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letter to ari Hello Ari, You didn't expect to hear from me, did you? Certainly not after such a long, long time. It's been, what, over thirty years? Over thirty years since we left that grass court, me for the high desert... You back to Teheran. This isn't the first time I've thought of you, of course. I worried about you during the 1979 revolution. Were you involved? Did you survive? Did your education in the United States hurt your chances, or help them? I admit, every news photo I saw of those days, I was checking faces for yours. What became of you? Were you able to stay in research? Even today, when I hear of some cancer victim going in for radiation or chemo treatments, I think of all of you. You and your associates, the other players on our pick-up volleyball "court" next to the Rad Bio building. Those of you who pioneered many of the chemical, radiation and thermal treatments that now save so many lives. Cultured the petri dish lines of cancerous cells, and then spent hours and sleepless hours testing new treatments to kill the cancerous cells you had nurtured so carefully. The volleyball games that would suddenly have to be cut short, because it was time to pull out the latest trial, and test the results. So. Troubles have returned to your city, your country. Your home. Are you still there? I like to guess I know what your stand is, but I realize I'm just projecting my feelings. I really have no idea what yours are. We never discussed politics. Or religion. No, it was just cell culturing agents, radiation doses, bumps, sets and spikes. With all the news footage, I caught myself again looking at the faces of the young men in the streets, when it suddenly hit me... They cannot be you. We're thirty years older now. You might be one of the elder men I see standing on the sidewalks, or atop a car to get a better view. But I could never recognize you now. The young people standing up for their vote, marching and chanting for their country? May well include your children. It chills my heart. As I suspect it may yours. And, as in 1979, I can do nothing. Both sides of the court are full, and I can only watch. If I could, I would give you the perfect set... |
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