Thursday
December 24, 1998
Christmas
Not even a mouse
Mom would always read " 'twas the night before Christmas..."
By Khordad
It seems that every year I reject more and more those things I label
American. In recent years, I have been boycotting the idea of Christmas.
Since I am not Christian, the religious aspects of it have never really
appealed to me. It's the commercialization and the Americanism of Christmas
I have chosen to reject. But inevitably, every year, at the last minute,
I get sucked in.
This Christmas though was a little different. As I was aimlessly attempting
to find my car on the wrong level of the parking garage at Pentagon City,
dragging around this enormous box of dishes I had bought for my sister
and cursing the store clerk for not heeding my command to pack the dishes
in two smaller boxes, I had a stark epiphany.
I should have seen it coming. It had been building up for weeks. You
see, this whole season, I had been remembering a time when Christmas was
nice. Quite a different memory than those I have had since I have been
in the United States. This year, for the first time in a long while, I
remembered Christmas in Iran ... GO TO FEATURE
Go to top
Wednesday
December 23, 1998
Identity
Nothing like a book
Depressed? Homesick? Pick up a good Persian book
By Ali A. Parsa
Dear Mr. Masood Rad,
I was very much touched by your
letter in The Iranian Times. I, too, have been in America for
about a total of thirty years, both as a student and resident. I hope you
are familiar with the American expression "Misery likes company."
I have personally found reading Persian literature very soothing and
the best means of coping with bouts of mild depressions. Fortunately, in
addition to our traditional masterpieces such as the works of Sa'adi, Hafez,
Khayyam, Molavi, etc., many Persians have written great books in recent
years that are both enlightening and entertaining. There are also musical
tapes and CD's available, some of which might help. I love traditional
music but nothing helps me more than good books.... GO TO FEATURE
Go to top
Tuesday
December 22, 1998
Fiction
I dream of you still
Lying in a pool of black ink
By Khordad
I remember the night I found you. It had been a long day and I was looking
forward to being alone. I'm ashamed to say that I was relieved to find
the lights off when I first got home. When I did find you though, lying
there, lifeless, in the dark, it took me a few seconds to realize what
had happened. The reflection of light made it seem as if you were lying
in a pool of black ink. My first reaction was to clean up. Clean the house,
clean the bathroom. Clean you. Dress you. I wanted to cover your naked
body that left you so vulnerable. I wanted to make you presentable, before
a hoard of strangers accosted our house to find you lying there, as I had,
lifeless, drenched, in your own blood ... GO TO FEATURE
Go to top
Monday
December 21, 1998
Cover story
Eprime
In fond memory of Eprime Eshag; friend, economist (1918-1998)
By Ebrahim Golestan
The following was read at last month's cremation ceremony for Eprime
Eshag:
In a short while the body of Eprime will return to the purity of basic
elements. The memory of what he was will remain with some of us. Our memory
of him is the essence of his existence as reflected in the polished, or
tarnished, mirror of our mind.
The image that I have of him is of bold sincerity. He was nothing if
not sincere. The sincerity was always critical. He was nothing if not critical.
The alert analysis that he would make of problems and people, and his almost
immediate evaluation of events and situations was, most of the time, judged
as abrasive and authoritarian -- by a lethargic and convention-bound mundane
majority ... GO TO FEATURE