16,919... that is how many days have passed since November 4, 1979. The day Iranian students stormed the American embassy in Tehran and the world shifted. I was in eighth grade when this happened.
History books remember the hostage crisis. News anchors counted the 444 days. Politicians used leverage to get the hostages released.
I remember Omar.
My dad worked with a mechanical engineer from Iran in the 1970’s named Omar. My dad always said he was probably the finest engineer he ever met. Omar was Persian, proud of his heritage, and a strong Catholic. He came to our house often for dinner. He laughed easily and told stories with my Oldman. He loved his country, both the one he was born in and the one he chose.
Then November of 1979 arrived.
Overnight, Omar wasn’t the best engineer in the room anymore, he was Iranian. The revolution that toppled the Shah didn’t just change Tehran. It changed the temperature around every Iranian in America. Suspicion replaced respect and distance replaced fellowship.
Omar’s comfort level evaporated as the 1980’s began. His career stalled and his marriage collapsed. The weight of being a Christian from Iran in that moment pressed down hard. He tried to outrun it the wrong way and eventually lost his battle with alcohol.
My Oldman never turned his back on Omar. Omar was his friend who came to our home and broke bread. Omar was a colleague that made my Oldman stronger at his job.
When Omar died, hardly anyone from the railroad industry showed up at the wake. My dad was heartbroken and furious. Furious that a man who gave so much of himself could be reduced to a headline and easily forgotten.
The regime born 16,919 days ago may still stand as the politics grind on. What remains for me is the stardust and the memory of a gifted engineer who sat at our table.
I will remember the lesson in loyalty of my father, and the reminder that geopolitics always lands on the wrong shoulders.
Regimes rise and fall. Headlines will always flare and fade, but the measure of a man is who will stand together when the room gets quiet.
If the world shifts again this weekend, may it do more than redraw alliances. May it restore the dignity of men like Omar. Men who were better than the moment that swallowed them.
…And may we never confuse a flag with a soul.
The lyric I used today is from a song that I associate with Omar. Omar told me the song was composed by a Hoosier, Hoagy Carmichael. Omar and my Oldman also shared a passion for jazz and old standards.
When I’m done chalking here, I will add Iran’s future to my prayers.
March has arrived with historic events and the promise of change. The sun will smile over Tehran and gusto and astonishment will become a reality.
