KARAMANIA

Happy Birthday Ebi

I believe Mazloom will be celebrating his birthday today (August 05)

You are in good company

:o)  

solh va doosti/paz a vosotros/paix et amitié

ناتاليا

Robin jaan

Thanks for sharing your memory with me,enjoyed reading it.

Sure,if I were you,I would definitely go back to Rego park.You can't imagine how wonderful it would be,try it & let me know how it was!?

best wishes

CheraaghAli.....

Lovely,Thanks for sharing.

Sure I remember both Doctor Ernest & Mohaajeraan(how about : Dr Delittle,Tom & Jerry,Safarhaaye Jimmy Mcpeters[young Kurt Russell!?).I remmeber playing "Shoot ye Zarb" in our small alley,hitting the " Kaanaale Cooler" hamssayehaa.Years later,when I visited my childhood neigborhood,I was shocked to find out that alley so small & wondering how big it looked to us when we were kids!.Good old days!.

Best wishes

My hometown

My hometown was Rego Park, a neighborhood in the semi-suburban borough of Qeens, New York City, on western Long Island.  I grew up in a large middle-income housing project.ccalled Park City next to the Long Island Expressway. Re-go Park has the rare distinction of being named after the Real Goodl Construction Company, which in the 1950's, had filled and paved over semi-marshland. I can remember occassionally seeing a seashell in the concrete sidewalks.

We lived about a mile's distance ieach way in-between the old tennis courts of the US Open in the swanky private community of Old Forest Hills, and Flushing Meadows Park where the new tennis courts were eventually built and where Shea Stadium was and is located. My father took me to a few baseball games but Inever once saw a tennis game.

Flushing Meadows Park was the site of the 1964 World's Fair.  II was five years old.  I can remember the crowds. I can remember going there with my mother and her friend, a woman coincidentally named Sandy Kolfax (like the great baseall player.  I can rememas my mother holding my hand as we navigated through the swarming thick crowd of giants, and my losing contact with my mother's hand and acciientally grabbing onto Sandy's hand instead, because they were both about the same size and coloring and even had similar haircuts.  And I can remember feeling shocked aand paralyzed at suddenly realizing that I could mistake someone else for my mother..

I can remember many many things. 

My famioy and I moved to Murray Hill, a then middle-class neighborho9od in Manhattan near the United Nations, in 1976, when parts of Manhattan were still affordable and I was in my first year at college, Columbia Universtiy in uptown Manhattan, when the Ivy League was also still somewhat affordable. Columbia transformed me in wondrous yet also very painful ways causing a complete break with my high school friends with whom I simply no longer had anything in common. Or so I felt at the time.

And so I only visited Rego Park on major holidays, especially Thanksgiving, after my  second year in college, until my aunt, who still lived there died in 1995.

And I have never been back to Rego Park since, although it is only about an hour's subway ride from where I now live in downtown Manhattan . But I've been driven by on the Long Island Expresway from time to time in cabs on the way or JFK Airport and have seen Park City and my old elementary school very close up in passing 

Maybe I should go there this summer. I don't know.

What do you think, Ebi?

Robin

Ok you want a memory or home

Ok you want a memory or home town story.
We had a man who used to clean the streets in our neighborhood. He was older. I remember his face and he always wore the same clothes with a Kolah Namadi (I think that's what they call it).
We used to call him something like CheraaghAli or Cheraaghi or something along those lines.
He would start cleaning right before lunch time. And do another shift in the afternoon.
Durin summer, we would be off from school and play outside after breakfast until lunch. And again in the afternoon after "barnaameh koodakaan" (remember khaanevaadeyeh doctor ernest? or mohaajeraan?).
Anyway, every freaking day, right before lunch, he would try to get rid of us so he could start cleaning. After a few polite warnings to go home so he could start work, he would lose it. We would be too busy playing and didn't want to go home. He would start yellin "tokhmeh sagaa berin ghormeh sabzitoono bokhorin man kaar daram..." Or a variation of that. Some times, the boys would tease him and he would try to run after them with a broom.
Of course, he did all of this on purpose to make us laugh because he was so sweet and we all loved him. During Norooz, or when he had a family problem or something, he would recieve so much support from all the families...we really loved him. I'm sure he's dead.

Dear Knights !!

Thank you all for your well wishes,feel much better !.

Dear Mr kadivar & Samsam, tnx for the links.

Dear Azarin , tnx for sharing the memory page. Life is a continuing struggle!.

This is for all my dear knights/friends :

My hometown Tehran

//uk.youtube.com/watch?v=FlNipGD1ylk

//uk.youtube.com/watch?v=QoKpLm8edq8&feature=related

P.S.

Still waiting for a memory or hometown story!!.

best wishes

Happy Birthday Ebi!

The timing of your blog is perfect. I have been struggling with this page from one's childhood memories:

******

The shores at the women section of the beach in Astara was covered with burning sand and sharp pebbles.

The plump women with white soft flesh wore homemade swimming suits they had sewn out of an old chador and handcrafted with care on cold winter days. They screamed and ran after their countless kids or laid down on the sand and laughed with other women eating sun flower seeds and murmuring rumors.

I was six and Danny, my cousin, was still young enough to pass unnoticed into this forbidden place.

We built holes in sand and a castle full of labyrinths and tall towers, all made of delicate bricks which looked like my mother’s lost cookie jar.

As the sea waved gently into our fairy world, a woman grabbed my shoulder. It was Fatima, Aunt Golnar’s neighbor. The year before she had lost her son to the sea.

“Be careful,” she said. “Don’t go into the water anymore. The birds are gone.” 

We looked at the horizon. The sea was calm but the sky was empty.

 “It’s a sign,” she said with frightened eyes.

My mother approached us and pushed both of us away from her.

I resisted. “My castle,” I shouted.

The women, sitting close by, stopped chewing on their lunch and stared at us.

Danny pushed Mother’s belly and ran toward the sea. I followed him. We jumped in the waves and the waves brought us back at the doors of our fairy fortress. Our sandy bodies tangled together and Danny’s leg trampled the castle.

A seabird flew above our head and squeaked before diving into the sea to catch a fish. Mother smiled. The women smiled and Fatima sighed with relief and caressed Danny’s hair.

The sun shone again.

We laughed hard, knowing we could build another hole and another palace and still another and another encore, before the dusk and darkness hides the sea and before the powerful spotlights of the Soviets at the other side of the border -- along with thousands flawless stars of an unpolluted childhood - brighten up the gloomy curve of a moonless night.

Azarin

O Captain my captain! Happy

O Captain my captain!
Happy Birthday.

Tart?

Who are you calling TART?  I shall indeed go to Q's blog and continue this conversation.

(please God.. please... make sure my umbrage is taken humorously)

Dear Wife, I'ms tarting to love you in the way that only nemeses

can love.  Would you do me a smalll favor and put iin a good but HONEST word for me on Q's bl;og addressed To Rosie? I can't paste the link and it's a bit buried but it's there.   Thanks so much. You've been a sweetheart. Rosie/Robin  :o)

This could be the best

This could be the best article going right now!  I can't wait to read the hometown descriptions and memories.  Hopefully everyone will keep on-task and non-political...lol. 

Rosie... other than my husband, I can't imagine wanting to go to Iran with anyone but you.  I might get arrested but it would be a BLAST!  Watch out mullahs... Rosie Whirlpool is here to kick your ass!

Glad to see you still around.  Your fever must have broke cause you sound much more at peace.  Congratulations on weathering the storm.

Happy birthday Mr knight of the round tits on Table

my best & warmest wishes for a good man! hiphip hooray..happy birthday young man!

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QloSPyj_JU&feature=related

Happy Birthday

From Sir Lancelot:

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCUY2OLZTz8

That counts me out Ebi. I have never been to Iran.

But I have written a new blog in response to Qumars.  If you read it earlier it has been edited and it flows better.  I think it's one of the best pieces of writing I've ever done.  That is my gift to you. And toeveryone.  For the day. 

Happy birthday.

ebi jan

I am not sure if I can recall one single memory of my childhood which doesn't make me sad. Not because my childhood was sad, but because I'm so homesick, I don't want to recall anything which make me more sad !

I liked your response to this Fish friend. He came to my blog as "Signed out Man" too. I replied him as he seem a nice guy, but in general, I rarely respond to the unregistered. Just as a base.

Happy early BD :D

My Signed out Knight!!

1- Not later than end of third week of July.

2- A knight who can write at least a paragraph.

3-When you're not registered,how can I know wether you're one of my beloved knights or not!.

You're excused for now.

Excuse me your majesty,

1- When is your birthday (to know how much time we have)?
2- Who are your knights (to know who is in this knight race)?

Your beloved Knight (I think),

Bajenaghe AZIZ.... !!!

ASAP !!.

tnx

ebi jan

i will write about my (XXX) nights. :-)