Two Brothers, One Journey
My father and Uncle Eddie never missed an opportunity to have heated conversations. It did not matter what the subject was, they just liked to argue. The subject could be politics, literature, classical music, anything and everything. Though they were brothers, they differed in appearance. Papa was somewhat short and trim. Uncle Eddie was tall and lanky. They were both handsome and quite charming. Ever since they were young lads, they had an amiable competition going on between them. Both of them very well read and both of them passionately loved classical music and opera. Both of them were witty with a deep sense of humour, although I think my father’s wit was keener.
Uncle Eddie left Baghdad just before WWII. He sailed off to the United States and landed in New York just in time to be recruited into the US Army to fight in the war. He fought valiantly and earned quite a few impressive medals. He fought in the South Pacific. He was fearless. Peter used to question him for hours on end about his experiences then. He was dazzled by his tales. As I said, he was good looking and charming. Add to that a French accent, since that whole generation went to Lycée Alliance Française in Baghdad. Most people liked him. He never lacked having a pretty lady on his arm. I suspect there were many young ladies vying for the attention of the tall charming young man in uniform. Perhaps that is why he never got married, too many choices.
Papa, on the other hand, was married. Soon he and Mama had me. He and my Uncle Selim had a successful business in Baghdad. Because of the war, a wave of anti-Semitism arose. Papa was accused of being a communist. He was about to be arrested, if a Moslem friend of his had not warned him. The friend also arranged for seats on a British army for him and his little family. Because of this kind man, Papa, Mama and I managed to escape to Tehran with one little suitcase. We lived in Tehran until December 1978 when we once more fled because of the Iranian Revolution and settled in the United States. As an aside, my father’s Iraqi Moslem friend and his family were obliged to escape from Bagdad in the 1960’s. They stopped in Tehran where my parents very warmly welcomed them to theirs home.
Because of all the turmoil in Iraq, there was a massive exodus of Jews fleeing from Iraq in the 1960’s and 70s. Most of them settled in England, the United States and Canada. From our family, Uncle Selim first moved to London then on to…
In 1963, my grandmother, my great grandmother, my Aunt Flora and her family left Baghdad. Aunty Flora, two of her daughters and my grandmother visited us in Tehran before coming to New York. My great grandmother flew directly to New York. She was a frail little lady in her nineties then. She spoke no English and refused to eat anything on the flight for fear it was not kosher, although they assured her that all the food would be kosher; but she did not recognize the food as anything she had ever eaten. She just ate pieces apples and milk until she arrived here. How brave she was to travel all alone. She had never been on a plane; she had never left Baghdad, yet here she was all by herself, with no familiar faces around her, trundling through the skies to a land that was alien to her.
Uncle Eddie took it upon himself to care for them all. When Aunt Flora and her family found an apartment near Uncle Eddie, he took his mother and grandmother to live with him. If he had ever contemplated starting a family of his own, it was now too late. He was responsible for them until they passed away.
The Iranian Revolution began in 1978. Our world turned upside down. The wanton destruction and burning of property, the hanging of innocent people, the ousting of the Shah and the nightmarish takeover of the Mullahs, the Moslem clerics, had everyone who was able to, flee the country. That is how we ended up here. We thought our visit here would be temporary. Forty years later, almost to the day, we are still here.
Over here, Papa, Uncle Eddie and Uncle Albert met on a regular basis. Papa and Uncle Eddie resumed their verbal battle which had broken off so many years ago. Uncle Eddie would say, as was his habit, ‘’There has never been any writer as great as Voltaire nor a composer as great as Beethoven!’’ Papa would raise himself to his full height. With a twinkle in his eye and a little smile curling at his lips, would reply, ‘’And you known that how? On what grounds do you make this statement?’’ And so the battle would begin. We would groan inwardly and slink away. This heated discussion would go on and on and on, for they delighted in it!
Uncle Eddie was passionate about Beethoven. One day he said, with tears in his eyes, ‘’Last night was Beethoven’s birthday. I did not sleep a wink all night long. I celebrated by playing his music until dawn.’’ Papa would reply dryly, ‘’Humph! You had nothing better to do? What a way to spend the night!’’ Again everyone would scurry away!
Mama and Papa moved to Los Angeles to be near my sister Gilda and my brother Jacky. They would come back to New York for an occasional visit. One day, when they came, my cousin Edmond invited the three uncles over to his home. They sat around cracking jokes and telling old stories. They all loved it! Earlier I had dropped off Uncle Eddie and Papa at his house. I had errands to run and had to feed the children after school. Afterwards the kids and I went to pick them up from Edmond’s. As they got into the car, Uncle Eddie asked Jessica, ‘’What interesting did you do today?’’
Innocently, Jessica replied, ‘’We had debate today.’’
‘’You do not have to take debate. You are argumentative enough as it is,’’ he declared.
The hair on the back of my father’s head stood on end. His face flushed. He bit the tip of his tongue, a habit he had when he needed to control his wrath. ‘’You do not speak to my granddaughter in this manner,’’ he said in an evenly modulated voice.
Uncle Eddie replied, ‘’She may be your granddaughter, but she is my great niece!’’
‘’MY GRANDDAUGHTER!’’
‘’My great niece!’’ And on and on they continued.
Heaven help us! We were trapped in the car for the next half hour or so with the two of them staking their claims.
The children crowded together in the corner of the back seat, as far away from
Uncle Eddie as they possibly could, trying not to instigate any further arguments between their grandfather and great uncle.
That was so many years ago. I smile as I remember. They are gone now. l imagine them all together in heaven, in a house similar to the big house in Baghdad. Papa and Uncle Eddie are still going at it. My mild mannered Uncle Selim is doing the New York Times crossword puzzles and totally ignoring them. His wife, Aunty Victoria and Mama are off somewhere playing bridge or socializing. Uncle Albert is watching a tennis match and Edmond is cracking his jokes and gleefully chuckling away…