کازرون

شما شاید کازرون رو فقط از روی جنگش با ممسنی از طریق کتاب دایی جان ناپلئون بشناسین، اما من واقعا در زمان جنگ، در زمان موشک باران ها، ۳-۴ ماهی‌ اونجا زندگی‌ کردم و مدرسه رفتم. الان که فکرش رو می‌کنم، ۳-۴ ماه چیزی نیست، اما در دوران بچگی‌ به اندازهٔ سه سال الان شاید طولانی بود. یادم هست که من که از تهران آمده بودم برای اون‌ها همون قدر متفاوت بودم که وقتی‌ من در تهران یک خارجی‌ میدیدم. هفتهٔ اول، هر روز که زنگ خونه خورده میشد، من با دختر خاله‌ام به سمت خونه راه میفتادیم، و پشت سرمون اول ۲-۳ نفر، بعد ۱۰-۲۰ نفر، و بعد انگار همهٔ کلاس یا مدرسه راه میومدن تا ما به خونه برسیم. بالاخره باید میفهمیدند این غریبه کیست، خونش کجاست، با کی‌ میره، با کی‌ میاد. تازه ما از قصد میگفتیم با ماشین دنبالمون نیان که دیگه بیشتر از اینی که بود تابلو نشیم. اوائل هر وقت معلّم حاضر غائب میکرد، یا از روی دفتر برای درس پرسیدن اسم "مسافر" رو صدا میکرد، فکر می‌کردم منظورش منم و هنوز اسم من رو یاد نگرفته. طول کشید تا فهمیدم "مسافر" فامیلی یکی‌ از بچه‌ها بود. درس خوندن این بچه کازرونی‌ها خیلی‌ روی اعصاب بود. سه چهار نفری کنار هم توی حیاط میستادند و از روی یک متن بلند بلند با هم و با یک لحن و آوازی که انگار دارند آهنگ یا قرآن میخونند، فارسی، علوم، جغرافی، و غیره رو هم میخوندند. امتحان دادن این بچه‌ها خیلی‌ دردناک بود. در هوای خیلی‌ گرم، توی حیاط، پلاستیک یا روزنامه پهن میکردند، و روی آسفالت داغی که بعضی‌ وقتها ذوب هم داشت میشد، مینشستند و زیر آفتابی که به کلشون میخورد امتحان میدادند، چون نمی‌شد روی نیمکتهایی که سر کلاس ۳-۴ نفر روش مینشستند امتحان داد. بالاخره سال تحصیلی‌ تمام شد و من هم انگار بدون اینکه متوجه شده باشم یک پا کازرونی شده بودم و لهجه کازرونی گرفته بودم. سال بعد که به مدرسه خودم برگشتم و در کلاس‌های بزرگ و مرتب نشستم، انگار دوباره یک مدرسه جدید رفته بودم.

When March is scarcely here...

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That science cannot overtake,
But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,
Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,
It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament.

Emily Dickinson

An Optimist's Story

He is tall, black, and young, with an innocent face and big nice eyes. He is very skinny. So much that whenever he runs after the carts to collect them and take them back to the store, I wonder if he has the energy to do so during cold winter or hot summer days. His body does not seem balanced. It is as if he has to drag one side of his body with the command of the other side. He seems to manage well though. Although I always return my cart from the parking lot to the entrance of the store, he often times comes to my car, and patiently waits for me to unload my groceries before taking away my cart.

Initially it made me a little uncomfortable. Should I tip him? If so, how much? But I come here at least once a week. Can I keep up with tipping him every time? Then, he may get sad if one time I do not tip him. Does he get paid hourly, or is his income based on tips like waiters and waitresses? I have to find out .... The reality was something else. He had a sense of pride in doing his job. What if he gets offended when I tip him?

Our greetings usually was in the order of "hello", "how are you", "nice weather", and "have a good day". Until one day as I was unloading my groceries, he started telling me his story. He told me how he used to be in college. He was an athlete and on some sport team. He had scholarships. "I even had a nice car", he continued. "I had a bad car accident, a very bad one. I had brain injury. Half of my body was paralyzed first, now it is better. I could not finish my degree." He kept talking as I relived my past two total loss car accidents. I thanked God I was lucky enough to not cause such harm to others. I was lucky my life did not change in a second, not once but twice. Oh, I was too damn lucky. I was having all these thoughts while looking at his eyes horrifically. "Well, it is good that ...", and I was searching for words. What is good? That he could no longer get his college degree and sports scholarships? That his life changed so drastically? "That nothing worse happened", he completed my sentence. "Yes", I nodded. I admired him for appreciating life so much instead of having a victim mentality.

He came to my car again today. "Thank you", I said as I put my last bag in the trunk. He nodded, and did not move much. "How are you?", I asked. His eyes glittered with happiness for given the opportunity to talk. "Survived the snow storm?", I continued. "Yes, it is hard in cold weather. It is better to work inside", he explained. "Yes", I agreed. "I have to improve my skills for that. I am going to go to Montgomery college. I qualified for their program", he announced. "That is great! You should do that", I said happily. "Montgomery college is a good college", I continued. "Montgomery college in Rockville", he said. "It is a good college. I went there", I smiled. "Good luck!", I said before heading to my car. "Thanks", he said as he was leaving happily.


"You do not tip your friends", I told myself.

I wonder

I have been trying to write something worthy of thee
For nothing is more joyous than your glee

I have been thinking harder and harder
Nothing is making this task any lighter

So, I surrender and wonder
What is it you wish I ponder?