About an hour later Craig came to me demanding to know what I had told the Arab! The president had said to report suspicious activity.
…
Another one of those days I remember coming home and finding the landlord on the stoop. He wanted his rent. Told him to wait while I ran upstairs to get my wallet. A few moments later Craig again was yelling down the staircase about why I had left the door open. Was it, he wanted to know, to let Arabs come in and take refuge in the house?
…
Paul who was carrying an American flag with him everywhere now, wanted to know why the people from my side of world were so “uncivilized?”
…
When US decided to attack Afghanistan, I was still worried about my civil and human rights. It seemed like anything could be done to anyone. And whom could I count on to help me? Paul the Democrat? Craig the Democrat who had voted for Nader?
John wanted to drink, and so we spent a lot of time at the Brooklyn Tavern drinking Stella and Boddingtons. It was during these conversations that it became more and more clear to me that I could not separate myself from the place I had come from. If some idiots in Iran still yell death to this and that, it is my responsibility to do something about that… if I don't want the Marines to shit all over the place.
I could escape half the world away thinking that I have nothing to do with the mullahs anymore, but I won't ever be free by running away from the troubles in my own home.
It wasn't until U2 came around that I felt a little bit more adjusted and could think a bit less fearfully. An old “Speaking Freely” student of mine had gone and stayed in line all night long to pick up tickets for us. We were on the floor to the side of the stage. I screamed all night long. There were only very few things that one couldn't leave behind.
