Feature writer

EmaiL: [email protected]

April 17, 2001
Salaam aaghaa
My father was trying to get my mother to the Portland airport during rush hour traffic when the car behind SLAMMED into his rear bumper. The kid who had rear-ended him, followed behind and got out of the car and said, "Salaam, aaghaa. Bekhodaa nemidoonam chi shod!"

March 10, 2000
Apple pie
I'm like that the apple pie the ESL teacher described. I may appear Iranian, but when I open my mouth to speak, I sound American.

February 1997
Where have all the children gone?
I look over the top of the majestic elm trees that ripple down the length of the park blocks in the summer and I wonder why children can't take advantage of such beauty. Where have all the children gone? "They're playing Nintendo and watching television."

September 1996
Vacationing American style
In late August, I set out to go to Westport, Washington a tiny coastal town of about 2,500 people. I work and go to school at Portland State University. I badly needed a vacation. A friend of mine has a friend who owns a tiny cabin there and she graciously offered to give me the key to the place. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. It was around 80 degrees, sunny with a bit of a breeze. What can anyone ask for? Well, a television, a radio, and a firm bed wouldn't hurt.

July 1996
Changing times, changing roles
I hoisted myself up in my seat. The discussion around me was becoming more interesting and the television program was getting more tiresome. Somehow the conversation was diverted toward the role of women in Iran versus the role of women who had moved to the United States. What was the role of women before and how it has changed in recent years.

May 1996
Indentity Crisis: Part II
The last article I wrote regarding identity crisis raised some questions and I'm sure some eyebrows. There are some Iranians who despite having changed their name to something Anglo-Christian did not support my ideas, nor my true story. "What?" they said incredulously, "Your brother must have some emotional problems."

March 1996
Identity Crisis: Who am I?
We all know a lot of us left Iran without having any control over our destinies. Our parents decided that we should leave and we did. Some of us were even too young to remember anything of the old country. I'm referring to us, the confused generation of Iranians. We don't know if we should call ourselves, Iranian, American, or Iranian-American.

January 1996
In search of fate
Translation of a short story by Samad Behrangi

March 1996
Lavashak blues
A friend of mine who recently went to Iran came back and sent me a package of lavashak, an Iranian snack of plum pulp spread into thin layers and dried into sheets. At first, the fragrance of the plums and the sour taste brought back all the memories of childhood for me.

September 1995
Pulled away from the Caspian
I never thought that a powerful force, the sands of time so to speak, would grab me by my soul and rip me away from the environment in which I felt most comfortable. I never thought that the summer of 1978, perhaps, would be the last summer I would set eyes on the Caspian Sea.


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