Daily Archives: June 29, 2009

A Final Note

Until now these Breadcrumbs have been my own words. Today I need to make an exception.

 The current turmoil in Iran is coming home to  National Writers Union of DC member Dr. Sakhineh (Simin) Redjali.  She lived through the first Iranian Revolution in 1979 and is living through the second one now in Northern Virginia.  She has delayed writing the final chapter of her autobiography until she sees how it will end.  Simin is in constant contact with many people in Iran, and hears regularly from former students from the National University of Iran, where she was the first woman professor of psychology, and from Shemiran College, which she founded and headed. 

 She forwarded this blog note to the NWUDC:

 By a blogger in Tehran

 Tomorrow is a big day, maybe I’ll get killed tomorrow!

I will participate in the demonstrations tomorrow. Maybe they will turn violent. Maybe I will be one of the people who is going to get killed. I’m listening to all my favorite music. I even want to dance to a few songs. I always wanted to have very narrow eyebrows. Yes, maybe I will go to the salon before I go tomorrow!

There are a few great movie scenes that I also have to see. I should drop by the library, too. It’s worth to read the poems of Forough and Shamloo again.

All family pictures have to be reviewed, too. I have to call my friends as well to say goodbye.

All I have are two bookshelves which I told my family who should receive them.

I’m two units away from getting my bachelors degree but who cares about that. My mind is very chaotic.

I wrote these random sentences for the next generation so they know we were not just emotional and under peer pressure. So they know that we did everything we could to create a better future for them. So they know that our ancestors surrendered to Arabs and Mongols but did not surrender to despotism. This note is dedicated to tomorrow’s children…


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Moving Day

Home had always been the little bungalow on South Woodlawn Avenue. She stood in her empty bedroom. It looked bigger without her bed and dresser – now loaded in the back of Uncle Bill’s truck. Her bed had a metal headboard with hundreds of tiny holes just the size of the tips of her five year old fingers. She and her daddy had played a game. He would place his hand behind the headboard and cover one of the holes with his finger. She would try to touch his finger on the other side before he could move it. She liked the sensation of touching her daddy’s fingers through the headboard. She loved her daddy.  She walked from room to room. She walked into the closet of the room where her mama and daddy had slept. The closet was empty but she could still smell her daddy’s after shave lotion. She stayed there for a long time in the dark inhaling the  scent of her daddy.

Her mama had said they were all going home now. She was confused. This was home. Home was the green house with the gum ball trees in the front yard where she and her daddy and stretched out on army blanket and eaten bologna sandwiches. Now, she walked around the front yard picking up gumballs. She filled the pockets of her yellow dress. The one with the sash that her mama could never tie just right. She always ended up taking her next door to Mrs. Evans’ house. “Blair, will you tie this girl’s sash for me? I don’t know why it always looks cockeyed when I do it.”

She wondered who was going to tie her sash at the place where they were going…the place that would be their new home.

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