my childhood is split into memories of many places

early: South Carolina
wrapped in memories of the ocean
trees and hills
playing in the red clay with lizards and toads
Baha’i Feast with just two families (homefront pioneers)
wrapped in Persian rugs
“Mommy, look, we did our makeup!”
Black and white and color was not something I knew

Billy Joe fell in love with me in kindergarten. He was a small, skinny boy with a mullet, and I was a fastiduous little girl with dark brown hair and big eyes. He said that he and his brother lived in a tree house. He always had fantastic stories, but I did not like him back. He insisted that we should get married. I told him that we should bury the symbol of his love at the base of the pine tree on the playground so that no one would know. (I still feel a little bad about that.)

There was a girl in my class with long nails, painted red. I did not know of any other first-grader who had such long nails. And she chewed on them ferociously, the paint flaking off and so the nail color was never unbroken and complete.

Theresa had a wonderful back yard. There was a seesaw, a forest, and best of all, a rope swing hidden in the trees. We spent hours balanced on the board, pushing each other, telling stories and whispering of the future.

My sister and I had our own language. We made up names for the parts of the “forest” (our back yard). There was the “Haunted” section, which is where squirrels went to die. We found out later that the neighbor was poisoning them. There was the Toad Cemetery, where toads were buried in the jewelry boxes that my mother donated to our cause. And then we had our House, which was only created when we took sheets or pieces of cloth to the saplings there and draped them, making a secret fort in the leaves.

When I would get angry, my small legs would carry me to my swingset, where I would fly in the air until slowed by gravity, and incrementally come to a stop. I needed to be alone for a few moments.

My sister and I caught toads for our birthday party. Ten little girls in party dresses ran screaming when we proudly pulled them out for display. I remember my father and uncle bent over double, laughing uncontrollably. That may have been when I decided that boys were more fun to play with than girls.

Fire ants. As a barefoot child, fire ants are the bane of any intrepid little explorer, and I don’t remember how many times I ran screaming to my parents. They had an impressive collection of first aid gear, with good reason.

I stepped on nails, fell from trees, fell everywhere, bruises and cuts a constant companion. Sliced open my forehead on a kitchen cabinet. I can’t forget the terror in my mother’s eyes as she placed me on the bathroom counter and held a towel to my head while she called my father.

More pages will be devoted to other places, soon.

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I never have more than five minutes to write. If there were more minutes there would be more pages. Forgetting more than remembering.

My feet ache with two miles walked under heavy bags, with the feeling of concrete next to damp grass. I pulled out my old t-shirt from university, spread it out carefully, and sat on it with my new jeans on. No point in grass stains. The sun stained my skin and warmed my cold toes and reminded me of sitting in the sun with you (in the stars with you), across the world.

Three children ran in the water, with shrieks and splashing. Parents were only slightly dismayed, and mostly amused.

I don’t know where these words are going anymore.

We will tell stories, someday, about how each cup of coffee turned into long evenings with cookies and smiles. Our little words will grow into bigger words, and every person will have a place in my home. We will travel across the world to spend precious days and sing into the sky. All of us will have memories and whispers and real things like libraries, ballet lessons, family dinners, scuba diving, prayer, song, building forts out of sheets, working on a masterpiece, ice cream, exploring the world, warm blankets and hot chocolate.

Our little victories will be celebrated, and our tragedies wrapped in soft white paper and gently laid to rest. Letters and post cards will trot happily to their new owners. There is maybe an infinite number of these hearts that I am holding, and you have pieces of mine nestled softly in the corners of yours. All of you.

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My friend Ronnie recently asked me to join a project that he started with Baha’i friends from several different countries. There are 6 of us, from London, Los Angeles, New York, Paris, Singapore, and Chicago (me).

Every week we each post a picture that corresponds to a theme. This week’s theme was “Urban Jungle”. I am in awe at the talent and different perspectives that come from these individuals. It has been really great to have a project to work on while I’m looking for a job…being a part of something, you know?

http://nylon.my-expressions.com

Check it out, and spread the word.

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the waves of the salty blue-green sea lifted me
in my turmoil and tears
you joined me and I can’t forget that.
I needed laughter
there was too much heartache
you whispered
and there was peace in the stars.

There is too much to say.
I wish I had more to say.
You always read these words better than anyone else.

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I’ve had time to read a few books. I think that it has been nine months since I last wrote about my reading list, so it has had time to pile up a bit. In addition to the books listed here, I’ve read a number of fictional books, but there are too many to list.

Billions of Entrepreneurs: How China and India Are Reshaping Their Futures-and Yours, by Tarun Khanna
-Less about entrepreneurship, more about comparing, contrasting, explaining the cultures, politics, business strategies, and infrastructures of China and India, using case studies and personal experience.

What Mad Pursuit: A Personal View of Scientific Discovery, by Francis Crick
-More of a commentary on the scientific process, it can be a slow read but it is a small book.

I Capture the Castle, by Dodie Smith
-Written in 1948, I immediately thought that this book could have been set in the modern day. I loved the style of writing, which was descriptive. Written as the personal journal of a 17 year old girl, it was made into a movie (which I have not seen).

The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America, by Erik Larson
-If you love Chicago, this is a book you will want to read. It is the story of the creation of the 1893 World’s Fair, as well as a serial killer who lived in Chicago at the same time as the Fair.

The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss
-Beautiful, poetic writing, with a great plot twist at the end.

The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini
-A heartbreaking work of fiction about betrayal and forgiveness.

Gluten-free Girl: How I Found the Food That Loves Me Back…and How You Can Too, by Shauna James Ahern
-This book actually made me want to cook more. I got into Shauna’s writing by reading her blog, and her descriptions of food are amazing. Even if you can eat food with gluten in it, this is a valuable book to read in order to understand how people with gluten intolerance have to deal with food in American society.

Eat, Pray, Love One: Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia, by Elizabeth Gilbert
-Kind of an interesting story, but the author is self-absorbed. I know that this book was a best-seller, but I’ve never been the “find yourself” type, and so books like this generally annoy me.

Baha’i books:

Gate of the Heart: Understanding the Writings of the Báb, by Nader Saiedi (still reading)
-(from Baha’i Bookstore) “Taking an interdisciplinary approach, the author examines the Báb’s major works in multifaceted context, explaining the unique theological system, mystical worldview, and interpretive principles they embody as well as the rhetorical and symbolic uses of language through which the Báb radically transforms traditional concepts and at times reverses their meanings.”
I have always loved the Writings of the Báb and stories associated with Him, so when I heard about this book while serving in Haifa, I knew I had to read it.  I can’t wait to finish it.

Zikrullah Khadem, Itinerant Hand of the Cause of God With Love, by Javidukht Khadem
-I had the blessing of growing up near Mrs. Khadem (who passed away over a year ago), and to read this book was a wonderful glimpse into their lives together, and allowed me to know a little bit more about Mr. Khadem, Hand of the Cause of God. Their children also include some stories and thoughts at the end of the book.

The Advent of Divine Justice, by Shoghi Effendi
-The Guardian wrote this letter to the American Baha’is to discuss its challenges and opportunities.  A must read, especially for Baha’is living in the USA.

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There was this man that we saw every day.  He was neither young nor old, tall or short.  Slightly balding, with a mustache, the kind of man that would blend into the background.

He walked up the four steps to his elderly mother’s house, sometimes with bags of groceries, unfailingly polite and slightly shy.  The five women of our house knew who he was, but only one or two of us ever found out his name.  He brought his mother outside, gently unfolding her wheelchair on the sidewalk and guiding her into it.

The old Italian neighborhood still looks the same.  There is fresh paint on some of the houses, including ours (it is still “our” house, even though none of the original roommates are there).  The prices have gone up at the old hot dog stand and there are new buildings over by the hospital, but the streets end in the same places and the sidewalk still leads to the train.

Wandering with a purpose.  Even when I have nowhere in particular to go, I have a hard time sitting still.  The idea of park benches and peaceful afternoons is appealing in theory, but in the five years of residence there seemed to be little opportunity.

Going back to the old haunts is too painful, still.  There is too much attached to those places, little moments that eat away at me if I let them stay too long.  Unwelcome guests, they settle in the corners of my brain.

I remember the clack clack of boots on city sidewalks, it is comforting to hear when there are hundreds of people swarming to get home or drown their sorrows or listen to the latest podcast or watch the football game or eat dinner or hug their three children.

Chicago in the rain and fog is a heartbreaking place, the buildings are stark and bright against the glow of sky.  Invest in a warm coat and a strong heart, and a comfortable pair of shoes.

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I got hungry when we came home from Baha’i Feast tonight at 11 pm. Being the slightly ridiculous person that I am when it comes to food, I decided to get creative.

Ingredients:
chopped onions & ginger
ground beef
quinoa
shredded mozzarella
tomatoes
cilantro

Fry the onions, ginger, and beef.  At the same time, cook the quinoa in a separate pot according to the instructions on the package.  Combine the beef and quinoa, and sprinkle the mozzarella over it.  Chop the tomatoes and cilantro and put it on the side.

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Well hey, look at that.  My birthday kind of surprised me this year (that might be a first).

This is me at 9 days old.  I still have that blanket.  It is, of course, in perfect condition.

I was born at 8:19 pm on the Mississippi River (in a hospital, not actually on the riverbank or something).

I am 25 years old today.  Hello, world.

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The weekend before last I drove to Kansas City with some friends for the wedding that we now call “Lovefest 2008″, otherwise known as Andrew & Erin’s wedding.  Here are some things that I learned:

- You can’t rent a car without a credit card, and the person with the credit card has to be the main driver.  This was discovered on the morning that we were to leave.  Luckily we were saved by a friend and made it to the wedding.

- It was confirmed that Iowa is still full of corn.  Hasn’t changed since the last time I drove through it.

- We got a lot of attention at a gas station in Missouri.  Apparently the attendents were extremely bored.  We also bought Amish-made goods from a very sweet Amish family.

- Cracker Barrel has nearly nothing for gluten-intolerant or vegetarian individuals.  You should have seen our faces when we looked at the menu.

- My friends are amazing, rare individuals and it is very sad that we all live so far away from each other.

- Even though I am allergic to cats, and don’t like them very much anyway (more of a dog person), cats LOVE me.  I’m like the cat whisperer.  It is really weird.

- I love, love, love weddings. Having the opportunity to read at this wedding was such a blessing, and I was honored to be a small part of it. They are such a beautiful couple and I’m so happy for them!

This past weekend I had a lot of family in town from my mother’s side, and it was also the Conference of the Association of Friends of Persian Culture. Here are a few tidbits from that time:

- My family is great, and every time I hang out with them I see more of where I come from. It is so strange and wonderful to find out things about myself and my history, and I know these opportunities are rare.

- I actually enjoyed going to most of the sessions, there were some highly academic talks and I really missed being in that atmosphere.

- I got very little sleep, as is normal for a conference, and stayed up late with friends, talking about the good old days and laughing. Much needed.

Posted in Baha'i, Family, Friends, Personal, Travel | Comments (2)