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Los Angeles Times Valley Edition | Glendale News-Press | March 20
Giovanni, Arash, and the tunnel
BY PATRICK AZADIAN
Final of three parts
The ordeal is almost over. This is the last of three parts sparked by a quote by Malcolm X: "The only thing I like integrated is my coffee." I took the analogy further in describing my high school's racially divided social scene: "Milk producers, coffee growers, and sugar planters rarely came together to produce a smooth cappuccino." Readers have been inquiring about the true identity of these categories; my response has been consistent: "They are irrelevant." It is the late 1970's; I live in Sacramento, and being an Armenian is still mysterious.
Giovanni was one of my buddies on the soccer team. As far as I knew, he was the only Italian at our school. He was a product of a broken home and a jet-setter father. The most exciting things in his life were his athletic involvements and his sweet girlfriend, Karen. And she was the envy of everyone, including the football team's quarterback, Kenny. She was a victory for all of us on the unglamorous soccer team.
Karen had a sweet way of filling the family void in Giovanni's life. She was one of the rare sweethearts who actually made and delivered sandwiches for her boyfriend after each and every soccer match. My Italian mate was smitten.
Giovanni was popular among "sugar planters" and enjoyed all the benefits of having a solid peer group. One problem: Giovanni's friends did not approve of Karen. So one day, after a brutal two-hour soccer practice, Giovanni broke down in tears. His intensity suggested that his sobbing was not a product of his howling misses in front of the empty net during scrimmage; he had broken up with Karen. His official reason: "Hmmm. . . 'cause, I am stupid, man, just stupid."
Translation: "Sugar planters" did not approve of her.
My opinion: "Dumb move." Dumb got even dumber. Within a week Giovanni had a new girl from the more accepted scene, and within a month, she was pregnant. Beautiful -- an expectant father at the green age of 17. My Dodo bird curiosity immediately kicked in and I posed the obvious question to his friend, Joaquin: "I personally have not seen this contraption with my own eyes, but isn't there something called contraception in this country?" Dodo bird received his answer in the form of "Hush. . . that is against the teachings of the church."
The grand lesson is quite clear, but allow me to be redundant. Lesson No. 1: Peer pressure can lead to losing your hot girlfriend, especially if your homies are involuntarily single throughout high school. Lesson No. 2: If you are going to be selective in following the teachings of Christ, pick and choose wisely.
Arash was one of three Iranians at our school. Thanks to him and his monthly "Animal House" toga parties at his bachelor pad, I enjoyed a decent level of popularity. In spite of my superior looks, as well as my lack of a unibrow and a thick black mustache, our classmates could not tell us apart. They would often thank me for being invited to the toga bashes.
Arash's gatherings could not have come at a better time, considering we were privileged to have experienced all the ill effects of the Iranian hostage crisis. But, no one dared to openly get on our wrong side, as they feared being axed from the guest list. In exchange, we were denied entry to gatherings on a couple of occasions, but no worries, no resentments; we had a firm grip on our own social life.
In addition to being quite popular with the girls, Arash had a beautiful girlfriend named Kelly. I could safely say, Arash was one of the biggest party animals at our school, and enjoyed all the freedoms American society offered and tolerated. At the same time, he was also supportive of the Islamic revolution in Iran.
I posed a question to him once about this contradiction: "Would you like a brutal spanking from a bearded official every time you were out with Kelly?" His response: "That system is good for those people, I don't have to like it to support it." He went as far as inviting me to his pad to have his extremist roommate preach me the virtues of a fundamentalist revolution. From that day on, our friendship was on ice.
I am almost certain Arash eventually made a U-turn on his views. As most Iranian students of that era, his anti-Shah, pro-democracy tendencies were temporarily allied with pro-revolution sentiments. His preaching roommate was a different story, however. He went on to benefit from the American educational system, only to go back and help coin the term "Great Satan" for America.
Lesson No. 1: What's not good for you is probably not good for others either. Lesson No. 2: Hypocrisy runs rampant in the world. Lesson No. 3: Revolutions can mess up good friendships.
High school was my landing ground in America; sink or swim were my only choices. I left home at age 14, traveled above grey waters, trekked through a jet-engine-noise tunnel surrounded by dark clouds, and emerged in an entirely new universe. The tunnel was then sealed. Everything before the tunnel is surreal, but intact. Everything after the tunnel is real yet artificially detached from the past.
The bridge is still under construction.
Copyright 2004 Glendale News Press
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