Remembering Kristopher Kolumbus
By Golnar Fozi
November 28, 2003
You and I have never met, but I have contributed
two pieces to the Iranian.com, both of which happened to be about
my own mother ["First
day of school", "But
then I touch her hands"].
You published my second piece this past Mother's Day, and you embedded
a note wishing
your own mom
a happy day. That's when I found out that Kristopher
Kolumbus was your mom. Please
accept this little note by way of my deepest condolences.
Your mother's writing had a way of infuriating me
and attracting me at the same time. I read her articles a few times
each, trying to figure out what
trying to tell the reader, and becoming more confused with each reading.
You could tell this lady could write and had a lyrical way with words,
yet she was
impossible to understand.
I swore off her articles every time, and then
you would print another one and there I was again, squinting at
to figure out what this person was saying.
About two weeks ago, when I read the last thing
you had published from her, I decided to ask someone else's
opinion. I sent an Instant Message
from college, a trained journalist who did a stint as a U.S. Diplomat
abroad for a few years.
I asked her to go on Iranian.com and read
on the front page by Kristopher Kolumbus["Shit!
At the blue cafe"?]. A few minutes later, she IM'ed
what about this?" I asked, What do you think about it? She wrote
reminds me of one of those instant translation machines we used at the
State Department where the words came out in English but and we could
not quite understand
what the foreign dignitary was saying."
That was a perfect description!
Then my friend IM'ed again,
"But you can tell this woman can
What artist wouldn't be happy to know that her talent
was recognized by her audience, and that she infuriated them and
made them think?
about your mother
other than what I just read ["iranian.com's
mother died"]- that
she had traveled to Spain by herself, perhaps to devote herself
and perhaps to
experience life somewhere new. I imagined she enjoyed herself and
worked on her art until
the very end, independently, energetically, and inspired by all
that she saw.
In the southern U.S., where I did part of my growing
we say with
that someone like that "died with her boots on."
With warmest regards and deepest condolences to
you and your family during this difficult time,
Golnar J. Fozi
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