Bittersweet Symphony
2004-04-03 at 7:15 p.m.
Nostalgic
I was watching the local news the other night (I don't know... it must have been an accident. Ok, so, really, they were doing a story about the OC filming in Las Vegas, and I have a crush on the dark-haired one). Anyway, at the beginning of the newscast (I use the term lightly), they said there had been a shooting in North Las Vegas and they showed a live shot of the scene and with some police cars and tape and such. So then, like halfway through the broadcast, they did the weather. First they showed a shot of the strip and said the weather or whatever and then! they showed the shooting scene and said, "It's 74 degrees right now out in North Las Vegas." ! Yeah, nice weather. Unless you're getting MURDERED. (Actually, last I heard, the victim was recovering, I just added that for dramatic effect.) I swear to God. It was one of those moments when you're like, "Is anyone else seeing this?"My husband and I are doing better. I was mad for a day or two and he was mad for a day or two longer. But we've gained perspective. I told my husband "Your mom and dad went through much worse. They had to live through the war and they had no hope. And they made it through. And we have hope, so we'll make it too." He was really starting to be depressed and like, "this is hopeless," so, you know.
My husband has seen a lot of bad things. So much so, that he doesn't think it's weird that he has. I remember I was sitting with him and one of his Lebanese friends, and I told them how I had seen someone get shot before. And they, like, starting laughing at me. That's when you know someone is jaded.
I forgot to put one of the most offensive things the agents of the government ("we're here to help") said to me while they were "just looking out for [me]." I told them how my husband isn't a strict Muslim, like, he drinks and doesn't pray or read the Koran, and they were like, I swear to God, "A lot of these Muslims, when they come to Las Vegas, they forget their religions and live like Americans." I was like, OK, Hi, Ignorant, can I call you by your first name? My husband wasn't strict way back when, when he was in that scary country of Lebanon that they probably know nothing about. They probably think the woman wear birqas. I sort of did too, once. Or, I don't know what I thought exactly.
When I was in the Army learning Arabic, I had this crazy, hilariously mean Palestinian woman as one of my teachers, and, like, sometime shortly after I met her, I asked her what she wore, you know, "where [she was] from," and she looked at me like I was crazy and she was like, "What you wear." She was so funny. When the computer didn't work she would hit it and say, "Hello Computer!" And one day I changed my hair or something, and she walked into our classroom and pointed at me and said, "Your hair looks different." And I said, "Do you like it?" and she said, "No." Oh, we loved her. I found a tape today from my Arabic class. One of my teachers had made it for us during class, just reading sentences and translating them and stuff. He's Egyptian, and he was so funny (on purpose). He used to call us "bad boys and girls." I miss them all. I wish I could go back and let them meet my husband, especially the Lebanese teacher who told me I should marry a Lebanese man. (he was actually sort of coming onto me, I think, but, he wasn't THAT sleezy. He had redeeming qualities) There was this one guy from Morocco that everyone had a crush on. He was the youngest of our teachers and he was their boss. He was so intelligent. Not really attractive, but oh so sexy for some reason. He had married one of his former students! That could have been one of us! He told me that when he was in Morocco, he knew nothing whatsoever about the outside world. He used to record things about Arabs that were on TV and showed them to me because he knew I liked politics. I left Monterey in August of 2001. I was really worried about them after 9/11. I know some of my husband's friends got death threats. They were like my grandparents. The Lebanese one told me once that this convenience store clerk was really rude to him and talked to him like he didn't speak English. He was like, "I have a Ph D and this guy working at 7-11 is treating me like I'm not as smart as him!"
Ah, nostalgia. I often wonder how I will feel about this time in my life later and what I will think about it when I remember it. Probably how much we struggled, and how adorable my son was. Anyway, I hope the struggling will be a thing of the past someday.
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