about ipanemic.com

I was born the summer of 1969 in Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, into a family with two sisters, a working dad, and a loving mother. My family lived in Ras Tanura at the time. I remember none of that.

I remember Abqaiq. I remember Little League. I remember Dhahran. I remember Udaliyah. I remember Ras Tanura in the later years, on dates, on the beach, on the streets, in the fellowship hall, kissing, yearning.

I remember shamals. I remember prayer call. I remember the streets, the vendors, the faces, the third world, the persian rugs, the 22k gold, the bus rides, the cassettes, the brat of aramco, the adults of aramco, the rich, the uber-rich, the poor, the uber-poor, the beauty, the sadness, the love. I remember the friendships. I remember gathering with friends, maybe seeing them in airports in Europe, but always at the pool, the snackbar, the commissary, the hills, the rec center, Khobar, Medina, the middle of the desert hundreds of kilometers from civilization. I remember the Rub Al Kali. I remember flying. I remember my first kiss (Jenny), my first crush (Salam), my first (and only) witness of a death.

I remember vacations in the southeastern states of the US to visit an extended family I did not know, and would not know. I remember in later years avoiding the funeral of my father's sister out of guilt. I remember christmases in small wood-panelled homes, shaded by giant oaks, in the middle of nowhere. I remember the desert yard of my grandmother's poverty-level shanty, playing in it. I remember her dying. I remember that my cousin, the minister, is in Rio De Janiero. I remember there's a matter unresolved from twenty years ago, a discussion of God and the old testament.

I remember spending my sophomore year of high school living with my grandmother in that small town. I remember the cheaper drugs, the mullets, the smell of the filth. I remember getting thrown out of cars, nearly destroying my family home, and loathing my world. I remember people liked me.

I remember the years in Stony Brook on Long Island, the Christian boarding school, the early fall mornings before the school year would start and our varsity soccer team would be running drills. I remember being offsides with a teammate and the ref not seeing us. I remember my dad visiting. I remember chapel. I remember choir, and the memory of all that would entail. I remember playing piano in the auditorium, performing on campus a la Thomas Dolby/Howard Jones style. I remember long walks along wooded paths. I remember the town by the water, the boats all docked, the Three Rivers Inn. Or maybe it was called something else. Maybe I'm thinking of Wellesley. I remember the bike rides. I remember falling in love with an indian girl we'll call "Ro". I remember Lonny. I remember Jack. I remember the Roberts, the bmws, the $400,000 question, the days and nights spent in the infirmary. I remember going crazy.

I remember drugs in Amsterdam, paddle-boats on Lake Zurich, sidewalks in London. I remember snow. I remember Julie Andrews. I remember street-side puppet shows. I remember falling in love again with a Palestinian women. And later with another friend. I remember sitting on our dock. I remember sitting in my room. I remember sitting in the room of a few local girls in Stony Brook. I remember a jealous day student.

I remember college. I remember acid. I remember coke. I remember most everything. I remember my friends, I remember the first friend telling me that they had fallen in love with me and our friendship ending because I wasn't gay. I remember "I'm sticking with you, because I'm made out of glue." I remember so much of everyone and everything.

I remember running away to California with a girl. I remember marrying her a month later in Vegas in a "false alarm shotgun wedding." I remember moving around, raising a family, getting divorced, and fighting for custody. I remember getting custody. I remember death threats from strangers and sleeping in different hotels each night. I remember Boston, Chicago, DC, Charleston, and everything in between.

I remember my boys. But I don't remember them. I live them. They are the reason I am alive today. They are my best friends. They are my boys.

And now... now I remember more.

(For information on ipanemia, I refer you to this handy little wiki)