The Iranian: Sons Reveal What Mothers Conceal.

[James Brody]

Tall, glossy hair, pulled back pony tail, large eyes, light tan, and a light mustache above wide shoulders, flat stomach, nice hips and long legs.

She carried a computer bag, scanned the wall, and seemed confused. I waved her to the chair next to me and pointed out the empty electrical socket behind me.
She said "Hello" and a smile traveled in two directions but then I locked onto my screen and she locked onto hers.

Such is the barrier between ages 23 and 64.

It eroded.

My cell rang: I directed "Hello, This is Dr. Brody," to her and to a former client returning for help. Wonderful timing!

"I will be glad to see you but my schedule is at home. I'm in Barnes working on a book."

I hung up and waited no more than 10 seconds.

"Oh, you're a writer!"

Pupils dilated. Wide smile, good teeth, possible indication that her father's genes would make her a good mother. And the light mustache hinted she would enjoy getting to that condition.

My knavery led to her: "Can I show you something?" and passing her computer to me.

Her story: Law schools at Georgetown, Temple, and Wisconsin, want a self-description. "Being born in Iran..." led to a story of displacement, family separation, and reunion. It also reeked of social liberalism, to do good for all instead of respecting the ability of free thinkers to arrange their own good. And passive voice drowned it from the first capital to the last period.

"You tell a good story and you tell it well in regard to vocabulary and sequence of ideas but there is too much passive voice. Not good. Make a copy so that I can make suggestions on it.

I highlighted the copy in red and wished her well.

A few minutes later, I waved my hand, "One more suggestion: Thomas Sowell, Conflict of Visions, traces the history of top-town vs. bottom-up versions of social evolution. It's in paperback, clear, and may guide your thinking."

She wrote it down and I again wished her well.

She exuded symmetry and kindness, a nature in her despite abuse and tyranny rather than because of it. (Her story, of course, made her kindness the outcome of abuse.)
Nonetheless, did I arm an enemy? Not a bombmaker but another damned socialist attorney? And lively beautiful women sometimes carry the genetics for nasty sons. And would some of her kin hang eviscerated living me from a pole?

Probably...

JimB

Copyright, James Brody, 2006, all rights reserved.