languages & civilizations, has translated many of the tablets—their slanted lines are mostly Elamite cuneiform. Taken together, the circa-500 bc documents from the ancient capital Persepolis—excavated by OI archaeologist Ernest Herzfeld in 1933—form the “records of one office palace bureaucracy handing out basic foodstuffs,” Stolper says. “Food, wine, grain.” The records follow “people traveling through the region on business from the Mediterranean coast to India: ‘So-and-so gets so much barley and so much beer.’ When you connect them all, you get a complicated network.”

"If a group of litigants gets its way, the tablets may be split up and sold at auction, the proceeds compensating survivors of a 1997 Hamas suicide bombing in Jerusalem. Five American survivors and four family members won a 2001 U.S. court case against Iran, which trained and supported the terrorists, and were awarded more than $400 million in damages. Because Iran doesn’t accept U.S. court jurisdiction, the plaintiffs’ lawyer looked elsewhere for assets: American museums holding Iranian artifacts." (Read the rest here.)

Autumn Around Me

2009-10-13T13:39:00.000-07:00

This is my season. Something about the Fall makes me happy, energetic, and very very romantic! These days I am spending a lot of time in my home. I am glad to report that my surroundings are better organized than they have been in a long time and my kids are fed generally better food! Northern California autumns aren't quite like they are on the East Coast or where there are the four seasons. We only get specks and small splashes of color and folliage in our area. Just the same, it is evident if you look for it. Here's a picture I took of the trees just outside my house yesterday. You can see the specks and splashes of color changes.

And of course it won't be a proper autumn without a pumpkin. More decorations will be coming soon! See? We do have color changes on the leaves! Beautiful!

This is how autumn happens in a pot! I love those heart-shaped leaves!

And last but not least, blessed is a home on a rainy autumn day which has a sweet cat asleep nearby, delicious tea brewed, and love of family surrounding its every corner.

I have such a home. As I take stock of my "harvest" for this year, despite some losses and setbacks, I have to admit that I continue to have it really good in life! I am grateful for my gifts in life. Looking back at my life, I see it was a great idea to plant those seeds of love wherever I could. My harvest again this year is plentiful, complete, and continuous. Happy Autumn y'all!

Aah Mother...

2009-10-11T18:55:00.000-07:00

Can’t begin to imagine

Can’t begin to feel

Mother’s loss

Mother’s rage

...

Boy smiles

Boy walks

Boy tells of school and marbles

Mother’s delight

Mother’s love

...

Boy loves

Boy hurts

Boy laughs

Mother’s pride

Mother’s love

...

Boy goes

Returns never

Boy is dead

Mother’s loss

...

Boy repents

Boy cries

Boy implores

Mother’s rage

...

Boy and noose

Mother’s doubts

...

Boy and prison

Boy and pain

Boy and shame

Mother’s choice

...

Boy and noose

Mother and bench

Boy and life

Boy and death

Mother and memories

Mother and rage

...

Boy and airborne bench

Mother and revenge

Boy suspended

Boy ended

Mother’s moment

Mother’s remorse

...

Two boys dead

Two boys gone

All mothers’ loss

All mothers’ shame

Read here for Behnoud Shojaie's story.

From Grieving Mother to Murderer

2009-10-11T16:10:00.000-07:00

I am appalled with Behnoud’s execution. There is no way anyone can convince me that this child did not have the potential to rehabilitate. I am mother to two young men. I can tell you beyond the shadow of a doubt that a seventeen year old boy is a child. Behnoud was a child offender and still a child when he was executed after spending four years in jail and walking up to the noose six times. My mother’s heart says that to me.

The victim, Ehsan, was also a child. My heart wept for his mother who saw her son off one day and never saw him alive again. I cannot begin to imagine what pain and agony she must have gone through over the past four years. The worst thing anyone could have done for Ehsan’s mother was to let her decide the life and death of her son’s murderer, Behnoud. As if dealing with the immense loss is not bad enough for a grieving mother, she has had to continually search her soul for forgiveness for Behnoud. As it turned out, she could not find it.

I feel so sad for Ehsan’s mother. She will never be whole again. She is now a murderer herself. True, the law won’t come after her and she can live just like any other citizen for the rest of her life. But I am a mother and I know that by choosing revenge over forgiveness, Ehsan’s mother has forever put herself in the solitary confinement of loss, grief, shame, and remorse. Whereas up until yesterday Ehsan’s family had been affected with the unimaginable grief of a child’s loss, starting today they will have to carry the burden of having taken another person’s life. Ehsan’s mother will soon know, if not already, that Behnoud’s death is not going to bring Ehsan back, nor make her cope with his loss any better. I can only imagine that that family is now completely destroyed.

Death penalty is inhumane and Qisas Laws are savage. My heart weeps for Ehsan and Behnoud. My heart weeps for Iran.

Dinner, Art, And Friendship

2009-10-11T01:54:00.000-07:00

O.K. I am going to keep my promise and slowly start to tell you what I have been up to over the past few months! To start, I am going to look at my millions of photographs and share the interesting ones with you. These are pictures from dinner preparations at my artist friends Faranak and Kourosh's home in San Jose. I had the good fortune of being invited to their lovely home in September, along with a very small group. Kourosh was the chef and I want to show you what artistic dinner he served us!

First he prepared the plates with endive leaves, filled with seafood. He and Faranak had made a very delicious mashed potatoes, too. String beans were added to enhance the presentation color and taste. An art project was unfolding before our eager eyes in the kitchen! Grilled salmon was added last, and the plates were painted with a balsamic vinegar sauce. Watch Kourosh add the parsley garnish, too!

We sat around and enjoyed the delicious and beautiful food and the wonderful company, talking about politics and life, telling jokes, and chilling. It was really a wonderful evening. A big blessing in life is having good friends and finding opportunities to to build new friendships. The art and the delicious food are only an added bonus! And of course, knowing a man who can cook like this is not to be underestimated as a personal treasure! I am so lucky!

مهر

2009-10-10T01:10:00.000-07:00

این عکس از مجموعهء عکس هایی است که کسی در خوزستان گرفته است. آن را از سایت ایرانیان برداشته ام. برای دیدن عکس های بیشتری از عکاس، به صفحهء پیکاسای وی مراجعه کنید.

مسعود عزیز می گوید :

سلام ای کسی که یادی نمی کنی از کسی حتی به یک کلیک!نمی گویی در این خراب شده چه بر سر فلانی و بهمانی آمده است؟از خودت هم که چیزی نمی نویسی الا با قطره چکان.از آغاز رکود اقتصادی اشاره ای به مشکلاتت داشتی ولی دیگر خبری ندارم چه می کنی و در چه حالی هستی.روبراهی؟در این ایام نکبت بار اما امیدوار،راستش حوصله نوشتن هم سلب شده است.گویی فریز شده ایم.اخیراً داستانکی خواندم از احوال هموطنان غربت نشین که در آن یکی به دیگری می گفت:تا بزبان مادریت ننویسی در میهنت کودکی به دنیا نمی آید.حرف غریبی است ولی محض رضای خدا هم که شده دوکلوم فارسی بنویسحرفی بزنخطی بکش.
و من می گویم امشب به فارسی می نویسم تا در میهنم کودکان زیبا به دنیا بیایند. من ایرانیم. معلوم است که به فارسی می نویسم. فقط در این خانه به انگلیسی می نویسم تا حرف کودکان و زنان و مردان زیبای ایران را به دیگران، به غیر فارسی زبانان هم بگویم. مسعود عزیز بداند که لحظه ای از فکر ایران و هموطنانم دور نیستم. این روزها همه کمی کلافه و نگران هستیم اما نباید یادمان برود که ظرف چند روز کوتاه در تابستان امسال، ملت زیبای ایران چه رشید و چه شجاع و چه صلح دوست به چشم همهء جهانیان آمد. این روزگار نیز می گذرد و به روزهای بهتری خواهیم پیوست. امشب حافظ را باز کردم و این آمد:

چو باد عزم سر کوی یار خواهم کرد

نفس ببوی خوشش مشکبار خواهم کرد

بهرزه بی می و معشوق عمر میگذرد

بطالتم بس از امروز کار خواهم کرد

هر آب روی که اندوختم ز دانش و دین

نثار خاک ره آن نگار خواهم کرد

چو شمع صبحدمم شد ز مهر او روشن

که عمر در سر این کار و بار خواهم کرد

بیاد چشم تو خود را خراب خواهم ساخت

بنای عهد قدیم استوار خواهم کرد

صبا کجاست که این جان خون گرفته چو گل

فدای نکهت گیسوی یار خواهم کرد

نفاق و زرق نبخشد صفای دل حافظ

طریق رندی و عشق اختیار خواهم کرد

با آرزوی پاییزی سرشار از امید و برداشت خرمنهای مهر و دوستی، شاد و سرزنده باشید دوستان عزیزم

نازی

Of Hope

2009-10-10T00:30:00.000-07:00

Mohsen Namjoo and Golshifteh Farahani sing "hammash delam migireh" (I long all the time) in Milan Italy. I love Namjoo.

It's Friday night. I know I have been lazy in keeping up my blogs. I have been writing, but not here. I'm going to write again. I have missed it too much. So much has happened that I haven't told you about, mostly good things. I've had to learn more than a few lessons since April of this year when I was laid off my job. I have had to adjust to some major and some minor changes, but all good in the end. It's been an emotional time for many Iranians living outside Iran, just as it has been for Iranians inside Iran. There is all at the same time a lot of fear and hope and concern about Iran. I think about my friends in Iran all the time and I follow the news with interest. Certainly nothing is the way it was just a few months ago. I may not have been the only one to go through some changes. I feel the whole world has changed in drastic ways and it will never go back to the way it was. Maybe that's a good and necessary thing. Maybe things always change at this pace and I never took notice before. All I know is that it's not the same as it was before. It is better, I think. It seems to me that everyone in my circle of friends and family is moving forward with a new awareness, with more knowledge. I can only hope that this awareness delivers us all into enlightenment and a more positive state.

It was a calm and quiet Friday night. My sons have already gone to bed and my cat is sleeping right next to me. Namjoo sings and I reflect. Pretty blissful. I want to thank people who came looking for me, banging on my door, sweet Mina, lovely Aida, and the ever thoughtful Masoud. I have missed you all. I'll keep on writing here, sharing pictures and stories from the summer until I catch up. I want to tell you about hope. I want to tell you about love. There is so much I need to tell you. I will.

A New Arrival

2009-10-09T23:53:00.000-07:00

Last June, two nights before the Iranian presidential elections, he showed up at our house. He was sitting on the front walkway, refusing to leave. It was obvious he was a house cat, familiar and comfortable with people. I wouldn't let him in the house, hoping that his owners would come and take him away soon. I know what it feels like to lose a pet, even if temporarily. I wanted him to stay outside so that he could be seen by his owners who must be frantic, I thought.

I had had a painful time separating from our cat, Oskie, or Asghar, when I left Iran in 2006. I still miss my gorgeous "hanaee" (henna colored) cat who is staying with a family in Karaj. But I also knew that I didn't want another pet, not yet. This cat which had invited himself over was getting on my nerves. I could see my younger son getting quickly attached to him and I was desperate to find his family. We posted "Cat Found" signs in our neighborhood. My next door neighbor posted an announcement on Craig's List, and I finally managed to convince my son to take him to the local animal shelter to see if he had an identification chip or if anybody was looking for him. For some strange reason, it turned out that nobody was looking for him. My son left contact information at the animal shelter, but didn't leave him there, bringing him home again.

The events in Iran were unravelling fast, first the elections, then the demonstrations, then the violence, and finally the grief and outrage. My older son joined us and we stood vigil to what was happening in Iran, much like millions of other people in the world alternating between pride and respect and outrage and sadness. The cat stayed and became a member of our family. He is a loving cat, peaceful and trusting of people. He sits by me all the time. This is a picture of him, taken this morning while he was taking a nap by where I sit to work at the dining table. When I get up to go to another part of the house, he follows me and comes to sit wherever I am. He is a new member of our family now. His name is Mir Hossein.

Making music in heaven now

2009-09-22T10:33:00.000-07:00

Iranian composer and santur master, Parviz Meshkatian has passed away. This news made me very sad. I post here the santur piece from his "Dood-e Oud" album, which I believe is the happiest piece of music he wrote. Doud-e Oud was one of the first pieces of music written and performed by Tehran Symphony Orchestra after a four year silence had befallen Iranian music right after the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Iranian music suffered terribly during those years, instruments were broken and musicians were sent into hiding. This album, sung by Master Shajarian, was one of the first musical pieces which were produced to herald the beginning of a new era in Iranian music. That's the kind of musician Parviz Meshkatian was back then, courageous and creative. What a loss for Iran. Here you can listen to Shajarian's "Ay Yousof-e Khoshnam-e Maa" from the same album, this one is a bit melancholic, but it is one of my most favorite pieces of music by Shajarian, on a poem by Molana.

Rest in peace and play music in heaven now.

The One Two Woman

2009-08-14T23:18:00.000-07:00

Santurnavazan Ensemble perform "Ze Ba'ad e Ma," (Beyond our Path) at Tehran University's College of Literature, 2005. This beautiful and uplifting piece of music was recommended by my friend, Bahram. Lovely and interesting variation on the way a Santur is played. Great work!

I threw the dice

Watching the result

A one and a two

I looked at you

And you looked embarrassed

After all your doubles

I smiled

Making do with the tiny move

Saying:

"I'll take it!

Better move like a turtle

Than to remain stagnant."

You looked puzzled

For the joy exploding nearby

In the form of a big smile

On the face of the woman

Celebrating her one and two.

I played backgammon in the moonlight last night. It was great fun, said the One Two Woman.

To Do List

2009-08-09T10:35:00.000-07:00

My friend Rojan performs a new rendition of the old-time Iranian song, Morgh-e Sahar. You can see more of her music here (I love this one! It makes me so happy every time I listen to it.) and here, where she performs with Pournazeri brothers of Shams Ensemble.

It's Sunday. My older son is home for the weekend. A cup of tea, a window to the green branches of the tall trees outside my window, and a whole day of planned chores await me. I'm still buzzed with a writing class I attended yesterday. I have several pieces of writing in the works and just as soon as I have made a dent in my endless list of long-postponed projects today, I will get busy with the writing. I plan on leaving at least one of them here. I hope you all have a peaceful Sunday. Go and embrace and kiss all those who matter to you in your life. That is the number one item on top of my "To Do" list today. It's been too long.

Time for Freedom

2009-08-06T13:34:00.000-07:00

Iranian American duo, Mozane, perform "Time for Freedom." Here's their MySpace page. Nice song. I'll be along later to write something. Have a beautiful day/evening everybody!

From San Francisco To Kashan

2009-08-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

My friend, filmmaker Sabereh Kashi, has an exciting new film project in the works. Here is a first version of her film, "My Home of the Last Seven Millenia." In it she tells the tale of her return to Kashan from San Francisco, in search of a childhood memory. Congratulations to sweet Sabereh for her amibitious and loving project.

(Does anybody know what to do with the "chopped off" display screen of YouTube links on blogspot?)

Lunch with Lotfi

2009-07-28T14:39:00.001-07:00

One day last week I went to have lunch with my friend, Professor Lotfi Zadeh, in Berkeley. I picked him up in his office on campus. I have written about him before. Inventor of "fuzzy logic," Lotfi is a Professor Emeritus at Berkeley's EECS department. He still goes to work everyday, keeping with his huge network of contacts worldwide. As charming and dashingly clothed as ever, my 88-year-old friend made me laugh and think as is a tradition between us. We had Prsian food at Alborz and talked about the Iranian elections and what is happening in Iran. With his very philosophical view on life, he made light of a grim situation.

Lotfi is originally from Baku, Azerbaijan, though he was raised in Iran, where he attended school and university. His anecdotes, reflective of his wonderful sense of humor, always includes something about Russia and Russians. He told me a joke about the 1996 Russian elections during which Boris Yeltsin was re-elected. He said as the polls had closed and they were counting the votes, a Yeltsin aide came to see him late at night and said: "Sir, I have good news and bad news." Yeltsin asked him to give him the bad news first. The aide said "The bad news is that your opponent has 60% of the votes." Distraught, Yeltsin asked: "What's the good news, then?" His aide said: "The good news is that we've got 80% of the votes!"

Lotfi is a delight! We spent a good time talking about life, relationships, and politics. Disarmed again with his wisdom and charm, I can't wait go see him again.

You can read the other posts I have written about him here and here.

Last Seen Wearing A Green Ribbon

2009-07-27T01:05:00.000-07:00

The mother looked in

The sleeping child breathing slowly

Face framed by sheets in the dark

Softly she said “Wake up Sohrab”

The day’s hope and excitement ahead

The shower ran

Bread was toasted,

The sound of the slowly boiling kettle

The green ribbon tied

Heralding the start of a momentous day

~ ~ ~

As the crowd flowed and moved through,

Everyone a drop in a sea of green

Taking tiny steps ahead

Shoulder to shoulder

The telegraphic words and looks

Transmitting meanings and messages

Through the deafening roar

A nod of reassurance

A tiny smile

~ ~ ~

The crowd grew greater and wider

And in an errant second they were pulled apart,

Separated by the sea,

Tiny and black clad among the trees,

She watched him happily engulfed, foam on the wave,

She lost sight of him

The crowd took him

And she stood there thinking

“This wholesome crowd will protect him”

“He will be safe”

~ ~ ~

She waited

And waited

And didn’t hear the key turning in the lock

And couldn’t hear his familiar footsteps down the hall

And melancholy swiftly turned to despair,

She became a soldier searching

The young man who was last seen wearing a green ribbon

She looked

High and low

Low and low

She asked “Have you seen my boy?”

“He was wearing a green ribbon”

Days

Weeks

A month

~ ~ ~

The news came

Stark and short

And the crowds gathered again

Hailing the end

Carrying gladiola

Wearing black ribbons

~ ~ ~

The mother looked in

The sleeping boy forgetting to breath

The shroud framing his man’s shape

Softly she said “Wake up Sohrab”

Her life’s dread and grief ahead

As the crowd prayed

The smell of camphor and rosewater

Mixed with the sound of sobs and muffled tears

Marked the start of a barren life

The life of the mother without her son.

For Iran

2009-07-25T03:41:00.000-07:00

U2 perform "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" in solidarity with Iranian people during their 360 degrees world tour in Dublin, Ireland on July, 24th, 2009. Amazing performance.

Today I am going to the San Francisco Mega Rally in solidarity with Iranians. It will be at the Civic Center Plaza on McAllister Street from 12:00 until 4:30 p.m. (catch BART to Civic Center station). Join us if you can. Do it for Iran.

Our Iran

2009-07-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

"The Three Iranian Sopranos," Nasrin Asgari, Shirin Asgari, and Kamelia Dara, perform Iran-e Maa (our Iran) at their 2008 Vancouver concert. The song is composed by Hamid Zargarzadeh. I need to find the poem to this song.

And so, life goes on. For someone who is "in between jobs," I have been terribly busy this summer. It is no longer possible for me to say why my heart has been heavy. Is it my personal stuff and the job situation, or is it what's been happening in Iran? I just know that my heart has been heavy. But everyone's heart has been heavy of late. I'm going to start writing here again. I have a lot to tell you. Soon.

"boro baba!"

2009-07-24T09:00:00.000-07:00

Thursday:

My friend calls and wants to gossip about her coworker. While I am on the phone with her, I have abandoned my feverish hourly search for news and information about Iran, in order to pay full attention to her. I sit there and listen to the same words being repeated over and over again, but I can’t really hear or understand a word of what she is saying. My mind is elsewhere, thousands of miles away, where people are running through the streets, scared. Any moment another one of them may be hit with a bullet. She says: “…and I would like to know why Steve takes issue with my being ten minutes late in the morning but he never asks Tina how come she comes in at 10 at least twice a week... .” And all I want to do is to stop her and this phone call while yelling: “boro baba!”

Friday:

I realize I can’t just sit at home and do nothing other than watching the news. So I agree to go out on a second date with that guy. He is talking about his ex-wife again, the one who hurt and tormented him for years, leaving him scarred and scorched beyond recognition. Somewhere in that long few paragraphs he is uttering he says “and I was wondering whether you would like to come visit my cabin by the ocean some time, maybe next weekend. You know, maybe we can get to know each other better.” And I’m thinking to myself how I would go stir crazy with him and Linda in a cabin, cut off from the world and news about Iran for 48 hours. Though I say something else, something polite, all the while I’m saying in my mind: “boro baba!”

Saturday:

I open the mailbox. There is another offer for free panties from Victoria’s Secret, not to mention a Macy’s discount card for 25% off everything. There is even a card from Clarins summoning me to claim my free facial, free samples, and free gift package. There is a catalogue for courses in my town’s adult education center, and three catalogues from my favorite mail order stores. As I toss everything into trash, remembering the sea of people exposed to sticks and bullets in Iran, I send the vendors a short mental message: “boro baba!”
Sunday:

“What would you like to do for the celebration?” my best friend asks. As she rattles off the options and suggestions, it takes all my might to thank her, ask for a rain check, and postpone all celebrations until a time when I feel able to enjoy the occasion and all the hoopla. Is that a pout on her face? Sheesh, now I have to apologize and explain and justify myself. As I do, I send my friend a cryptic message in my mind: “boro baba!”

Monday:

I show up to the protest and two minutes into the affair I hear two people behind me, fighting over the flag, one insisting to the other that this is not “our flag” or “my flag” or “Iran’s flag,” I can’t remember now which one he says. Standing there, thinking that I have come to the only place where I might feel slightly better, standing next to others who feel the same dread and anxiety as I do, I tell myself how much I wish I didn’t have to utter the words here, too. Alas I have to do it. This time, though, I say the words out loud, “boro baba!” and I’m ready to fight over this, too. I tell the guy to cut it out and let people do whatever makes them feel better, telling him that the other person is free to express himself whichever way he wants and it’s not right for anyone to tell him which flag to like or dislike. I know I am in the right place and in the company of my kin right there and then, when I hear the other guy look me in the eyes and say: “boro baba!”

I published this on iranian.com on July 19, 2009.

Where is my vote?

2009-07-02T10:35:00.000-07:00

People of Holland show their support for people of Iran.

Statement by a group of Iranian bloggers about the Presidential elections and the subsequent events

2009-06-26T01:38:00.000-07:00

۱) ما، گروهی از وبلاگ‌نویسان ایرانی، برخوردهای خشونت‌آمیز و سرکوب‌گرانه‌ی حکومت ایران در مواجهه با راه‌پیمایی‌ها و گردهم‌آیی‌های مسالمت‌آمیز و به‌حق مردم ایران را به شدت محکوم می‌کنیم و از مقامات و مسوولان حکومتی می‌خواهیم تا اصل ۲۷ قانون اساسی جمهوری اسلامی ایران را -که بیان می‌دارد «تشكيل‏ اجتماعات‏ و راه‌ پيمايی‌ها، بدون‏ حمل‏ سلاح‏، به‏ شرط آن‏‌که‏ مخل‏ به‏ مبانی‏ اسلام‏ نباشد، آزاد است» رعایت کنند.

۲) ما قانون‌ شکنی‌های پیش‌آمده در انتخابات ریاست جمهوری و وقایع غم‌انگیز پس از آن را آفتی بزرگ بر جمهوریت نظام می‌دانیم و با توجه به شواهد و دلایل متعددی که برخی از نامزدهای محترم و دیگران ارائه داده‌اند، تخلف‌های عمده و بی‌سابقه‌ی انتخاباتی را محرز دانسته، خواستار ابطال نتایج و برگزاری‌ی مجدد انتخابات هستیم.

۳) حرکت‌هایی چون اخراج خبرنگاران خارجی و دستگیری روزنامه‌نگاران داخلی، سانسور اخبار و وارونه جلوه دادن آن‌ها، قطع شبکه‌ی پیام کوتاه و فیلترینگ شدید اینترنت نمی‌تواند صدای مردم ایران را خاموش کند که تاریکی و خفقان ابدی نخواهد بود. ما حکومت ایران را به شفافیت و تعامل دوستانه با مردم آن سرزمین دعوت کرده، امید داریم در آینده شکاف عظیم بین مردم و حکومت کم‌تر شود.

پنجم تیرماه ۱۳۸۸ خورشیدی

بخشی از جامعه‌ی بزرگ وبلاگ‌نویسان ایرانی

Statement by a group of Iranian bloggers about the Presidential elections and the subsequent events:

1) We, a group of Iranian bloggers, strongly condemn the violent and repressive confrontation of Iranian government against Iranian people's legitimate and peaceful demonstrations and ask government officials to comply with Article 27 of the Islamic Republic of Iran's Constitution which emphasizes "Public gatherings and marches may be freely held, provided arms are not carried and that they are not detrimental to the fundamental principles of Islam."

2) We consider the violations in the presidential elections, and their sad consequences a big blow to the democratic principles of the Islamic Republic regime, and observing the mounting evidence of fraud presented by the candidates and others, we believe that election fraud is obvious and we ask for a new election.

3) Actions such as deporting foreign reporters, arresting local journalists, censorship of the news and misrepresenting the facts, cutting off the SMS network and filtering of the internet cannot silence the voices of Iranian people as no darkness and suffocation can go on forever. We invite the Iranian government to honest and friendly interaction with its people and we hope to witness the narrowing of the huge gap between people and the government.

A part of the large community of Iranian bloggers

June 26, 2009

Peace for Iran

2009-06-23T10:07:00.000-07:00

American rapper Wyclef Jean sings for Iran and Iranians.

Mohammad, Be Safe

2009-06-19T22:26:00.000-07:00

This is Mohammad. He is one of my regular readers. I received a note from one of his Facebook friends today. It said that Mohammad has been missing in Tehran for the past week. Mohammad, full of love and hope for life and for Iran, is missing. I am devastated. What can I do? How can I help him? I have been sitting here feeling helpless and so, so sad. All I can do is to gather all my might, and send thoughts of love and peace for Mohammad in Tehran. He is not alone. There are hundreds of other people like him who have been arrested over the past week. On this night, I pray for all young people in Iran. I pray that they are safe and strong. I say a special prayer for a good friend, who has so much love and thought to spread, and shouldn't be in a prison. He should be talking about all the wonderful things he knows about Iran. He should be with his family and friends. Prison is for criminals, not for the most beautiful people a nation has. I pray for his safe and speedy return to us. Join me in the prayer if you can. I pray for Iran tonight.

Happiness in a cup

2009-06-13T03:45:00.000-07:00

Caffe macchiato at Musical Offering in Berkeley.

If I could name the shape of happiness,

If I could show the place of happiness,

If I could describe the smell of happiness,

If I could convey the time of happiness,

If I could elaborate the taste of happiness,

I would tell you

That happiness is a cup of caffè macchiato,

At my favorite coffee shop in Berkeley,

With two fresh madeleines,

An internet connection,

And the world in my hands

Maybe sometimes,

Happiness happens on a Saturday,

Even if you stayed home, jobless, the week before

Maybe some days,

Nestled in your chair,

Fighting anxiety and fear,

There might be a message

That stirs excitement and hope

Sprinkles a smile on your face,

And grabs your heart with joy,

At the thought of love.

I did it my way

2009-06-13T03:34:00.000-07:00

I went to vote at the only polling station designated for Northern California this afternoon. There was a huge crowd waiting to vote. Apparently, 800 people had voted in the morning hours and the polling station had run out of ballot sheets by noon. Everyone was told to wait while additional ballot sheets were flown in from Los Angeles. I waited alongside many others for several hours before I was able to cast my vote. People were tired and upset with the inexcusable delay, but they wouldn't leave until they had voted. Even news of Ahmadinejad's win didn't seem to deter anyone from the wait. Several hundred people waited in lines and received tiny slips of paper which showed them entitled to receiving a ballot sheet. I asked an official how many additional ballot sheets had been received and he said "600." So, in all 1,400 people could vote in Northern California today. I don't know whether anyone was turned away when they ran out of the 1,400 ballot sheets, but I was determined to cast my vote, so I waited.

When I finally made it to the room at Emeryville Hilton Hotel to cast my vote, after receiving the stamp in my birth certificate, I was directed to another table where I had to leave a fingerprint on a sheet of paper in return for a ballot. I asked the young man who was taking care of me why the event had been planned so poorly. Afterall, a very large Iranian community lives in my area and they should have anticipated a large turnout. The young man made some apologetic noises and went on to say: "Well, really, I doubt any of this would make that much of a difference, as the results have already been announced." I had bent down to ink my finger when I heard this. Slowly I processed what I had just heard, and straightening up, I said to him: "Young man, you have no right to say that. You are an officer at a polling station which is still open and has to operate according to rules and regulations. I am a voter who is participating in an election. It is quite possibly illegal for you to tell me what you just told me. Furthermore, it is insensitive and inappropriate of you to mock my attempt to vote in an election I see so important, and after waiting for several hours for you to get your act together. Do you see how ridiculous your statement is?" He said: "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

I voted today. Lackluster and seemingly futile, I am not sorry I did. For all the shame and humiliation and concern I have felt over the past four years, the only thing I could do was to cast my one vote. I could do no more. I did it. I don't even have any hopes that my one vote would be counted correctly. But I did the only thing I could do.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdQf_xN_DuU

Elections and Nostalgia

2009-06-11T01:51:00.000-07:00

Sar oomad zemestoon, or Aaftabkaran, an old revolutionary song is played by two young artists. I love this clip!

I know I said this before--just a few seconds ago, as a matter of fact! Please consider participating in the elections on Friday. Cast your vote to be counted. If even for one day, for one hour, for one minute over the past four years you have worried about a possible attack on Iran, if you have felt shame about things that have happened in Iran, about the way Iran has been represented to the world, or for words that were said by someone else but whose weight you have carried, consider participating in the elections and showing that you care. Be responsible and vote. Iran and Iranians inside Iran need you now.

It's Time!

2009-06-11T01:14:00.000-07:00

I am going to vote on Friday, June 12th, 2009. San Francisco Bay Area's polling place information is as follows:

Hilton Garden Inn Bay Bridge

1800 Powell St.

Emeryville, CA 94706

Tel. 510-658-9300

For more information about voting in the US, visit http://www.election88.org/. Make a difference and support the efforts of the millions of young Iranians who have been staying up on the streets, wishing a change.

Following A Bird

2009-06-05T02:17:00.000-07:00

My younger son dragged me on a walk this evening. He thinks I am spending too much time indoors and behind the computer. He is right. It felt good to walk with him, talking about many different things. When we came upon a creek which runs in our neighborhood, we saw this lone bird, taking a bath in the creek. I took this picture with my cell phone. Though it was a huge bird, I'm not sure the picture is indicative of his size. What was amazing about the bird was one thick and long white feather sticking out of the back of its head, quite unique and beautiful! I wondered whether that long white feather meant that this was a middle-aged bird, or a particularly wise and knowing one!

As we stood there watching this bird, I found myself touched by its serenity. All by himself, not a part of a couple or a flock, he seemed to be spending some time reflecting on things! He wasn't in a rush, nor did he appear anxious; he was very peaceful. I did wonder briefly about what would a bird have on his mind! I then decided that it really was none of my business what birds think about! I thought instead that I, too, should get out more and go reflect by a creek! The nature might provide some breathing space, a thinking pad, for me. I think I will start walking regularly again. I need to find that which the bird had found and seemed to be enjoying this evening. I must.

I Will Vote!

2009-06-04T13:58:00.000-07:00

Photo showing spontaneous gathering of young Iranians last night in Tehran, following the live broadcast of a debate between presidential candidates, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Mir Hossein Mousavi. Photo from Fars News Agency, Photographer Javad Moghimi.

Whenever I can vote, I do. It is the only way to be counted. Those who boycott elections are never counted. I think participating in elections, even if we are not entirely pleased with the candidates who have made it on the ballot, is a responsible thing to do. That's what I think! Now I am trying to find out where I can vote in my neighborhood. When I have the information, I will share it here!

The Last Wish

2009-06-03T19:51:00.000-07:00

After living in the US for a number of years, I returned to Iran in the early 1990’s. During my stay, I managed a software company in Tehran . Here’s a memory.

My Accounting Manager informed me that our bookkeeper, Mr. Alizadeh, was continuing to show very poor performance. He was making numerous mistakes and was not making any effort to improve his performance. She had given him several notices over an eight month period, and she was sure now that Mr. Alizadeh lacked the skills and drive to perform his duties. She said she wanted to release Mr. Alizadeh from his employment with our company. I reluctantly agreed. Naturally, firing people was one of the worst and saddest things I had to do. Mr. Alizadeh was a very polite young man with a young wife and two small children. He was tall, handsome, and extremely pleasant. I had to accept, also, that he was a lousy bookkeeper! I agreed to five months’ severance pay for Mr. Alizadeh, and a promise to give him good references for his future employment. The Accounting Manager went off to fire Mr. Alizadeh.

When the Accounting Manager returned to my office shortly thereafter, she informed me that she had gone through the dismissal process with Mr. Alizadeh, but that he had insisted he wanted to talk to me. I asked her what he wanted to see me about, and she said “He says I want Ms. Kaviani to fire me. If she tells me to go, I will.” Oh brother! I told her to bring Mr. Alizadeh in, so I could fire him, too.

As the two people sat in my office, I went around my desk and sat in the chair next to Mr. Alizadeh. As is customary in Iran , the coffee table in my office had a plate of fruit, serving plates, and a jug of ice water and some glasses. I told Mr. Alizadeh how sorry I was about this whole business; how I wished there had been a way to save his job and to keep him on the team; how I had watched anxiously over all the months he had been put on performance track by his supervisor; and how sorry I was to see him go. I told him I would do everything within my power to help him find another job.

Mr. Alizadeh looked so crestfallen and so sad. I was so miserable, too. He said: “I understand, Ms. Kaviani. Now that I have heard it from you, I believe it. May I ask for a last favor before I go?” I said: “Sure, Mr. Alizadeh, what would you like me to do?” He said: “May I have a cigarette?” A cigarette?!! Phew, I was so relieved! Sure, no problem! I said: “Of course, Mr. Alizadeh!,” offering him one of my cigarettes. I even started to light his cigarette, but he took the lighter and lit his cigarette himself.

The Accounting Manager and I were exchanging anxious glances throughout this time, trying to pass through this very uncomfortable meeting. The two of us watched Mr. Alizadeh while he took one long drag on his cigarette. The inhale was so strong and so long on that drag, I swear half of Mr. Alizadeh’s cigarette turned into ash before our very eyes! We were also making small noises, saying some insignificant things to fill the uncomfortable silence while we waited for Mr. Alizadeh to enjoy his “last wish,” like a convict on death row or something. Mr. Alizadeh was not engaging in any small talk with us. His face had assumed a very dramatic look of sadness and perplexity. He was frowning and kept a stoic smile on his face. Mr. Alizadeh took his second drag, which was just as strong and long as the first one and it looked like the cigarette ended right there. I was feeling so bad about this whole meeting, wishing it to end for all of us to be free of the awful episode.

At this time, Mr. Alizadeh opened his left hand and put his cigarette out in the middle of his palm. Oh My God! What the hell?! I saw this first, so I stood up and took two short steps toward Mr. Alizadeh, while screaming “Nooooooooooo!” I could also hear the Accounting Manager’s echoed “Nooooooo” in my wake. By the time I made it to Alizadeh, he had tightened a fist around the cigarette butt in his palm. Without thinking, or remembering that in the Islamic Republic of Iran, women aren’t supposed to touch men in public, I reached for Mr. Alizadeh’s fist, trying to pry it open to retrieve the cigarette butt and check out the undoubted burn spot on his palm. Nothing doing. He had his fist closed tightly and won’t let me open it. All the while I kept saying “That was a really stupid thing you did, Mr. Alizadeh! Let me see your palm!” In the few seconds which in the super slow motion of bad events always feels like an eternity, when I realized that Mr. Alizadeh wasn’t going to let me open his fist, I reached over the coffee table, picked up the ice cold water jug, and poured water on top of Mr. Alizadeh’s clenched fist. He yelled and jumped out of his chair, because the cold water quickly seeped through his crotch where his hand had been held nearby.

At this time, the staff outside my office, who had heard the commotion, the two women’s screams and then Mr. Alizadeh’s yelp opened the door and came in. The sight of me and the Accounting Manager each on one side of Mr. Alizadeh and his standing in the middle with his soaking crotch must have been so confusing to them.

….

I had a few other encounters with Mr. Alizadeh before he left our company, though none of them were as dramatic. He did get another job elsewhere and came to visit me periodically for the rest of the time I worked in that company.

I changed Mr. Alizadeh's name.

Musical Surprises

2009-05-16T00:38:00.000-07:00

Spring in Kurdistan, Iran, Fars News Agency, May 15, 2009. Isn't this peaceful?

I was at my computer, working on something last night when my older son showed up out of nowhere. He had come home to surprise me! It was a really wonderful surprise! I was looking at him rummage through the refrigerator and the cabinets, looking for and finding food, and eating as though he had been starving for days! He may have been, I don't know! His friends in the Bay Area had driven all the way to Santa Cruz to pick him up and bring him home for the surprise! Later, as I stuck my head in the family room to check in on them, I saw ten young heads sitting all over the place, talking and laughing and listening to music. That was the music I wanted to hear.

My kids have been changing a lot, turning into young men who are showing a lot of characteristics which surprise me alright! All of a sudden, it seems, they have become very attentive and considerate, and that is really a wonderful surprise for me. They have always been very loving in their own ways, heck, I should know, I taught them about love, but there is a new quality, a whole new dimension to the way they love now. They have become expressive of their love, showing it to those around them in words and in actions. This morning, my early rising older son came into my bedroom to say hi as I was tidying up. As we were chatting away, he stepped down the hall and looked in his brother's bedroom, where he was sleeping. When he returned he said all of a sudden: "I love that guy, Mom, especially when he is sleeping like that and he isn't getting on my nerves." A simple announcement, and music to my ears.

Three weeks ago, I received news that I have been laid off from my job. I have been spending a lot of time looking for a new job and thinking how to handle my life and my finances during a most uncertain time in the US economy. Naturally I am sad and anxious, but even in the face of an unknown time ahead, for some reason I don't feel devastated. The night before I received the news, my cousin Mehri called me from Orange County. She told me she had had a dream about my mother. My mother had told her to look out for me (movaazeb e Nazy baash), and had asked her to tell me that she is praying for me, and not to worry. The next day, as I received the news, all I could think about was the message I had received the night before. All through my life, and even almost thirteen years after her death, I have never had a doubt that my mother loved me and has always looked over me. She and my father are the ones who taught me how to love, and I think I have learnt well, I'm almost sure. My solitude and my reflections these days have a peaceful air about them. It's as though all day long I am hearing a beautiful symphony, something that I hadn't heard for a long time because of the stress I had been feeling at work. These days I hear the music of peace.

When I'm faced with adversities, and I have had this particular pleasure many times in my life (!), as soon as the shock stage is over, I try to take stock of what I do have and what it is I am still capable of doing. When I think of the things I have, I can't help but be grateful and happy for holding on to the essence of life, to that which is precious and important, irreplacable and valuable. I am surrounded by loving family and friends, new and old, and extremely valuable bonds of love and understanding. Most of what makes me happy these days in my life has not been made possible with money, so they all get to stay! My life, through all the thousands of tiny and important pieces which comprise it, is a beautiful mosaic of joy and color and love. I'll get through this time, holding on to every single one of those precious pieces, for they were never bought, they were earned. And that knowledge, that reassurance, those floating notes of hope and love, these days make the music of my life.

Down The Road of Love

2009-05-09T14:58:00.000-07:00

The quickest and most efficient way I know to tell you that I'm alright is to share a one minute video clip of a drive we took down to Santa Cruz last week. The voices belong to a singer on CD, myself and my older son. The music is a medley of old Khorasani folk songs which my friend Hadi gave me a couple of years ago.

I have been put through the wringer recently, but I'm slowly but surely re-emerging. I have so much to tell you, and I will say it until you get bored with me! You will see. I love you all and I thank those of you who missed me and wrote. It was a good feeling to be missed--I particularly needed it over the past few weeks. Thank you for helping me remember that for every bad thing there are thousands of good things, and that for every malicious person in this world, there are thousands who are capable of love, trust, and integrity. I'll be back with more stuff soon! I love you all. I do. Yes, I do.

The Iranian American Weekend

2009-04-05T11:11:00.000-07:00

Kayhan Kalhor performs with Brooklyn Riders

I have been attending the Iranian Alliances Across Borders Conference in Berkeley this weekend. It has been a very good time meeting new people and catching up with old friends. My writer friends in Northern California and one from New York are here for the conference and it's been a pleasure hanging out with them. When we went to dinner last night, it was wonderful to look from one end of the table to the next, seeing authors, poets, artists, and musicians all having an Irani dinner together and talking about life! I am also impressed by the beautiful and intelligent young Iranians who have shown up at the conference, whether to present papers and ideas or to receive them.

I'm planning on going to watch Kayhan Kalhor, the Iranian Kamancheh master, perform with Brooklyn Riders tonight. I will let you know all about it! I will also tell you about the Fared Shafinuri concert my friends and I attended last night soon. It was fabulous! Have a great Sunday everybody!

6/8 blues!

2009-04-02T23:26:00.000-07:00

I love Martik. Sorry for the band-e-tonbooni song. It's one of those nights!

Here and There, Life Goes On

2009-04-01T18:46:00.000-07:00

Iranian jazz and blues crooner Rana Farhan performs Drunk With Love. Enjoy!

I continue to maintain my Nowruz energy level and optimism! My attempts at keeping my personal space organized has prevailed and I am glad to report that a lot of my former self is showing again, too! Heeh! It actually feels great! I am laughing more and though I am still way behind in my emails and calls, I am very slowly turning things around! In all of this I have a heightened and focused sense of love and appreciation for my family and for my close friends who are loving, loyal, and always kind to me.

April is turning out to be a busy month, with everything from work to family matters to volunteer assignments and events piling up on me with a full calendar again. No complaints, though, as I am now doing many of the things I really enjoy doing and hanging out with people I really like and respect. I will be meeting up with other writers from the Association of Iranian American Writers this weekend, and I'm really looking forward to the IAAB conference, too.

Later this month there will be a music festival for Iranian.com (Saturday, April 25th), and I have agreed to help out as a volunteer for that fundraising event. I will write more about this later. If you would like to help out, please either buy tickets to the concert which will feature Faramarz Aslani, Arash Sobhani, and Sahba Aminikia (and a surprise guest), or donate to Iranian.com to keep this important Iranian medium afloat and alive.

As chance would have it, I will be visiting with Fared Shafinuri and his band, Tehranosaurus in Berkeley this coming Friday! If you live in these parts and are available to meet some pretty talented young Iranians, let me know! I think we will be hanging out in Berkeley during the afternoon of Friday, April 3rd.

Before I sign off, I want to say one last thing. Life does go on. Even after the worst of events. Even after the biggest losses. I wrote over a year ago about my co-worker's visit to my office to tell me about her impending divorce after a long marriage. All last year I have been watching my friend deal with her new life, making progress one day and retreating on another, trying to make sense of her new life. Today she told me she is going on her first date after her divorce. I doubt anything will come of it, but I am pleased for my friend for picking up the pieces of her life, trying to make herself whole again, and moving on. Even the simplest and most mundane things appear hard and impossible for people who are going through traumatic events. A date is a pretty good start, I should think! Yes, life does go on.

Music of Heart and Soul

2009-03-30T01:45:00.000-07:00

Fared Shafinouri sings Arianaz in Tehran. This is beautiful music and I'm sure you would enjoy it! Look at the sweet video clip of my beloved Tehran. I found him on YouTube last October. Here's his MySpace page where you can find other tracks of his new album. His music is so sweet and refreshing.

Fared and his band, Tehranosaurus, will be performing in Berkeley this Saturday night. I am going to see them perform. The concert will be the entertainment segment of the IAAB conference. Here's the concert's Facebook announcement. It will be at the Pauley Ballroom of UC Berkeley on Saturday, April 4th, 2009 at 8:30.

The Year of Dreams

2009-03-29T21:30:00.000-07:00

My wonderful friend, Kiomars, sent me a group of beautiful pictures of Tehran's Tajrish Square during preparations for Nowruz. I forwarded my gift to Iranian.com where they were published and shared with thousands of other people! You can see the collection here. This photo shows fresh baby almonds, chaghaleh badom, a spring time Iranian delicacy. Thank you Q!

I have been busy doing Nowruzi things! My older son came to stay for a week, during which we hung out nice and easy. He left for Santa Cruz this afternoon, and the house feels empty and too quiet this evening! Though he has officially left home since September, I haven't quite managed to get used to his absence. When he comes home and the house gets filled with the chatter and laughter of my sons and their friends, things feel so normal, and when he goes away, I have to get used to things all over again! Next year by this time my younger son will also be on his way out somewhere, and I will have to get used to that, too! Well, I have decided that the new Iranian year, 1388 is going to be a better year, that it will be my year! Forget about the economic forecasts, forget about some small and big sadnesses brewing in my and my friends' lives--this is going to be a great year for everyone, I can just feel it in my heart!

Come and dream with me, won't you? Imagine a world full of peace, where no one gets sick and all the sick people heal and recover, where pain is just a memory, where everyone will have enough money to enjoy life without fear or worries, where everybody makes the best decisions and everyone does the right thing, where nobody lies and nobody hurts others' feelings, where those who are in committed relationships wake up one day and think to themselves just how lucky they are to be in the company of somebody who loves and trusts and respects them, kissing more passionately and hugging more warmly, and giving more generously! Imagine those who aren't in a committed relationship, getting hit with the thunder of love and finding the one person who would complete and improve them for the rest of their lives! Imagine changes happening for the absolute better, and without pain! Imagine everyone growing more mature, loving, and forgiving! That's the dream I have for this year. That's what I am looking forward to seeing in 1388! Call me a fool, but I am almost certain in my heart that many of these dreams and wishes will come true, only if we keep believing in them. I believe. I do.

Football and Kalleh Paacheh!

2009-03-27T11:04:00.000-07:00

Photo from here.

I will be getting together with friends and family to watch the Iran-Saudi Arabia soccer game tomorrow morning. I become a soccer fan every time there is a National Soccer Team game and espcially if they are pivotal games such as this one! I wear my Team-e-Melli T-shirt and carry my flag to wherever there is food and people to share the excitement. My brother-in-law has been working on a Kalleh Paacheh breakfast for days. Though I'm not a fan of this particular food, I look forward to the gathering which brings pride, joy, and love to me every time. I hope Iran wins. I'll certainly be doing my part for cheering on the team! Go Iran!

Bay Area Events

2009-03-27T10:02:00.000-07:00

If you live in this area, I would like to tell you about a few interesting events.

Tonight I'm going to City of San Francisco Supervisor Ross Mirkarimi's "eid deedani" from 5:30 to 8:00 p.m. It is a free art event and Nowruz reception sponsored by Beyond Persia, at the City Hall office of Supervisor Ross Mirkarimi. City Hall; 1 Dr. Carlton B. Goodlett Place; Room 244; San Francisco, Ca 94102-4689; Office of Ross Mirkarimi: (415) 554-7630; Beyond Persia: (415) 738-2182; Directions . I look forward to seeing my friends, having tea and shirini, taking a look at great art and listening to live music!

On Sunday there will be a concert by Namaad Ensemble at Berkeley's Julia Morgan Theater. I love their music and am delighted to see them perform here. Julia Morgan Center for the Arts, 2640 College Avenue, Berkeley, CA 94704; 7:30 p.m.

Next Thursday, April 2nd at 7:00 p.m., scholar, author, poet, and my friend Persis Karim will be a guest of UC Berkeley's Institute of European Studies as a part of a year-long public outreach program on Women, Islam and the West. The program aims to place intellectuals, activists, artists, writers and academics in conversation with an informed public to explore the relationship between Islam and Western secularism, particularly as it manifests itself in the lives of women. Persis Karim's lecture is titled, Beyond Memoir: Women, Writing and the Making of Iranian Diaspora Identities, and she will be in conversation with my other good friend, Dr. Jaleh Pirnazar of UC Berkeley. Diesel Books, 5433 College Avenue; Oakland, CA 94618; (510) 653-9965; Get directions.

Next weekend on Saturday and Sunday, April 4th and 5th, IAAB (Iranian Alliances Across Borders) will have its fourth annual conference at UC Berkeley. "This one of a kind conference brings together academics, artists, activists, students, and community leaders representing some of the most prestigious academic and community organizations in the world to discuss the accomplishments and challenges of the Iranian diaspora community." I will be attending this conference and serving as a volunteer at the Association of Iranian American Writers' table.

Unfortunately, since I'll be at the IAAB conference next weekend, I will be missing a wonderful 13-bedar picnic at Tilden Park, organized by my friend, Enayat Katouli. I urge you all to go and have a good time with many other Iranian Berkeleyans! Enayat says: "Annual Sizdah Bedar will be on April 5th ( Sunday ) At Laurel picnic area at Tilden park again. Join your beloved friends and have fun as always as we have every year. Be there at 11.am and bring your share of food, drink, " Ash Reshteh..." , game festivities....... " Here's the Tilden Park in Berkeley map and location of "Laurel " site.

My other very good friend, artist Farrokh Shehabi and his lovely wife, Linda, will also be hosting a 13-bedar picnic on their ranch in Vacaville on Saturday, April 4th, 2009. If you can find the time to go to Farrokh's annual picnic, you will be sure to have a good time. Please drop me an email if you want to go and I will provide directions.

That's it for now! I will write a separate post to catch up with things. Have a beautiful spring everyone!

Eid e Shoma Mobarak!

2009-03-20T04:50:00.000-07:00

My Beautiful Friends and Family:

I prayed for you and your health, and for love and prosperity in your lives at the moment of the year change just a few minutes ago. As the new year begins, I wish for peace on earth and for love in every single person's heart. I wish our beautiful Iran is safe and prosperous and that its decent and loving people are safe from harm. I wish all sadness to come to an end and for all the past wars to become a memory from which to learn and for there never to be another war. I would like to invite you to love your friends and family and to hug and hold them like you never have before, renewing your commitments and relations. I hope everyone keeps the flame of love and hope alive in their hearts throughout the year. I thank you for having been my friends over the past years and here's wishing that our friendships grow and flourish in the coming year. Happy Nowruz, and Happy New Year!

Your Friend,

Nazy

Over The Fire!

2009-03-16T20:46:00.000-07:00

Annual Charshanbeh Souri Celebration at Berkeley's Persian Center. Photo taken by Jahanshah Javid shows the 2008 Celebrations.

Tomorrow will be the last Tuesday of the Iranian calendar. As tradition has it, at sunset friends, families, and neighborhoods will gather to jump over open fires to throw away their sadness and ills, starting a New Year full of health and joy. As is our little tradition, my friends and family will go to Berkeley Persian Center's annual Charshanbeh Souri celebration. I am so excited to be seeing my friends there. The number of people showing up to the celebration has been growing over the years. The whole block of Durant Avenue between Shattuck and Milvia is closed to traffic and under the careful eyes of Berkeley Police and Fire Department, open fires are set up for the 3,000+ people, Iranians and Americans, who show up to celebrate. I'm going to be there, where standing on the few square centimeters I can find on the pavement, I'll wait to see my friends and family go by! If you are in this area, don't miss this fabulous opportunity to come and jump over the fire, eat Persian food, and dance the night away with hundreds of others.

Happy Charshanbeh Souri and I hope the following fire wish comes true for all of you: Zardi e man az to, Sorkhi e to az man!

The Mission

2009-03-14T21:15:00.000-07:00

Isfahan in blossoms.

My house is shaping up slowly, but surely. It was a cloudy and cold day here today, momentarily shaking my belief in the coming of spring. Then I went out to take some of the mountains of garbage to the receptacle, and I saw them. The new buds on the tree just outside my house, which is as close to a "front yard" as I can have living in a townhouse. They were there for sure, the branches moving with the cold wind but not relenting their business of growth and the promise of spring. I felt tender love for the resilience and devotion that tree feels in the face of adversity. It has a mission and it won't give up, it won't retreat, and it won't compromise. If only I could remember that mission in my life, too, never giving up on what I think is the right thing to do. For the first time in my life I thought today that trees are wiser and stronger than people, and as such a lot more important and trustworthy. We need to work on hanging in there, too, everyday, and all the time. That's the only way we can carry out our mission and give others hope and strength. I want to be a tree.

A New Day

2009-03-14T00:27:00.001-07:00

Something about how Nowruz translates into English has had me engaged over the past few weeks. I have been looking forward to a New Day for a while now! It seems like I have finally managed to start pulling myself out of a very stressful time, where for a few months I was focused and devoted to a very complicated volunteer project. I have also started working on something new at work which is a very welcome change. I am cleaning my house, my closets, my kitchen, my office, my head, and my heart of some clutter and finished business. I'm doing my khooneh tekooni inside and out, you guys! I can't wait for Nowruz! I hope you all have started a fabulous weekend with your family and loved ones. Have a good Saturday you all!

Salam, Salam!

2009-03-11T00:58:00.000-07:00

My friend, Hamed Nikpay, sings Madhoosh, from his new album All Is Calm.

Salam, Salam! I must have worried you guys! I'm well and kicking! I've just been overwhelmed with my life, working too hard, and concentrating on some volunteer work I am committed to finishing. I am going to make at least a small entry every day now to give myself something to look forward to and to let my few remaining friends (yes, that includes you!) to know that I'm alright!

I have been writing some stuff, too, believe it or not! Some of my work is routinely published on Iranian.com. But blogging in my own blogs is where I write my personal stuff, and I miss doing that very much.

My sons are well and thriving. I see my older son every couple of weekends when he comes home to crash and eat and visit with me and his brother. We are all trying to get used to this new phase of our lives. Here's a piece I wrote about something that happened this past weekend in our household. If you can't access Iranian.com, let me know and I will post the story here. It's called "The Ghormeh Sabzi Thriller" and it's in two parts. Take a look. I promise to be back again tomorrow.

The Ghormeh Sabzi Thriller Part I, and Part II .

Be good everybody and have a good Wednesday!

Missing Rasht Tonight

2009-02-27T00:01:00.000-08:00

Someone shared this video clip of Rashti music with me tonight. I am sharing it with you. I miss Rasht. Salam beguftam tera, javab nadaee mera... Lovely old Gilak song and full of memories for me. I hope you enjoy it! Have a good Friday everybody!

The Persian Jam

2009-02-21T12:56:00.000-08:00

Hooman, Shari, Behzad, and Niloofar, making music.

Behzad, Bijan, Dr. Zari, Shari, and Reza.

Anahita, Hooman, Dr. Taheri, and Manouchehr Khan Ghanbari.

I went to see my Persian Literature teacher, Dr. Zari Taheri, in Berkeley last night. She has been living in Tokyo at for the past several years, where she researches and teaches Persian literature at Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. Once or twice a year she returns to her home in the Bay Area and during the summers she teaches a Persian poetry class for a few weeks at UC Berkeley, which is attended by her adoring students (more like fans!). This time she had a short visit and we only had a chance to see her last night for a few hours at one of our classmates’ home in Berkeley.

Of course, Zari is always equipped with Persian poetry to disarm us and we were willingly ready to abandon the “party” to join her in another “class” as she pulled out her little Khayyam book and started to read Khayyam’s poems for us. But what happened instead was a lot of fun! People pulled out their musical instruments and assembled a small, but complete musical group who picked up on the Khayyam poetry and started playing and singing for the rest of us. Someone even danced to the tune of the sweet jamming session!

What is it with Iranians and poetry and music? I don’t think anyone can adequately define a “Persian Jam,” where everybody joins with whatever talent they have (and even without it as in my case!), to fill a small corner of time and presence with an age-old tradition, something which feels very pagan in nature?

I mean even when there are no musical instruments and no scholars in attendance, even the smallest of Iranian gatherings could spontaneously turn in the direction of a night-long musical event, so very sweet and so nostalgic.

I suppose other nationalities and ethnic groups engage in spur of the moment musical activities like this, too, but nothing feels as right to me as this, The Persian jam. Has this happened to you, too? What songs do you sing? It’s all music of love to me.

Coming Back

2009-02-15T03:55:00.000-08:00

I went to be with my friends tonight after a very long time tonight. I also spent time with my family last weekend. I took some important steps at work this past week, too. I think I'm on my way back to my beautiful life again.

P.S. I wrote and erased thousands of words here tonight. No words seem to do justice to the way I am feeling right now. I think what I already said is representative of how I feel. I'm on my way back.

Chop Chop!

2009-02-07T22:24:00.000-08:00

The scissors moved quickly and expertly, chop chop, I could hear the work in progress, but I didn’t wish to see. Past that early jolt when my ponytail was cut off in one move, I didn’t want to see. I kept my eyes closed and instead, I heard the sound of the comb running through my wet hair and the chop chop of the scissors.

I travelled through my thoughts and my reflections, memories and wishes, longings and sadnesses, hoping to organize my head as it was being relieved of all the extra weight. I didn’t want to think about turning ugly or undesirable, because I didn’t want to think “for whom?” Chop chop the scissors went.

I remembered my friend Soussan in the last days of her life, bald, missing her beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows from round after round of chemotherapy, drugged up and unreachable.

I thought of Hadi’s sister in Montreal who is also going through chemotherapy to deal with Leukemia.

Chop chop, I listened, and thought about life as it is and as it goes on, about how much fault we find with here and now, how we worry more about what is missing than what there is. I thought the sad thoughts of loss and longing.

I thought about the tears that had been building up in a pond just behind my eyes, unpermitted to move, unforgiven if disobedient. I thought about the young love happening in my home, and the twinkle which keeps surprising me in my son’s eyes. I thought about opening that audio file and my unexpected delight at hearing my son sing a complete song in it. I thought about the delightful taste of pomegranates and yogurt on my tongue, when he encouraged me to “just try it.” I thought about all the last gazes and kisses, embraces and unuttered words of goodbye, repeated a million times in my life. I could feel the disobedient pond moving forward and sliding on my cheeks, catching the snippets of hair on their way down. I couldn’t hear the chop chop anymore, but I didn’t want to open my eyes to see.

I looked in the mirror. It was still me, with short hair. Life was intact. Hope was still around. My face needed a good washing.

*******

I donated my hair to Wigs For Kids today.

Bouquet of Life

2009-01-29T00:01:00.000-08:00

I found another rendition of Del-e-Koochooloo. Composer Anoushiravan Rohani plays the pinano with Mahyar Bahraminasab on Tombak with a symphony and opera singers. Delightful!

Life has been crazy for me lately. I know life is crazy, because I haven't been able to keep my blogs up, and this being my refuge, my home, and where I write from my heart, you will know that my life has been really crazy!

I wished I had something good to show for all the hard work and the distractions. I don't. I'm stuck in a whirlwind which saps all my energy and leaves me exhausted all the time, without any tangible fruit. It is getting to me and I hate it when anything gets to me. One of these days I will have to stop and go back to page 1, where I will have to re-group and re-prioritize my life. I know it has to be done and I've been putting it off. Not good.

On a happier note, my niece and her husband will arrive from Tehran tomorrow. There is something really exciting and a little sad about their move to the US. It's exciting because I love my niece who has been the last member of my immediate family still living in Tehran, and it will be good for all of us to be reunited finally. It is sad, because all of a sudden I am aware that Tehran will never be the same for me again. The thought of having no family to go back to is a sad one. I know I will still have secondary and distant relatives and beautiful new and old friends in Iran, but something important will be missing in my life from now on.

Anyhow, I have been so aware of my posessions in life recently. Mostly non-material, I hold a beautiful and colorful bouquet of assets in my arms these days--my relationships. I am all the more cognizant of that wealth these days, as I have been missing my friends and family a lot. I think I need to start making up for my neglect. I'll start here and work my way through all that I have to do to celebrate my bouquet of life. Have a good Thursday everybody!

In The Attic Of My Mind

2009-01-15T00:12:00.000-08:00

Photo by Sanaz from her recent trip to Tehran, Iranian.com, January 14, 2008. I missed Tajrish so much today.

I have been a little under the weather. When I'm sick and bored, too weak to accomplish anything, I have no choice but to think and reflect. I have been thinking, which could be a dangerous thing for me! I have been remembering moments, snippets of conversations, fleeting feelings, and lasting memories. It's really rather funny. We won't talk about just how old I am, but let's just say that I have been around the block a few times and back! In all of the things I have done in my life, the places I have been, the people I have met, the meetings I attended, the trips I have taken, the things I have owned, and the things I have lost, my boldest memories, the ones that I keep near and dear to my heart, are all in really simple, ordinary, and very austere settings. For example, a trip I took to somewhere far. I may remember something that happened, something which was said or done on that trip. The thing that I remember is not about how posh the hotel was in which I stayed, or where in the airplane that took me there I sat, or in which fancy restaurants in that faraway place I ate. It is almost invariably a memory of a conversation, a meeting, or a feeling I had in a roadside cafe, or walking down the street when the rain broke out, or the scents I smelled while visiting the downtown area of that city. Somehow, somewhere in my mind, the opulence or physical attributes of the experience are diminished to zero, leaving me with only the essence of the experience and the memory. I don't know if I explained a feeling that is baffling to myself very well.

Lying in my bed and looking at the ceiling today, I remembered how I was sitting at the table for two somewhere, sipping a simple cup of tea, feeling safe, wanted, fulfilled, and joyous. It was a happy memory. It was a wonderful flashback to a time that was bold and beautiful as it was taking place. It wasn't tainted with loss or longing. It didn't have any questions hanging from it, it was clear, crisp, and bright. Though long gone, with pain and sadness in its wake for a while, today the memory felt gorgeous, cheerful, and dear. It was framed perfectly placed inside a frame of love. This was really the most perfect sick day of the past year, for so much that has been cluttered and pushed around inside my heart, finally seems to be taking shape, falling into place, and getting organized to beautiful effect. I think lying on that bed, looking at the ceiling today, I found something really good in the attic of my mind.

For Love and Peace

2009-01-10T03:47:00.000-08:00

Aksana B., a Ukranian pianist in Sweden, plays Anoushirvan Rohani's Del-e-Koochoolo, a long-time favorite of mine. I wonder what has inspired her to play Persian music? Does she love an Iranian man? When I loved an Iranian man, I moved mountains for him! It's beautiful music, delivered beautifully. Enjoy!

Just a quick note to say that I will be going to a peace demonstration in San Francisco (at the San Francisco Civic Center Plaza) later today with my younger son. The protest will be against Israeli attacks on Gaza. We will be joining the Iranian contingent which has been organized by my friend Enayat. If you live in this area, join us. The Iranian contingent will meet on the corner of Grove and Larkin, in front of San Francisco Public Library, at 11:00 a.m.

I hope you have a beautiful Saturday, full of love and peace. Please don't forget to pray for world peace, too. I promise to write a proper post when I return later today. I miss writing here!

Off To 2009

2009-01-04T21:12:00.000-08:00

Sasan Nakhshab sings Hele Zirak, a song based on a Molana (Rumi) poem. I think he is an architect in San Diego, California. I believe his son accompanies him in this song. I admire an ordinary man who sings for his heart from his heart.

And so, the holidays are over. My little celebrations with friends and family are over and my older son will return to Santa Cruz tomorrow. The new year is upon us and I need to face it with all the promises I'm holding of it in my heart. Though I have no specific resolutions this year, I am aware of areas in my life which need attention, hard work, and perseverance. I am ready to do them, I think! I hope as all of you who live in the western world are getting ready to start your new year, you are filled with energy and optimism for accomplishing all that you need to do. Here's wishing all of you a great year, full of personal joy and love. Have a good Monday everybody!

Love

2009-01-01T21:56:00.000-08:00

High and low

I looked

I searched

I begged

Searching for meaning

Searaching for interpretation

Searaching for guidance

Hills

Mountains

Pinnacles

Ponds

Lakes, and

Oceans

Deserts

Plains, and

Continents

Sorcerers

Fortune tellers, and

Wisemen

Texts

Books, and

Schools

When I returned

Empty-handed

Tired, and

Desolate

Seeking comfort

Shelter

Solace

Within

Alone with my heart

I saw it

Touched it

Drank it

And grew

The alchemy of life

The essence of being

The key to peace all around

Love.

Peace From The Heart

2009-01-01T00:01:00.000-08:00

I start the New Year with just three wishes and no resolutions this year! Ha ha! Resolutions are hard. Either you try to achieve them, which is hard work, or you skip and ignore them, which is also hard, because you know you should be sticking with them and you aren't, and that makes you feel guilty! This year, my dear friends, I have no resolutions, zero! I have decided I am already doing my best and I don't want to hear another word about it! Heeh! What a grouchy way to start the New Year, don't you think?! Actually, I'm laughing my head off as I type these words, because I have decided to liberate myself from the black clouds of responsibility to really hard goals, such as quitting smoking, getting more organized, exercising, losing weight, cleaning the garage (again!), etc. No, thank you!

Instead, as the moments were getting closer and closer to 12:00, I concentrated on three wishes. I'll tell you about my 2nd wish, keeping the other two in my heart for now! My second wish was for world peace. I closed my eyes and with all my heart wished that there would be no more death and devastation in the world, and that peace would prevail worldwide immediately. Too many wars have already happened in my lifetime. I am not proud of that. I think if every citizen of the world understood the true humiliation the entire humanity must endure each time another senseless and preventable war is started, then people would feel more compelled to stop wars. If all nations protest wars vehemently, I doubt governments can initiate wars so easily. I wish for peace which should start in every human being's heart and mind first, spreading through families, tribes, nations, and the world. I think peace that starts in people's hearts is the longest lasting kind of peace, surpassing any treaty, any resolution, and any convention.

I hope the New Year is full of personal joy, comfort, peace, love, and health for you. I hope this is the year your love for the special people in your lives is renewed and enriched, helping you along farther and faster and lighter to achieve other big things in your lives. I hope those who don't have that special person in their lives yet, are hit with the thunder of love! Love is what it's all about, trust me on this!

Happy New Year Everybody!

Joy Found

2008-12-28T11:47:00.000-08:00

Two young musicians, Aida Shahghasemi and Amirhossein Kiani, perform Kisses of Rain, Booseh haye baraan, at a concert in Minnesota. The original song composed by Master Hossein Alizadeh, on a priceless love poem by Mohammad Reza Shafie Kadkani, was performed by Mohammad Reza Shajarian.

I think this is the ultimate Iranian love song. This performance by the two young artists is touching and reminiscent of so many memories for me.

Is there any such thing as "love lost?" I mean, when we love someone and that relationship ends, is that love lost? I used to think it was, and I used to mourn it. Somehow I missed it so much, I used to get sad over its loss. These days I'm re-thinking past love affairs of my life. I think in each of them, I didn't "lose" anything, but I "found" something, something that will never be lost, for that love was beautiful, bold, exciting, and valuable for as long as it lasted. Why mourn it? Why get sad? It added something to me in depth and experience, and as such it should be remembered with joy and happiness and a feeling of wealth and not loss. Here's to all my past loves, wherever they are now. A big piece of those men continues to live in my heart and in my life. That is joy found, not love lost. That's what I think.

Happy Sunday everybody. Please share your love songs with me if you care.

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T18:57:00.000-08:00

My favorite American singer of all time, Bruce Springsteen sings "Santa Claus is Coming To Town," at a 2007 Paris concert with E Street Band.

It's Christmas Eve. My little house holds all that is near and dear to me in this world, my two sons and their friends, good music, and a lot of cheer and hope. My little broken record here would like to encourage you all to love your kin and lovers like there is no tomorrow. Kiss them, hug them, and tell them you love them as many times as you can. The best things in life are always the simplest ones. A few words, a good gaze, a warm embrace, and a little care are all free and simple gifts you can give each other. Go do it! Merry Christmas!

Christmas, Khatami, Ahmad, and I

2008-12-24T18:41:00.000-08:00

My younger son helped me set up our Christmas tree again this year.

It feels like it was only yesterday when I wrote here about Christmases past in Tehran. Today I remembered another memory of my days in Tehran.

I remember the first Christmas Mohammad Khatami had been elected President. Iran was a rainbow of joy and hope, and Tehran was hosting the Organization of Islamic Countries’ Summit in December 1997. I left a meeting in downtown Tehran, hailed an orange taxi cab, and asked the cab driver whether he could spend an hour or two, taking me around Tehran to buy some things. He agreed. He was a middle-aged man who was dressed in what we would consider “laat-e-kolah-makhmali” attire. His coat was resting on his shoulders with his hands free from the sleeves. The back of his shoes had been pushed inside, and in his hands he sported a green rosary with which he was playing as he drove his Paykan. True to form, he also had a black felt hat on. He had kind eyes and a deep Tehrani accent, complete with lingo that was reminiscent of old Iranian movie characters.

I told him I needed to pick up a Christmas tree first. He took me to the Armenian neighborhood of Tehran just below Takht-e-Tavoos Avenue and helped me carry the tree and secure it in the trunk. On our way to my next destination, he and I started talking about politics. I told him I had watched President Khatami receive his foreign counterparts at the airport that morning. I told him how impressed I had been with him. He looked at me in the mirror and asked me what about the President had impressed me. I told him I didn’t really know. Maybe it was that he seemed to be speaking to the arriving leaders easily, in English? In German? In Arabic?, and that he was acting “stately,” something I hadn’t seen before. I told him also that even in his clergy outfit he seemed lithe and somehow contemporary, belonging to today. Maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing sandals, I guess.

The cab driver kept moving his rosary in his hands and looking at me in the rearview mirror. He asked me gently: “Really? You are obviously a woman who has seen more than life in Tehran. Do you really think that a president who can chit-chat in a language other than Farsi is impressive? Or one who wears regular shoes? Does that make him a good president?” He said: “I feel so sorry for my country. Who would have thought there would come a day when knowing a second language at conversational levels or wearing shoes would be considered impressive?” I was so embarrassed. The “laat-e-kolah-makhmali” cab driver didn’t look so laat anymore! I asked him his name and his background. He told me his name was Ahmad and that he had a master’s degree in political science from Tehran University. He had been a teacher before he had been dismissed because of his political beliefs. We talked a lot more about a lot of other things before I bid him goodbye, tree and turkey and fruits in hand. I learned a few important lessons about myself, about life, and about Iranian politics from him that day. Those lessons have only become bolder and more important with time.

Merry Christmas!

Namjoo and Writing

2008-12-21T12:28:00.000-08:00

I found this live recording of an unknown music session by Mohsen Namjoo, in which he sings Jabr-e Joghrafiaee (I translate the title into Georgraphically Challenged). I love this man and his music. I love this song and its lyrics.

It's a rainy, lazy Sunday. I'm listening to music and writing. My sons are sleeping in after a long Yalda celebration last night. I celebrated with dear friends, too, going to bed at 4:00 a.m.! I hope wherever you are, you are enjoying your day. Rest and love and eat and celebrate life as much as you can. This might be a good day to give someone you really love a quiet but sturdy hug! Enjoy your day!

The Longest Night

2008-12-19T23:39:00.000-08:00

A Yalda spread. Photo from here.

A beautiful crystal bowl, filled with clear water sat in the middle of the coffee table in my parents’ living room. It was surrounded by bowls and plates of fruit, dried nuts and candy, Ajeel, pastries, seeded pomegranates, and bright red watermelon. My mother’s silver candlesticks had fresh candles in them, giving the room a poetic glow. My father’s old Hafez sat prominently on a side table, untouchable by the rest of us, waiting for him alone to announce the appropriate moment. My brother played his setar and its sweet sound warmed up the group sitting around him.

It was Yalda, the longest night of the year at winter solstice. A young boy, my nephew, picked up the water bowl and started making the rounds around the room. Each person he faced made a wish, and dropped a small sign, a ring, a coin, an earring, into the bowl of shimmering clear water. Once everyone’s sign was put in the water, he returned the bowl to the table. My father picked up his Hafez, prayed, and opened a page. He would start reading the poem aloud. Everyone listened. Nobody knew whose fa’al this was…yet. After he was done, the young boy would close his eyes and reach inside the water bowl, pulling out one of the signs and hold it up. That is when we knew in response to whose wish Hafez had just spoken. Everyone exclaimed and laughed, talking about the poem. Then my father would open his Hafez book again to read another poem, and we would all listen, waiting to find out whose poem it was this time, until everyone’s was done.

Yalda, the long night of memories, the night of sweet poems, the night of hope, the night of the purest Iranian celebration, is the year’s sweetest and warmest and most beautiful night for me. Happy Yalda.

For Hossein Derakhshan

2008-12-17T23:13:00.000-08:00

Following is an open letter in protest of circumstances surrounding the arrest of Hossein Derakhshan, an Iranian blogger who has been detained in Tehran for over a month now. If you wish, please publish it in your blogs and leave your name in the comments section. I will pass it along to be added to the list of those who have signed it. Thank you.

We, the undersigned, view the circumstances surrounding the Iranian authorities' arrest of Hossein Derakhshan (hoder.com), one of the most prominent Iranian bloggers, as extremely worrying. Derakhshan's disappearance, detention at an unknown location, lack of access to his family and attorneys, and the authorities' failure to provide clear information about his potential charges is a source of concern for us.

The Iranian blogging community is one of the largest and most vibrant in the world. From ordinary citizens to the President, a diverse and large number of Iranians are engaged in blogging. These bloggers encompass a wide spectrum of views and perspectives, and they play a vital role in open discussions of social, cultural and political affairs.

Unfortunately, in recent years, numerous websites and blogs have been routinely blocked by the authorities, and some bloggers have been harassed or detained. Derakhshan's detention is but the latest episode in this ongoing saga and is being viewed as an attempt to silence and intimidate the blogging community as a whole.

Derakhshan's own position regarding a number of prisoners of conscience in Iran has been a source of contention among the blogging community and has caused many to distance themselves from him. This, however, doesn't change the fact that the freedom of expression is sacred for all not just the ones with whom we agree.

We therefore categorically condemn the circumstances sourrounding Derakhshan's arrest and detention and demand his immediate release.

ما امضا کنندگان ذیل، شرایط دستگیری حسین درخشان، یکی از سرشناس ترین بلاگرهای ایرانی، توسط مقامات ایران را به شدت نگران کننده می دانیم. ناپدید شدن، حبس در مکانی مجهول، عدم دسترسی به اعضای خانواده و وکلای مدافع، و اعلام نکردن اطلاعات شفاف در خصوص موارد اتهام احتمالی نامبرده همگی باعث نگرانی ما ست.

جامعه وبلاگ نویسان ایران یکی از فعال ترین و بزرگترین جوامع اینترنتی جهان است. از شهروندان معمولی تا رییس جمهور ایران، بسیاری به امر نوشتن در وبلاگهای مختلف مشغول اند. این وبلاگ نویسان دارای طیف وسیعی از عقاید و آرا هستند و نقش مهمی در

مباحث اجتماعی، فرهنگی، و سیاسی ایفا می کنند.

متاسفانه ظرف سالهای اخیر، وبسایت ها و وبلاگهای متعددی به صورت منظم توسط مقامات ایران فیلتر شده و شماری از وبلاگ نویسان با آزار و حبس روبرو شده اند. بازداشت حسین درخشان تنها آخرین نمونه از این نوع برخوردها ست و به نظر می آید این اقدام در راستای ایجاد رعب و واداشتن وبلاگ نویسان به سکوت طراحی شده است.

مواضع حسین درخشان در خصوص تعدادی از کسانی که بدلیل عقایدشان زندانی شده اند باعث رنجش جامعه وبلاگ نویسان ایرانی بوده و همین موجب شده بسیاری از آنان از وی دوری بجویند. با اینهمه، این موضوع این حقیقت را نفی نمی کند که آزادی بیان حقی مقدس است و باید برای همه در نظر گرفته شود، نه فقط کسانی که با آنها موافقیم.

بنابرین، ما از این منظر، به طور اصولی شرایط دستگیری و بازداشت حسین درخشان را محکوم می کنیم و خواهان آزادی فوری او هستیم.

Arash Abadpourhttp://kamangir.net/

Niki Akhavanhttp://benevis-dige.blogspot.com/

Hossein Bagher Zadehhttp://www.iranian.com/bagherzadeh

Sanam Dolatshahihttp://www.khorshidkhanoom.com/

Mehdi Jamihttp://sibestaan.malakut.org/

Jahanshah Javidhttp://www.iranian.com/

Abdee Kalantarihttp://www.nilgoon.org/

Sheema Kalbasihttp://www.zaneirani.blogspot.com/

Nazli Kamvarihttp://sibiltala.blogspot.com/

Nazy Kavianihttp://nazykaviani.blogspot.com/

Peyvand Khorsandihttp://soulbean.wordpress.com/

Nikahang Kowsarhttp://nikahang.blogspot.com/

Omid Memarianhttp://omidmemarian.blogspot.com/

Pedram Moallemianhttp://www.eyeranian.net/

Ali Moayedianhttp://payvand.com/

Ebrahim Nabavihttp://www.doomdam.com/

Masoome Naseri http://www.mimnoon.com/

Sharnush Parsipur www.shahrnushparsipur.com/index.htm

Khodadad Rezakhanihttp://www.vishistorica.com/

Leva Zandhttp://balootak.com/

New Names added:

Adam-e Golabihttp://measer-pear.blogspot.com/

Mehrdad Aref-Adibhttp://www.aref-adib.com

Bamdad Iranihttp://bamdadi.com/

Darius Kadivarhttp://www.iranian.com/main/blog/darius-kadivar

Haji Kensingtonhttp://www.mibibi.com/

Yaser Kerachianhttp://vahid.blogspot.com

Foaad Khosmoodhttp://www.iranian.com/main/blog/foaad-khosmood

Mehran Mehrafshanhttp://xseer.com/

Seraj Mirdamadihttp://www.roozneveshtha.com/

Hadi Naserihttp://hadinaseri.blogfa.com/

Kaveh Nouraee http://www.iranian.com/main/blog/kaveh-nouraee

Shahrnush Parsipurhttp://www.shahrnushparsipur.com/

Cyrus Shahidihttp://andishehblog.wordpress.com/

Sameddin Ziaeehttp://sameddin-ziaee.blogspot.com/

Majid Zoharihttp://www.majidzohari.com/

The Loving Snow-woman

2008-12-16T07:08:00.000-08:00

My blogger friend, sweet Robert in Germany had promised to share a picture of his snowman in the house of his childhood when it snowed this year. He has made his snowman and has kindly shared its photo with us. Here it is! The surprising twist is that it is a sassy-looking snow-WOMAN! I love the smile and the arms raised in preparation for a hug! Her hair is awesome, too! What a great way to start a day. Absolutely lovely. Thank you Robert! Have a beautiful day everybody and stay warm!

P.S. I fixed the link on the videoclip on yesterday's post. Do take a look. It's one of the funniest things I have ever seen on YouTube!

Off to Monday!

2008-12-15T07:18:00.000-08:00

Five-year-old Daryon, is caught while trying to eat a popsicle for breakfast at 7:30 a.m. on the day after Thanksgiving. Simply precious! I don't know this child, but having raised children myself, I think I know him quite well! Brace yourselves and enjoy! (Sorry, it's in Farsi. If anyone is interested in knowing what is happening, just drop me a line and I will explain.)

Have a nice week everybody!

Sunshine and Onions

2008-12-14T14:16:00.000-08:00

Picture of food prepared at Alborz Restaurant in Austin, Texas. I wonder what Tameshk and Hossein think of this restaurant's food! It looks great, don't you think?

It's a cold, dark, and rainy Sunday. One might take such a day to be gloomy and melancholic. It isn't such a day for me! My son came home for the holidays yesterday. He will be around for several weeks now. I am actually caught up on most of my outstanding writing commitments, and for the first time in a few weeks I feel a little more in control of what's happening around me! I may have worried a few of my good friends by the disappearing act of the past few days, and for that I apologize! Heeh! I am chipping away at a very large photo essay I am writing about my life in the San Francisco Bay Area. The project is complicated, because hundreds of photographs have to be numbered and sequenced to match the chronology of the text I am writing. When I get caught in that maze, I can't find my way out to do other things!

In celebration of our first weekend together, my kids and I and their friend Ardavan will be having Chelo Kabab in a few minutes! I'm so excited to be eating my favorite food with my kids on a Sunday. Simple joys of life always impress me the most! I think I will have a big fresh onion with my lunch, too! We will go to see a movie together tonight. It's a beautiful and bright day for me, despite the weather. I hope you all are enjoying yourselves wherever you are, near and shoulder by shoulder of those you love most in life. I hope you reach out and kiss them if the urge hits you. As for me, I'll do that just before I eat my onion! Be good y'all!

My Book of Matches

2008-12-09T08:04:00.000-08:00

My beautiul friend and teacher, Dr. Zari Taheri, forwarded pictures of Zereshk harvest in Birjand, Khorasan, to me. Zereshk (Berberis vulgaris) is used as a dried fruit in Persian cooking. The fruit's taste is sour, so it is fried in butter and cooked with sugar, and a bit of saffroned water to create a sauce/mixture which blends well with Persian rice. Though Dr. Taheri had forwarded these pictures in a Peyvand link to me, I prefer using the original ISNA link for these photos to give their photographer, Amir Hossein Heydari his due credit.

O.K. So I'm walking down the road, observing "the signs*" these days. You know, like Paolo Coelho said* in his book, The Alchemist... I have been through a bit of confusion of late, and I'm trying to get on (and stay on!) the right path. And thinking about the signs I see, I'm thinking how many times have I been another person's sign/s...!? How many times the words I said, my actions, and my presence could have served to help another person to see his path more clearly?

I hope you all have a great day, full of good signs and candles, flashlights, lanterns, and projectors lighting up your paths, showing you to joy, peace, and happiness. I'm making do with a book of matches I have found somewhere, trying harder than I have ever tried in my life to see my way. Be good you all!

*“In his pursuit of the dream, he was being constantly subjected to tests of his persistence and courage. So he could not be hasty, nor impatient. If he pushed forward impulsively, he would fail to see the signs and omens left by God along his path.”

The Phoenix

2008-12-08T23:21:00.000-08:00

Sheraguime Yushij, son of Nima Yushij, recites his father's poem, "The Phoenix," or Qoqnoos. The music is by composer Ahmad Nadimi. Mr. Yushij and Mr. Nadimi both live in the Washington DC Area. I tried to find the English version of this poem, which is Nima's very first free form poem, changing the landscape of Persian poetry forever, but I was unsuccessful tonight. I will look for it again tomorrow. I'm exhausted, so I crawl to bed now, wishing you all a beautiful Tuesday.

Mi Gilan

2008-12-07T12:16:00.001-08:00

P.S. 12/18/2008: The video clip I had posted here earlier has been discontinued, unfortunately. In its place I have posted a picture of Gilan's rice paddies.

My friend sent me the link to this clip about Gilan. It made me very happy, remembering my beautiful memories of the land and people of Gilan. I thought I'd share it with you guys. I have said enough times that I am not from Gilan, but that through a bridge of love, I became an "Honorary Gilak!" Have a good day!

The Leaf That Hangs On

2008-12-07T01:32:00.000-08:00

Autumn in Kurdistan, Iran. Photo by Shahrooz Sharifinasab, Fars News, December 7, 2008. Look at that stubborn heart-shaped leaf. It is hanging on with all its might. What an important sign that one was to follow tonight!

I am working on something for work through the weekend. It is an important document and I want it to be perfect when I send it in on Monday. Today I had a quiet day working my way through my project, so when my younger son invited me to join him for a late lunch and a funny movie, I jumped for joy and followed him! I know I keep saying this, but he has turned into such an interesting young man, wise and thoughtful and responsible, with an interesting sense of humor.

Tomorrow I will continue working on my project and will go to catch a Berkeley Lecture Series presentation in the afternoon. Deljoo Abadi will be talking about the Qisas Laws of Iran, and Director Mahnaz Afzali will be presenting a screening of her film, Red Card. (UC Berkeley, Barrows Hall, Room 110, 4:00 p.m.).

Bayramali wrote something about Babak Bayat tonight and made me remember the late Iranian musician. He was a composer who wrote many memorable Iranian songs and film scores. I found a videoclip of him playing and singing along one of his songs with Mani Rahnama. I leave the link for you here, in case you are interested. He had such a beautiful and strong voice, too. He is making music in heaven now. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_1XyaoyFk0

Have a happy Sunday everybody and take care of those around you. Kiss them often, hug them, and if you have love in your hearts for anybody, make this the day you will tell them, even if you have never done it, even if you have done it a thousand times before. You won't regret it, I promise!

The Western Man's Music of Our Hearts

2008-12-04T22:57:00.000-08:00

Kees van den Doel plays Laleva, a Mazandarani tune on the Ney with an Iranian ensemble (I think their name may be Sheevash, but I'm not sure). Isn't that fabulous? I searched high and low for Mr. van den Doel on the internet, but couldn't find out much about him. Hopefully he will find us, as it has happened in the past! I want to know where he learned to play the Persian Ney like that!

Enjoy this fun and beautiful piece of music everybody, and have a great Friday! Oh, yes, I forgot to mention...I'm exhausted! I had to do some things for my friends and had to work on a bunch of writing for work today, so I'm all "typed" and "written" out! I promise to write something meaningful tomorrow, but I also promise not to bombard you with posts like I did last night! I had to peal myself away from the keyboard and take myself to bed last night, or I would have written five more posts, so you guys were spared! That occasionally happens to me, where I have too much emotion and too many thoughts to share, but luckily for you, it always passes! Whatever that burst of energy was, it has been put to good use and it's almost completely exhausted by this hour. Tomorrow will be a great day, I just know it!

Tonight's Last Thought...

2008-12-03T23:12:00.000-08:00

And one last thought tonight...

Remember the story of that four-leaf clover?

Two weeks ago, my son gave me his four-leaf clover for good luck.

These days I walk around remembering my son and my four-leaf clover all the time.

And I'm thinking, how can I get any luckier than this?

Through The Fire

2008-12-03T22:59:00.000-08:00

And sometimes,

All you need to do

Is to remember love

How you loved,

And how you were loved

Remember,

The mountains you moved for love

Remember,

The fires you walked through for love

Remember,

The mountains that were moved for you

Remember,

The one waiting for you

On the other side of fire

Remember,

The joys of love

And forget

The pain

Remember love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNLQ_hvWQh4

Two Embraces

2008-12-03T20:54:00.000-08:00

My coworker lost her brother last week. He suffered from bipolar disorder, lived alone, and took his own life. I saw my friend in our office kitchen today. What do you say to someone who has lost her only sibling in the world? How do you comfort her? I said to her what I remembered her having told me of this brother over the past year; how much she loved him and how hard she had tried to care for him. She was listening, as though she needed to hear an objective person tell her that she had done everything she could for someone with mental illness. As I was talking to her, I abandoned the words, reached out, and embraced her. She came to me like a child, looking for the arms of someone bigger, wiser, and stronger. We just stood there embracing for a while and we cried together. No more words. Our silence said all that needed to be said.

This afternoon, my coworker Mary Ann, stopped by my office. She was so happy, she came over and hugged me, smiling! She said her nephew announced his engagement to a young Iranian woman, named Susie over the Thanksgiving holiday! She said how nice this young woman is and how happy she and her family are to have her in their family now. She said Susie is beautiful and oh-so-kind and considerate. The two of us talked about this happy event in her life for a few minutes. My happiness was two-fold, one because my friend was so happy and the other for learning that a beautiful young Iranian had brought joy into another family's life. Mary Ann asked me if I had a relative by the name of Susie, and I laughed with joy, feeling happy that Mary Ann would want to be related to me! I said Susie is related to me through my culture and tradition and as a good ambassador of good Iranians, I consider her my family without having ever met her!

My life has meaning, for I am connected to a large family all around me. I am seeing and reading my signs these days.

Following The Signs

2008-12-02T23:17:00.000-08:00

Autumn in Golestan province of Iran. Photo by Sohrab Sardashti, Fars News, December 2, 2008.

This week has gotten off to a good start, it seems. I'm not superstitious, but I do believe in signs. Did you read Paolo Coelho's Alchemist? He talks about signs all through his book, one of my most favorite books in the world. I see signs around me which give me hope and strength for breaking out of my tough times of late. I received a phone call with mildly bad news yesterday. I hung up the phone and sat there thinking, "why am I not sad?" Then I tried to see how I did feel. This is when I realized I felt relief. I couldn't believe I was feeling relief at hearing bad news! I guess though the news wasn't good, knowledge of it felt good, hence the relief. In a somewhat twisted change, I felt lighter and happier afterwards. Does that make any sense to you?

Mehran came to see me in Berkeley after work today. We had such a good time sitting in a cafe, talking, and laughing. It felt good to hang out with a good friend and forget about everything else in the world for a couple of hours. I am so much lighter today than I have been in a while. I am following the signs.

Where Joy Was Planted

2008-12-01T21:31:00.000-08:00

Autumn in Mazandaran, Iran. Photo by Mohammad Rezaee, Fars News Agency.

For several weeks every autumn, our front yard and the blue pool in the middle of it would fill up with fallen leaves. The leaves were in so many different colors, yellow, orange, brown, and red. Our gardener, who had a name I have never heard since, Arabali, would sweep the leaves to a corner and fetch the ones in the pool, putting them in piles around the yard, until he could get a chance to collect them all and remove them. One of the funnest things my sisters and I used to do was to jump on the piles of leaves in the backyard, throwing them around and burying ourselves in them. We would leave a mess and if we were caught by my mother or Arabali himself, we had hell to pay! This never stopped us, though! That yard had so many of my childhood memories in it. From the spring roses around which we did our annual Nowruz photos, to the mulberry trees which come May would be filled with delicious fruit, to the pool which was our sanctuary during the summers, to the leaves which were our autumn joy, to the snowmen we would create during the winter, all my childhood is now planted in that yard. It's still around, you know? Well, modified and made a lot smaller, but I have gone back to see it again, and it's still there. Trees and plants have grown where those joys were planted, I know. I miss my childhood house's yard, but I am happy in the knowledge of the life that goes on in it, still.

The Persian Winter

2008-11-30T21:48:00.000-08:00

A fire crackles

A tray of nuts awaits

A book of poetry beckons

Inside, Hafez holds court

Wise and receiving

A bowl of pomegranate seeds winks

A candle burns bright and true

Mother’s quilt kind and soft

The long night outside

The Persian woman sits

Focused and hopeful

A prayer on her lips

The book warming her hands

The candle calling her close

The fire whispering her dreams

Mehr embracing her

As she opens the book

The long night outside

Wisdom said

Hopes expressed

Fears vanished

Tomorrow a beautiful image

Today a blissful addition

The Persian Winter looms

Warm and kind

Receiving and soothing

The long night outside.

Hamed Nikpay

2008-11-30T11:42:00.000-08:00

My talented friend, Hamed Nikpay sings "Deceit," or Fareeb from his new album, All is Calm. Some of this clip was filmed at Berkeley's Persian Center! I will be writing about Hamed again soon. Have a wonderful Sunday everybody!

Driving Through The Fog

2008-11-29T00:54:00.000-08:00

I went to visit with my family again tonight. We sat around the dinner table before, during, and after dinner, chatting and laughing with my cousins who are visiting from Iran. It was such a good time. These days more than ever, when I get together with my family it feels like I'm putting down some weight from my shoulders. I don't know how to describe it better. I just feel lighter and less dragged down when I leave them.

Afterwards, I got in my little car and started driving down the hill, through a winding road, towards the freeway. A thick fog had covered the road, rendering very low visibility. I could hardly see a few yards ahead of my headlights. I drove slowly and carefully. I turned off the radio, so that I could hear my environment better. Around a bend, my headlights caught the eyes of a deer, right by the side of the road. Soon I saw that he wasn't alone, there were two others with him. I wanted to yell at them and tell them to stay off that road, to go back into the woods and stay there, where it was safe and they wouldn't be run over by cars. They looked so sweet and loving to each other, two of them keeping the younger of the three behind them. They didn't startle me like deer by the roadside often do. I don't know why. I felt love and strength in their little family's excursion into my world. Did they have a message for me? Did I have a message for them? I continued on the dark and foggy road until I reached the main Road in Lafayette, where I noticed the trees covered in Christmas lights, as they always do during Thanksgiving weekend. Something about the routine and predictability of those lights and their glittering beauty made me smile. I realized that when you put some weight off your shoulders, you can see better, you can remember better, you can feel better. I think I'm seeing again.

Truth Time

2008-11-26T17:10:00.000-08:00

Asheegh musicians of Azerbaijan perform at Tehran's City Hall. Photo from Fars News.

Americans celebrate Thanksgiving Day tomorrow. It is a day when families gather around each other, have a sumptuous meal and say thanks for what they have in their lives. I am going to my older sister's house to be with friends and family. For the past 30 years, I have celebrated Thanksgiving. I have celebrated it in the US in a student one-bedroom suite, in houses filled with people and food, in Iran with family and friends, and at friends’ houses while travelling. It is a time for reflection and evaluation for me.

By all accounts this has been a hard year for me. I have cried more than I have during recent years, even through my saddest times. I have felt more than my fair share of compassion, sorrow, and love for others. I have had to say hello to some changes in my life and I have had to bid farewell to things and people who have been important to me in one way or another. In joy and in sadness, I have cried buckets this year!

I am grateful for my life, which is beautiful and full of love. I am thankful for my family and for my friends. I am thankful for you! I appreciate everyone’s good health and my family’s patience in dealing with what must have been a very hard year for some of them. My sweet and beautiful niece has been run down by a mysterious illness all year and the side effects of the medications she has been using have taken a toll on her beautiful and healthy body, that of a 21-year-old’s. My sweet aunt passed away this year and our family had to endure the loss with grace and love for one another.

I had to let go of some things which had grown dear and special to me. I couldn’t find a way to negotiate, to change course, or to think of alternatives. I just had to let go completely and spontaneously, without a chance to try changing things because the situations did not lend themselves to change. They had to be abandoned. That has left me sad and despondent. Well, what can I say? I have learned from the situations and hopefully, I will see them coming if they happens again.

I had my past visit me yet again. It was a sad time for me. I remembered all the hard work I had done for love, to keep things from deteriorating and how in the end, I had accepted that fate. When your past knocks on your door, you wonder about the cosmic reasons for it. Was it something I did wrong and I am now extended a chance to set it right? Could I have avoided what became inevitable? What would I do with my past in my present life? Could some things which caused so much pain in another time of my life bring me joy in this one? I doubt it. I had to let go of my past yet again, pulling myself up and looking ahead, the only thing I know how to do well!

Except for my kids, I neglected most of my other family members this past year. I spent a great deal of time by myself, thinking and doing things. That has not been good for my soul. A family’s love may not be entirely unconditional, but it is flowing and endless and in its very core, selfless. I need to be better at calling and visiting my kin, and now that I have relieved myself of some huge and time-consuming volunteer work I was doing, I think I may do just that.

It is a time to be thankful and appreciative of what still is, and letting go of what is no longer. I am embracing the chance. I am going to love life like there is no tomorrow. I am going to do better. Starting today. Happy Thanksgiving everybody. Enjoy your time together and be good. Eat as much as you like, laugh as much as you can, and when the little and big rascal family members, nieces and nephews and cousins go by, jump to your feet, go over, hug them, kiss them no matter how much they resist you, and shout in their ears: Dardet be joonam, I love you!

A Wednesday Dance

2008-11-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam performs a dance he choreographed himself, Faryad. I saw him perform this piece on stage last year. I have written about Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam and his efforts to bring back what was lost of traditional Persian dance when it was banned after Islam. Moshkin Ghalam believes parts of Persian dance can be seen in traditional Indian dances and some in Flamenco dances. A part of the research he is doing is to gather those pieces and re-construct the Persian dance. In his highly athletic as well as expressive dance pieces he tries to show us what he has accomplished so far. I can tell you to watch him perform live is to let yourself be mesmerized!

I wish you all a happy Wednesday everybody. I am working a short day today, so I will write more later!

P.S. Earlier this morning I had posted a clip of Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam's "Shir Ali Mardan" dance here. I received a comment from kind Cukoo. Reading that comment, I decided to change the clip and show you the one you can see now. This might be a better presentation of the emotion Moshkin Ghalam can put in his work. He is an actor first and foremost, did you know? He is a member of Paris' acclaimed Comedie Francaise. Cukoo Jan, thank you for the reminder and the challenge. I hope you enjoy this. You rock!

Memory of A Sign

2008-11-24T21:51:00.000-08:00

I found this picture in a German man's travelogue of his trip to Iran on a bicycle in 2002. This picture reminded me of a memory. I rememer we were having our annual family reunion in Rasht with my then in-laws. Guests were arriving from everywhere, including Tehran. A wonderful older lady, Azar Khanoom, had also come with her son, who was my friend on top of being related to me through marriage. When they arrived at Hotel Kadous in Rasht, I asked her son where Azar Khanoom was and he said she wasn't feeling well. I felt so bad for her, so I asked him what was the matter with her and whether she needed to be seen by a doctor. He said she had been in such a good mood for going to Rasht and so happy to be visiting with family. All through the drive to Rasht, she had been in a great mood until they had come upon these signs which say Peech-e-marg-avar, or "life threatening bends." He said when she saw the signs her mood changed and she became worried that they might have an accident and die around one of those bends! By the time they arrived, she had been so stressed out, she had to go to bed and rest! Heeh! We laughed so much and everytime I saw Azar Khanoom, I asked her about her experience on the Tehran-Rasht road! I think the transportation authorities went a little overboard with their warning, wouldn't you say?! The skeleton head is a real overkill, if you forgive the pun! Anyhow, the picture reminded me of sweet memories and I thought I would share.

Considering everything, I had a relatively good day today. Thank you all so very much for your good wishes and good vibes. They helped a lot! Have a great Tuesday everybody!

Hope

2008-11-23T22:11:00.000-08:00

Sweet Robert sent me this picture today. He is an inspirational blogger in Germany. I am so fortunate our paths have crossed. Thank you Robert for always visiting me and for sounding so kind and supportive.

I end a weekend full of solitary activity and self search. I attended long-neglected chores around my house and exhausted and spent, I feel peaceful and ready for tomorrow. Your kind and positive vibes have reached me, whether you left me a comment, sent me a note, or sent them the way of the universe. I am in receipt of good feelings and positive thoughts. Thank you.

I hope the new week is full of good news and happy events for you all. This will be a short week for us, as beginning on Thursday, we will have a four-day holiday weekend for Thanksgiving. There is so much to be thankful for in my life. My nieces and nephews and son will be coming home beginning Tuesday night, and we will have a large family gathering at my sister's house on Thanksgiving Day. A lot of good things to await. Peace be with all of you.

Happiness Trainees

2008-11-23T00:18:00.000-08:00

Some of the best joys in life are free. If we are lucky enough to run into them and recognize their value, our attitudes and approaches to life can be reset and setup with unlimited cheer and happiness. Take a look at this video clip. It shows two little girls dance a Lezgi dance to sweet Azeri music. They are what I call "dancers and happy people in training!" I hope you enjoy watching this as much as I did tonight, when I really needed the cheer. Enjoy!

Coming Up for Air

2008-11-22T22:33:00.000-08:00

I call this one, "Women Talking on a Summer's Afternoon." The painting is by Narges Hashemi, and I took it from here.

I am working through some hard times. I have had to make some major adjustments to my way of thinking about my life's priorities. Some of what I'm tackling is freeing me of things which have bothered me for a while, weighing me down, making movement difficult for me. Some of it is making me sad. They are necessary steps I have known for a long time I must take, so I take them with as much courage as I can muster. Heeh! I must sound so mysterious to you, all of a sudden! I'm struggling here, so please bear with me. I will write about them when I feel better.

I cleaned my house today and spent time with my younger son who was acting so grown-up and mature, supportive and kind beyond words. Tomorrow I will continue with my various cleanup projects around the house, finding the small accomplishments therapeutic and rewarding. I have an important day ahead on Monday. I will appreciate any and all good vibes you can send my way. Believe it or not, I do believe in the power of good vibes; I send them often myself and feel them when I receive them. I'm hoping that the changes I have put into motion will generate enough energy to pick me up from a rough patch of life and tide me over to better times.

I wish all of you a happy weekend with your loved ones, filled with joy and peace. Be good y'all.

Kiosk in San Francisco

2008-11-18T19:52:00.000-08:00

Camera time! I went to see Kiosk perform in San Francisco last Friday night. My friends had come along, too, making it a very special occasion to be in the company of great music and friendship. His Majesty was there. Bayramali was there, too. Poor Leva had been so sick, but she and Vahid had somehow managed to come. Beautiful people! Ehsan was there, too, but no Maryam (boo hoo hoo, I miss her!).

Kiosk are taking their new Album, Global Zoo, Bagh-e-Vahsh-e-Jahani, on the road. It's a great album you guys! I got my CD! We had a treat, because the great young Iranian composer and guitarist, Babak Amini was at the concert. Superb!

I went with Omid. He is finishing his last year of graduate studies at Berkeley's School of Journalism.

I ran into so many of my good friends. This is Avideh Zahedi. She is a sculpture artist. She is also a very sweet and funny woman.

I also ran into Maryam and Ali, who were exuberant and joyful as usual. A great young couple.

Hadi had brought his brother Javad, and I got a chance to see sweet Jeerjeerak and Babak, my wonderful blogger friends. Too bad we couldn't see each other more. Left to right, Ehsan, Hadi, Babak, Leila, and Javad.

Out on the patio, were my other friends Lale Welsh, Babak Khiavchi of Kiosk, and Bruce Bahmani. Bruce said his new Rostam comic book is coming out soon. Great!

I tried to get a picture of Leva which she would let me use. It's hard, you know! She is sooo picky!

Kiosk sang their hearts out for us. It was really wonderful. When the song Jaddeh-ye-Khoshbakhti was up, Arash dedicated it to Luna (Shad), the love of his life. That was so sweet you guys. Look at this short clip of one of their new songs.

Dance of Hope

2008-11-16T22:16:00.000-08:00

Paris-based Iranian dancer, Sahar Dehghan, performs a modern dance with a Persian inspiration. Music and cello by Homayoun Khosravi. I wonder if my friend, Sabereh Kashi, made this video. It's beautiful music and a beautiful dance by a beautiful dancer. Enjoy!

I hope you guys have a good week ahead of you. I am struggling with some hard things and I hope to be free of a lot that bothers me these days soon. Any good vibes sent my way will be greatly appreciated! Who knows? Maybe when I'm free of all that keeps me bugged down these days, I can tell you some great stories! My pains always turn into good stories with hindsight! For my part and as always, I send each and every one of you waves of love and good wishes. Be good y'all.

Ross Mirkarimi in Berkeley

2008-11-13T23:10:00.000-08:00

This coming Sunday, November 16, 2008, Berkeley Lecture Series and Iranian Student Alliance in America (ISAA) will host San Francisco Supervisor Ross Mirkarimi at a lecture on "The Historical Election Results." Ross (Rostam) is an Iranian American politician and one of the founders of California Green Party. He has an impeccable record of fostering diversity, community outreach, environmental policies, and good city management. He was recently re-elected as City of San Francisco's District 5 Supervisor. Ross is also a friend of mine. When his campaign first kicked off last May, I did a report of the event which was published here. (Heeh! If you go look at my report and photos, you can even see me in picture 25 next to Reza!). I am delighted for his overwhelming victory and I look forward to hearing his talk on Sunday. The man is an excellent orator with a voice unlike any other's! Come see for yourselves if you live in these parts. The lecture will be at 4:00 p.m. at UC Berkeley's 110 Barrows Hall. Here's a campus map.

Kiosk in San Francisco

2008-11-13T00:22:00.000-08:00

Deutsche Welle has prepared a report of Kiosk's performance in Bonn during their recent tour. I know several members of the band and a couple of them are my friends. But that's not why I love listening to these guys! I love their music. I'm going to see Kiosk in San Francisco this Friday night. They will be performing in other cities, too. Here's the tour program information, in case you want to catch one of their shows. They are fabulous.

On a less fabulous note, some things have been happening around me which are bugging me. I can't talk about them yet and I don't want to pretend to anything, so I cut this post short and go to bed. I'll come back and write a better post when I'm in a better mood. Yes, I'm having a very human moment! Be good y'all.

Love Songs

2008-11-11T20:49:00.000-08:00

Ebi sings Ghebleh, one of my most favorite love songs.

Do you have a love song you would like to share with me?

It's that kind of night!

Be good and happy everybody. Don't forget love!