He Talks Like a Persian Rug

 This book is perfect for an intergenerational book club.  It is written for middle school and up.  Khosrou is Daniel's real name but no one in America can pronounce it, so his mother renamed Khosrou, Daniel, after the kid in the Bible story, who was thrown in the lion's pit.  Daniel's mother is a Christian, which is very important to the story, although the story isn't religious.  It's pretty secular.  This is one of the reasons why I enjoyed the book, Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri. 

Although Daniel comes from Iran, the story starts in a middle school classroom in Oklahoma.  The students have a writing project and this book turns out to be the stories Daniel tells his classmates.  Think (Scheherazade's 1001 Nights)  

Daniel's parents were both doctors in Iran.  So the family was pretty well-off. Everything changed when Daniel's mother became Christian.  This was/is bad, in Iran.  She sacrificed her safe and respected career for Christianity.  She was going to be killed, so she ran.  She escaped, taking her two children with her.  No matter where she went, she still had the fatwa sentence of death above her.  That's why they chose to live in Oklahoma--no Muslims.  

Obviously, Daniel is Christian, otherwise, he would be blaming his mother for all the bad and sad things that had happened to them.  Instead, his mother is the hero.  She survives a fatwa, deprivation, humiliation, poverty, violence, and abuse.  She still carries her dignity as a child of God and clings to hope that heaven awaits her.  What a witness!

She lost her husband, too.  He didn't come with the family, in fact, he remarried.  Consequently, so did Daniel's mother.  This stepfather was abusive, but she does stand up to him, as do the children. 

I chose the title, "He Talks Like a Persian Rug," because Daniel often refers to the beautiful Persian rugs they left behind.  They were handmade, and when they were perfectly finished, one mistake would be made, because only God is perfect.  (See, Kafka.)  Daniel wove his story as a rug maker weaves a rug.  And what a beautiful story he wove.

The Argonauta book club meets this Thursday and I finished our book, early this morning.  Behold the Dreamers by Imbolo Mbue is about undocumented immigrants or dreamers. 

The story is about the Jonga family.  Jende lies to get in the country and has a lawyer who has concocted a story about Jende's life will be in danger if he returns home to Cameroon.  Jende works two years before having enough money to send for his wife, Neni, and their six-year-old son Liomi.  Neni gets a student visa and also works.

They do work hard and save even harder.  They are not lazy welfare recipients sponging of the system.  Things get better when Jende gets a job as a chauffeur for the Edwards.  Clark Edwards works for Lehman Brothers.  The Edwards family is quite a contrast to the Jongas.  Rich and the poor--the working poor.

But you know what happens to Lehman's.  The brokerage firm goes bankrupt and everyone's life changes. 

Jende loses his job.  Neni has a baby.  Cindy Clark takes to drugs. Vincent Edwards, the oldest son quits law school and goes off to find himself in India, thereby rejecting all that the Edwards have worked for.  It's incomprehensible to the Jongas.  What they dream of and work hard at getting, Vincent has thrown away. 

There are casualties--the children.  The Edwards' youngest son, Mighty witnesses this traumatic change in his family and is helpless to do anything about it.  Liomi's dream of becoming a successful American businessman is threatened.  But the baby, she is a bona fide American and entitled to all that label encompasses.

In the end, Jende can't take the stress of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) breathing down his back, besides the two dishwasher jobs, which are the only type of work he can get, are taking their toll on his health.  He decides to go back to Cameroon.  But Neni, you won't believe the struggle she gives.  First, she wants to divorce Jende for awhile and marry someone else to get that coveted green card, then divorce him to remarry Jende.  Worse, is her idea to give her son away to be adopted by friends, just so he will gain American status.  She really wracks her brain to come up with something, ANYTHING, to stay in America.  She loves New York and digs in her heels.

What to do?

Is that enough tension for you?  Read the novel.  It's a good view of today's immigrants and what they go through and feel.  But don't worry.  It really isn't all that bad.

Cardinal Schönborn warns of 'Islamic conquest' of Europe

Cardinal Schönborn warns of 'Islamic conquest' of Europe: Vienna, Austria, Sep 14, 2016 CNA/EWTN News.- Cardinal Christoph Schönborn has warned that Europe risks forfeiting its “Christian inheritance”.

You have to remember that Cardinal Schönborn isn't American and therefore isn't used to a country proud of its immigrant heritage.  In fact, it's proud of repelling the "foreigners."

God Bless America

Today is Memorial Day.  Daily Mass was so crowded that I wondered whether people thought Memorial Day was a Holy Day of Obligation.  Then I thought again.  What better way to honor our dead veterans and other loved ones, than by celebrating Mass?

Memorial Day is a time for people to remember and honor veterans.  Fr. Moy related a story about his friend, the military chaplain.  When his friend became too old to serve in the military, he would still remember all servicemen at his Masses.  He would remember them, individually.  What he did the was cut out the obituaries from the Armed Services newspapers.  Then he brought the newspaper cutouts to Mass.  He'd announce before Mass began that Mass was being said for .....  He'd read the name, rank, branch of service, where they came from, dates, and where they died.  He does this every day.

The recessional after the Mass was the organ playing God Bless America--just the organ music.

Guess what.

We people spontaneously broke out singing God Bless America.

I was very moved.  I had a flashback from my childhood.  As a petulant child trying to avoid going to bed, I would often beg for more stories, prayers, songs, etc., from my babysitter--my great aunt.  She was my grandmother's sister.  She never married, and more or less adopted us as her own children.  I loved her very much.  She never learned to speak much English, but she was a patriotic American.  She only knew one song in English--God Bless America.

Let me tell you.  No one sings God Bless America, as heartfelt as an immigrant American, with broken English.

I love you, Auntie.  Requiescat in pace et in amore.