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Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Yes, Yes, But I Can Explain 

I have been woefully neglectful of this little outlet. It is not that I have nothing to say, and certainly not the inability of the current political skirmishes and cronyism to inspire, but I have been distracted.

Last August, I discovered that a girl I knew in High School some 26 years ago in Tehran, was living just a few miles from me. At the end of our Senior year, we dated a few times, and hit it off quite well. She went of to University in Strasbourg, then Paris. I ended up at a community college in Spokane, and later WSU. Though we wrote letters for two years, the distance was too much. We, or at least I, despaired that I would ever see her again, and in the grind of daily life, I quit writing.

Today, a coach ticket to Paris is available for $500 or so. Back in '79, before deregulation was effective, a coach ticket to Paris was closer to $4000, or $10000 in today's dollars. I didn't have the money. I was too proud to ask her for money. And we both had conservative parents, though she in particular.

But back to the story at hand. I hope some will find it entertaining. below is the story, as I shared it with my High School classmates, who tipped me off that she was nearby.

Hello everyone.

I thought I would share a little tale with you, a story some few of
you already know.

Over the week or three between graduation and leaving Iran, I visited a friend
a few times. Four times, to be exact.

She went to university in Strasbourg. I went to Spokane, worked,
and started Community College. We wrote letters, and sometimes spoke
on the phone. For two years. After the first year, she moved to
Paris. She invited me to visit. I had no money. I was sad.

My dad, still in Tehran, arranged for me to visit him, planning on
late summer of 1979 before school resumed. I schemed with her to
detour through Paris on my return to the States. Then there was this
little revolution thing, and those plans were shelved. Permanently.
After a time, I stopped writing, and she stopped writing, and I
assumed she had found a boyfriend. That was May 1980.

A little later, I got involved with somebody. Years go by. Many
years. I get married. I get married again. I get single twice. Life
goes on. When I had a quiet moment, I would wonder what became of
her.

Now and then I would run into or discover someone from CHS. Small
world. 70+ people in the class, and you keep running into them among
a few hundred million. In February of this year, Bob J**** and
Sherry E**** invite me to join a group on Yahoo. I do, and it is
quiet, two or three messages a month from February to July.

Suddenly the list traffic explodes. Almost five hundred messages in
August. Wow. One of the messages mentions her, and gives a phone
number. It is a local Seattle metro area code. That got my attention.

No way, couldn't be.

So I call the number. Voicemail. Female voice. Could be her. I
leave a stumbling message explaining who I was, and who I thought I
might have found. It was Thursday. I waited. I waited until Tuesday
the next week, and I couldn't stand it any more. I called again.

A guy answered. Flustered and irritated, he explained nobody named
**** lived there. Oh well, the number was from the summer of
2000. Someone else has it now.

But I was curious. If she was here, maybe there were some electronic
footprints. So I Googled. And I got a hit. Somebody named ****
passed their law boards last summer.

So I peeked in county records online. Somebody named ****
got married in 1994. Well, that is good, but sad.

Oh wait, here is **** getting her name changed in 2002. Not
married? Well, that is good, but sad.

And there is an address on the document. Hmmm….

So I send a greeting card to that address. Local mail normally takes
two days. If she has moved, figure another three days to forward. I
put the card in the mail on Sunday. I might get a call by Friday.
Saturday, the card came back. No forwarding address. Sigh.

Five days pass. Then it occurs to me, I did not do the obvious. I did
not look up her new name in the phone book.

Bingo!!

I called Thursday evening. A gentleman answered. I started to explain
who I was, and who I was seeking. He didn't care. "I'll take a
number, she'll call you."

So I start giving him my phone number. After the first six digits, he
is ready to hang up. I catch him, give him the last four, and he is
in shock. Ten numbers in your phone number? I deduce he is not a
local.

Monday, still no call back. Does she not remember? Does she not care?
I need an explicit answer. I call again, around 7:PM. Voicemail this
time. Again, I explain who I am, and who I seek.

At 10:PM, I go to bed.

At 10:30, I get a call.

It is her. Over the next few days, the next few weeks, we
spend hours on the phone. I am trying to retain a rational
perspective. It has been a few years, and we have both lived and
changed a lot. I try to consider myself a new friend who came with a
good introduction, and try not to over romanticize the situation.
We arrange to meet on the coming Saturday.

The guy who took the message? Her father. We had met, twenty-six
years ago. He wrote down my name as Gary. He didn't remember me.
Probably just as well...

Ahh, yes. Saturday. Well, a funny thing happened on Friday.
She called, and said Saturday was not possible.

So we met Friday night.

We arranged to meet at her office. We arranged to meet at 6:PM, which
would give me time to get off work, deal with the dog, and make it to
Bellevue.

As fate would have it, that morning I was meeting the alarm installer
at my house, and he was late, and slow. I think they compete with the
cable guys for worst possible service. It was after 2:PM when he was
done. I knew if I went back to work at this point, I would be there
until 6, or later. I find it hard to walk away from an unfinished
task. Plus, I was anxious, and nervous. What would greet my eyes when
I re-met ****?

So I didn't go back to work. I went to Bellevue, and arrived a little
after 4:PM. Just a little early. So I stopped at Half Price Books,
and checked for anything on Farsi. Nothing. But I found a Berlitz
Turkish phrasebook, which could be fun, as I am working with some
Turks these days.

Still over an hour before 6:PM. I decide to do a drive-by, and find
her office. I drive. I find. Still over an hour until 6:PM. I drive
away, and approach from a different direction.

I find her office. Still over an hour until 6:PM. So I park, and
study Turkish. It is finally 5:50, I can wait no more. I call up to
her office. And get voice mail. Interesting. So I wait.

After about five minutes, a car pulls up behind me, and stops just
before it obstruct my car. And they wait. After ten seconds, I'm
starting to wonder what is up, and about that time, the car pulls in
next to me.

It is ****. I do not know if you recall her. Twenty-seven
years ago, she was about 5'4" and 110lbs soaking wet. She tells me
that held true, until about 9 years ago. She now clocks in at
slightly more. But back in the day, I was 175lbs, and now I'm closer
to 210lbs. A lot closer. Life happens.

But the eyes were the same.

We got out of our respective cars, both pretty much speechless.

We embrace. For a long time.

We pull away, and look to each others faces. **** had mentioned she
recently had an accident. At a 7-11 or similar, she stumbled over one
of those concrete car stoppers, and struck her face against the
concrete. Abrasions, contusions. I didn't really notice that.

The eyes were the same.

We go to eat at a little vegetarian Indian restaurant nearby. It
takes us over 30 minutes to quit talking, and open the menus. We
explain to the waiter that it has been 26 years since we saw each
other. He seems flattered we chose his restaurant. Good food, by the
way. Spicy and yummy.

From there, we went to see her office. Modest, as one might expect
from a beginning independent lawyer, especially one specializing in
immigration law. Most immigrants come with small purses.

It is getting quite late at this point. The reason she moved us to
Friday, was she could not get a sitter for her daughter on
Saturday. So I am thinking she needs to pick her up tonight. Not
wanting to cause problems, I excuse myself, and after a parting
embrace, head for home.

And can hardly concentrate as I drive home.

And call her back, when I get home.

And then she tells me, she had planned to pick up her daughter in the
morning...

So we talk for another few hours. It is 30 miles by road from my
place to hers. The phone is long distance. Fortunately, I have a good
cell plan, with long distance included. 5000 minutes/month. Going
fast.

Anyway, that was four months ago. We are still dating, sharing our
pasts, and exploring what the future may hold.

Later, I may share some of life's little ironies. (For example, at
the reunion, I was talking to her on the phone, when I mentioned
that Norman was walking by. She said to tell Norman, "Hello." So I
handed him the phone. When they were through greeting, Norman
returned the phone without so much as a raised eyebrow. Cool as a
cucumber, or limited powers of observation?)

We will keep you posted.

Cheers,
Mike


And as a closing comment for today's chapter, we will be wed this Friday. Ain't life strange?
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