THE LAST WORD
Moossavi, Homayoon
THE LAST WORD Homayoon Moossavi Teheran Calling Ileaped out of bed, not giving the phone a second chance to ring. It must have been four in the morning. From the beeps and echo I could tell that...
...This madness might not manifest itself in big ways...
...I have wanted to take a break from being who I am, to cut all ties that bind me but do not connect me with my past, my family, my home...
...Go birdwatching...
...more often than not it is dismissed as an idiosyncrasy...
...In a Farsi-language paper, I read the note that he had left behind...
...I was not shocked by what he had done, just saddened...
...And yet every time the phone rings late at night, every time I open my mailbox and find a blue airmail envelope, I get this knot in my stomach...
...What about my grandparents...
...THE LAST WORD Homayoon Moossavi Teheran Calling Ileaped out of bed, not giving the phone a second chance to ring...
...I felt guilty because this moment of my life was so far removed from the way my family lives, from what my compatriots have to put up with every day...
...We are treated as a faceless mob...
...I close my eyes and press my eyelids together, trying to block out everything, wondering whether the phone will ring...
...It was filled with confusion and pain, reflecting the deep sense of helplessness and alienation we all feel...
...Now he is married and spends his Homayoon Moossavi is the membership coordinator of The Progressive...
...The moon looks too bright and I can hear the smallest noise on the street...
...I know a young Iranian who, on the eve of the Iranian revolution, was among those who battled government troops and took over the television station...
...Afriend of mine believes that most Iranian exiles are going mad...
...Sometimes I think he is right...
...Damn it, Homayoon," I scold myself...
...Government...
...Night falls and I try to sleep but can't...
...Those who befriend us, who are our life companions, find the experience of being with us heavy...
...From the beeps and echo I could tell that it was an overseas call...
...This brief conversation provided no relief...
...Or the next day...
...Are they all right...
...In the morning I awoke to the news of more missile attacks on Teheran blasting from the clock radio...
...A saxophone player was playing "Someone To Watch Over Me...
...We are, for the most part, only the subject of ridicule by political cartoonists and second-rate comics...
...We could talk of nothing but the war—who sells it, who benefits from it, and who is killed by it...
...My father's voice was anxious...
...I wanted to close my eyes and start over again, but this time with no news of "renewed hostilities," no more thirty-second bulletins of escalations of the Gulf war, no more "measured responses" by the U.S...
...I spoke a few words with my mother and then the Iranian operator came on the line and said our time was up...
...She is fine too...
...So tonight they are okay, but what about tomorrow...
...weekends going to garage sales and feeding ducks in a suburb of Chicago...
...No more calls, no more mail, no more news...
...There have been more occasions than I care to admit when I have wished for it to stop...
...This drives us mad, makes us angry and bitter...
...Don't be so brooding...
...We said goodbye, and I walked back to the bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling...
...Suddenly, without warning, tears were flowing down my face...
...We are fine, at least for now...
...I wanted to stay in bed...
...I stopped and leaned on a tree to listen...
...Smell the roses...
...The media paid little attention to this event...
...And my sister...
...After coffee, I walked down the street soaking up the late afternoon sun of a pleasant Midwestern spring...
...There is the familiar sensation of something missing, something ruptured in my head...
...Later in the day, my Iranian friends and I gathered in a coffee house...
...An Iranian dead or alive is of little interest to the mind-managers of this country...
...I felt guilty for being here, for having the chance to hear music on the street, for being safe, for not having to stand in long ration lines...
...Not too long ago, a young Iranian man set himself on fire in Los Angeles...
...It is spring...
...We shared the news of our parents' phone calls, hoping that somehow this would reassure us that everything would be all right...
Vol. 52 • August 1988 • No. 8
