About An Old Dear Friend
I received a very unexpected telephone call from a very dear friend from the distant past today. To say that I was very pleased would be an understatement. We don’t meet or keep in touch too often, yet when we do, I always felt as if a stormy day suddenly filled with sunshine. That’s how I felt this morning when she called.
We had met in the summer of 1964. Although it was not called ’the marriage tour, it was exactly what it was. My parents have three daughters, and I was the eldest. It was decided that Mama and I should take a trip, first to Israel, then to London, New York, and Montreal to find an eligible husband for me. It wasn’t as if I had not been to all these places before. I had. However, this time it wasn’t for pleasure.
In each city I was displayed. At times, I felt as if I was a prized commodity. The question was sometimes asked discreetly but most often crudely, rudely and brazenly. The question asked was how much money was I bringing into the marriage! That offended me a great deal. However, I was a young Middle Eastern lady and as such was unable to express my outrage. It was not acceptable!
Before asking for my hand in marriage one mother and her son truly offended me. They lived in Tehran and had plenty of money but no class whatsoever! Unfortunately, they thought their money would cover up their boorish manners and lack of breeding. I immediately refused to even consider marrying him. At that time, my parents were away. They had taken a long leisurely trip to India that spring. The mother approached my paternal uncle. He in turn consulted with my mother’s cousin and dearest friend. They both thought it was a fine idea. They drilled me on how to behave, how to dress, what to eat, what to drink. I was beginning to feel upset, but nevertheless I promised to do what they asked.
My family had chosen to meet them at a very elegant restaurant. The atmosphere was hushed and classy. To be quite honest, my curiosity was a bit piqued. I imagined a suave well-dressed gentleman with impeccable manners. Instead, in walked a battle-axed widow with grim features followed by her son. His clothes were rumpled, he hadn’t even bothered to shave and he wore an even grimmer look on his face than his mother. He squinted through thick glasses. Later, I compared him to a near-sighted owl. My heart fell. There was NO WAY I was going to go out with, never mind even consider marrying that man! We sat down and made polite small talk. We ordered. I did not order a shrimp cocktail, nor did I order wine. I did not do anything that would offend anyone’s sensitivities. When the food arrived we started eating. He proffered some of his salad. I politely declined. With anger in his voice he raised the salad and slammed it in front of me. “I told you to eat!” he said.
I visibly winced! At that moment it was definite in my mind, Mama and I would go on the marriage tour. There was no way I was going to marry that boor. When my parents returned, my uncle and my mother’s cousin told them of the proposal. Papa asked for details. When he heard who it was, he commented, “That woman has no shame! How many times must I say no to her?” You cannot imagine the relief I felt at that moment!
And so, it was that I first met my dear friend. Our families were very close in Baghdad. My parents and I immigrated to Tehran when I was an infant in the 1940s. Two of my paternal uncles, immigrated to the United States just as WWII started. They fought in the war. Soon another uncle and his family also immigrated to New York. Because of the unrest in Iraq, my paternal aunt and her family, my grandmother and my great-grandmother went to New York as well.
When my mother and I came to New York in 1964, it was the first time I met my dear friend. To me, she was and will always be a brave heroine. At that time, she was perhaps either eighteen or nineteen. Her parents were separated. Because of that unfortunate circumstance, she had become the parent to her younger sister and brother. While I did not know where her parents were, I knew where they were not! They were not taking care of their children! My dear friend was taking care of her siblings while she went to school. She handled all their needs admirably and with grace, carrying the responsibility thrust upon her at a young age. I always admired you, my dear sweet friend, and always will. You are the heroine that tales are created from.