Exhaustion Therapy - 2

I'm not sure why I go on exhaustion-therapy. Do I do that to entertain myself or to provide entertainment for freedom-loving fun-loving dogs of this area? Seriously.

First time I tried to counter my psychological exhaustion of our orientation marathon by way of physical exhaustion, I was chased by loose dogs whose owners didn't feel like restraining them within the perimeter of their home. And although I enjoyed the nature, the stress of being chased by dogs, didn't let me really de-stress. All the while, the obsession about what happened to my advisor wouldn't leave me alone. Yet, I committed myself to another round of exhaustion-therapy before beginning my second semester at SIU.

And being certain that I would be chased by dogs didn't hinder me. Returning from Toledo made me even more depressed as I found myself in the same boring small-town isolated from everything and everywhere. People tell me that it's OK to live in a small town and you can visit bigger cities to have a change. Well, not a good solution for somebody who has grown up in a megacity and for better or worse is used to urban life. And contrasting this to my good time in my hometown, Toledo, made me feel worse when I returned (even though Toledo is much smaller than Tehran). Anyway.

This time, I chose Little Grand Canyon for my exhaustion-therapy. And I happened to pass by what I would call a dog farm. There were numerous dogs of various breeds in that farm who expressed their warm regards from afar, while trying to make it more personal. Fortunately, there was a fence keeping those enthusiastic greeters from running to the road.

And in addition to lovely canine fellows on my way there and back, Little Grand Canyon is home to some unsavory creatures as well: copperhead, cottonmouth and timber rattler. Yet, I was not much concerned that some of these creepy fellows might get sleepless and be added to my usual canine greeters. But as I got down the winding hilly country roads, I realized that there was something else that I had not accounted for at all.

Form time to time, I could hear gunshots. Yes, hunting. And thinking about the outgoing vice-president, I felt like this one could be a more serious concern; if somebody trying to pin down a low-flying game, aimed his gun too low, he couldn't see me from behind the dense vegetation separating the road from the country and well, my exhaustion-therapy could end up eternal. Quite a relaxing experience, eh?

After some adrenaline-producing relaxation, I reached my destination. Well, it was worth the physical exhaustion (and stress, while passing through the hunting zone en route). You could enjoy the gorgeous view of bluffs, canyons, the Big Muddy River and also Mississippi Valley in the distance. For some time, I could just imagine I was climbing the mountains to the north of Tehran. And it was so relaxing. That's the essence of exhaustion-therapy. Oddly enough, I didn't feel like taking photographs of all that gorgeous scenary (although I had brought my camera exactly for that matter). I wonder why.

On my way back, I was riding through Shawnee Hills Wine Trail. There are numerous wineries in this area and I had seen the road signs on my way to Little Grand Canyon. Although as a Muslim, I have no personal interest in wine, I have always been curious to see how a traditional winery looks like. I'm interested in anything old-fashioned (even be it winery). And well, there's the engineer inside me, always fascinated about learning new things, in this case contrasting the traditional way of making wine to the industrial way.

I dropped by one of the wineries. The owner offered me free samples, which I had to decline (as politely as I could). I'm not sure what would have he thought about somebody coming to a winery without taking a free sample. Then, I asked him to show me his wine-making stuff. To my surprise, the equipment were not traditional at all (the way I had seen in photos from old wineries in France and Italy), though his process was more or less traditional. And he was very patient answering my detailed technical questions, elaborating all the minute differences between his way of wine-making and how it's done in modern industrial facilities.

And when he asked about my major at school, he found it even more surprising for a sociologist to ask so many detailed technical questions. He had assumed that I must be a student of chemistry or something like that. I told him that I was an electrical engineer before coming to the US and given my interest in chemistry, I was somehow familiar/interested in chemical processes as well. I guess he had not had such an odd visitor for quite some time.

My engineering interests in the winery kept me there for a longer time that I had planned and when I left, it was almost sunset. And I was relying on a shortcut route on my biking map to get to US-51. But it turned out that the shortcut route existed only on the map (which was old). So, I had to continue on the hilly country roads.

When I was in Iran, although I loved forests, I would not had thought of biking at night amid such a wilderness. But now, here I was amid Shawnee Forest, nearly pitch dark on a bike, 15 miles away from home. Usually when I bike on country roads, I wish no cars drive by so that I can enjoy the nature without distraction. But now, whenever a car passed by, I felt like: well, I'm not completely alone amid this wilderness (I had my light, which was pretty good, but anyway).

There aren't any bears or big wild animals in this area (not that I know). But passing by hamlets, I would be greeted by dogs occasionally. In one instance, a dog darted out of its home to the road, barking and panting at the same time while showing its teeth. That's not a welcoming gesture in dog world. My experience with previous canine well-wishers had taught me that if you direct your light at their eyes, that would discourage them. But this one would stop momentarily and whenever I directed my light back to the road (which was uphill), it resumed its charging course. Fortunately, a car appeared from the opposite direction and the combination of its headlights and speed, made my not-so-friendly escort back away. The rest of the dogs on my way where not as persistent as this one, but you wouldn't know.

When I landed in Southern Illinois this August, I thought that I could make my life enjoyable by biking in the country roads, as I did in Ohio all the time. And I was never ever chased by a dog back there. But I had no idea that exhaustion-therapy might not be as relaxing and refreshing here as it was back in Ohio. Here, you can enjoy country roads as long as you own a car.

Back to Toledo - Christmas 2008

It's good to be back home. Even when you actually don't have a home there. I felt excited while I was on my way to Toledo for Christmas (and also for having a change from Carbondale). Although this snow storm interrupted a lot of my plans (including biking around the city and the places I liked), I still managed to enjoy my time. And I could meet some professors and friends. And I should thank my friends and hosts who gave me rides to some of the places I wanted to go.

I had planned a very crammed schedule to visit as many churches as possible over my stay. The icy streets didn't let me enjoy my Sunday for that matter. But I was lucky and the weather got a little bit warmer, a little bit below freezing on Christmas Eve and I could visit some churches riding my former bike (that now belongs to one of my friends).

I began my Christmas itinerary with Cedar Creek church. As a result of my busy workload last year, I was not able to make it there over Christmas 2007. I was keen to know after all the commercial advertisement they had made (which I had criticized in my Snow, Worship and Technology post), how this special service was different from their ordinary services. I already knew that their Christmas service (like all others) will be laden with Rock music. But when I visited their Toledo campus this year, I found it amusing to see the strong presence of tradition in this contemporary corporate church. And the contrast between traditional and modern elements was interesting.

The stage decorations were more or less traditional (not the typical Rock concert setting of every week). Even the dancing lights and mist were not as overbearing as always. And there was one archetype of traditional Christmas Eve that they had not been able to forgo: candles. By the end of the service, we passed the light to each other. But still, modernity was not giving its ground easily; instead of passing the light from a big candle at the altar (read stage here) and using that to light the other candles, the ushers would use their handheld electric lighters to light the candle of each person at the head of any row (me for example) and that person would pass on the light to the people in their vicinity. After all, when you embrace McDonaldization of religion, efficiency is an important factor and you have to save time; you have to provide service to such a big quantity of customers of spirituality, even if it comes at the expense of the quality of such a deep meaningful tradition.

And in a Christmas service, you expect to hear some Christmas carols. And Carol of the Bells is one of my favorites. But when you're in a modern church, you have to listen to the Rock version of any song, in this case, the one performed by Trans-Siberian, also known as Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24. Watch it here. Ditto for What Child is This (my most favorite carol). Please. Leave this one alone. Does everything has to be modernized? But still, the original versions of these carols have been so deeply etched in my memory that my brain could still reconstruct the original feeling while I was listening to the Rock remakes. Watch here for an instrumental version and here for a choral version. And here and here are Rock samples.

After this modern Christmas service, I moved on to a more moderate service at Hope Lutheran, my first church when I landed in the US and where I made my first Toledoan friends. My experience this year was more or less like my Christmas 2007. As I had reserved 11 pm spot for Grace Lutheran, I had to attend Hope Lutheran for 7 pm service, just like last year. And just like last year, this Festival Worship was very short and modest and as Pastor Tom referred to it, without much special music. And I enjoyed listening to Pastor Tom's sermon on God's Backstage Entrance, giving a modern narration/interpretation of the Nativity. And as always, his preaching style was more like lecturing. No surprise I always enjoy his sermons.

I couldn't see many of my old friends. Yet, it was still good to meet Pastor Tom and Pastor Bill. And it was a surprise for both to see me after such a long time leaving Toledo. And as I had no home in Toledo this year, just like my first days in Toledo in 2006, I could relive all those feelings. Looking around the sanctuary of my first church, I could remember all those feelings of being a new guy in town in a foreign country. And feeling like that in a church that I used to visit frequently was odd. Associative memory can do weird things.

The next shift for my work was Christ the King Roman Catholic Church. While I was in Toledo, I was eager to visit the church. Actually, I had briefly visited the empty church once and it looked somehow like a modern Catholic church. Well, not as modern as Corpus Christi University Parish, maybe somewhere between modern and traditional. But I don't know why I never scheduled a visit during a mass. I had heard that people in this church are kinda snobbish and over that brief visit, those few people around the office didn't bother to greet this visitor. I had heard that in traditional Catholic churches, they don't try too hard to make strangers feel welcome. And that visit confirmed this. Not very impressing. But over this Christmas, I decided to attend one of their masses as it fitted my schedule well. And I have to say I did not regret my decision.

When I left Hope Lutheran and started riding my former bike for Christ the King, it had become chilly and I had not brought my thicker gloves and scarf with me. A bad miscalculation about the weather. So, when I arrived at the church, I was miserably cold with numb hands and disheveled hair and beard from cold wind. More or less like a miserable homeless chap. Receiving a cold welcome from snobbish people was the last thing I wanted. But maybe I was misinformed. And maybe I had made a quick judgment over that brief visit based on misinformation.

When I arrived in the church, I was already late as a result of the strong cold wind (that slowed my biking). Yet, there were orderly welcome team who passed me from one to another to direct me toward an empty seat somewhere in the middle. Although I usually prefer to sit in the back to have a better view of what's going on, I couldn't refuse this clearly friendly welcoming gesture. And my disheveled appearance didn't make those supposedly snobbish people give me weired looks.

It took me a few minutes to warm up. But it didn't took me long to realize that the inference I had made from their midway-between-modern-and-traditional architecture was right. Their service and liturgy matched their architecture and internal arrangement of the pews. But as I was still somehow dizzy, I couldn't make the most out of this observation. And this made me regret more why I had not attended their masses in the past. Another reminder for me as a sociologist: do not simply trust what you hear about anything or any place or any people; instead, have a first-hand observation for yourself.

Then, I headed for my last stop for this silent (and miserably cold) night, Grace Lutheran. If I had any (unsubstantiated) doubts about the warmness of my reception at Christ the King, I could be certain that I would receive a very warm welcome in my home church. And unlike my first visit to Grace Lutheran over Christmas 2006 that I had traversed a distance of about five miles on foot in an unusually mild winter night, now I was on bike in a windy chilly night. So that certainty gave me warmth from within. And in another round of associative memory, I remembered that first visit that had etched a very deep positive first impression in my mind. I have to make a flashback 2 years ago.

When I arrived near Grace on that night (and I somehow felt like a stranger in town at such a late hour), I could hear very nice bell chimes. And the chimes sounded very welcoming. Like the old fashioned cozy church you see in old movies. And as an old-fashioned guy, this was the ideal church for me to attend on a Christmas Eve (although I later found those chimes to be electronically produced, not by real bells). Actually, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound was what made me discover the church (which was not easily visible from the distance). Yet, there was surprise in store for me.

The greeters who welcomed me at this church (which indeed looked like a cozy nice one) were not the typical greeters you see at a typical church. One wore a lapel pin showing he was a veteran and the other one wore a lapel pin on his leather coat for Department of Homeland Security. For an Iranian Muslim whose country was under the threat of military intervention (although I've never taken it seriously), that was quite a nice first impression, eh?

Well, both of them greeted me in a way that made such negative presumptions evaporate instantly. And both became my friends over the course of my visits to Grace later on. And I used to see the veteran fellow over weekly Bible studies that I attended frequently at Grace.

I sat down in a pew waiting for the service to begin. And I was greeted by their female assistant pastor who was greeting everybody one by one like an old friend. So, this church was not as traditional as its architecture suggested. And I had no idea about when their service would begin and finish and whether I would make it to the 11 pm service at Hope Lutheran (which was my first home church back then). And as I had walked for such a long time in an unfamiliar town, I had no clue about what time it was and how far away I was from Hope Lutheran .

I went back to my Homeland Security friend and asked him about these things. He brought up his watch to my eye and it showed about 10 minutes to 11 and informed me that Hope Lutheran was about 1.5 miles away from there. Then, he asked me if I had a car (which I didn't). And he told me he would take me to Hope Lutheran to make it to their service in time. I realized that such an inquiry (about leaving a church you've just entered for another church) was the weirdest impolite thing a stranger could have done. And I felt so embarrassed.

Leaving his post as a greeter to take a total stranger to another church was quite a gesture. And it really impressed me and made me overcome my apprehension about his lapel pin. It etched a deep mark in my mind that I will never forget. Actually, this was one of my best nights in Toledo and thinking in terms of associative memory, whenever I think of Grace and late night, my brain always brings up this memory. Probably, memories like these over my first days in Toledo, made me feel at home in a foreign country on the other side of the planet. And maybe it's the associative memory of that missed 11 pm Christmas service at Grace in 2006 that made me feel committed to choose to attend their 11 pm service last Christmas and this year.

My experience this year was more or less like last year with two differences. At the end of the service, their choir director invited anybody who felt like singing to come to the altar and join the choir for the ending choral, Hallelujah. Well, it was quite an observation. And by the end of service, although I had a bike to go back home, my Homeland Security friend (who was a greeter this year, just like 2006) insisted on taking me and my bike home in his SUV. Another kind gesture to etch that first impression of 2006 even deeper. And there was more.

Last year, Pastor Jacobs rewarded my surprise visit by a surprise gift, a cake he had baked. He had a better gift for me this year: he and his wife invited me for Christmas dinner. And after Pastor Jacobs picked me up at school the next day to take me to their home, I also had the opportunity to meet Luther. Well, not Martin Luther, rather Luther the dog. I wondered why a Lutheran pastor should name his dog after the reformer pastor who was somehow the founder of Protestantism. His explanation was kinda funny: because this dog was rebellious, just like the other Luther. Well, different kind of rebellion. Anyway.

As I had told them that in Islam, dogs should not touch your clothes or body, they kept Luther away from me. And as a result, he insisted on playing with me by pulling hard on his leash. And as they kept his leash very firmly, the poor dog ended up skidding on the wooden flooring of the kitchen while barking loud. And they told me that Luther usually ignores people who want to play with him and if I had showed any sign of interest, he would've ignored me just like other strangers; his perseverance in reaching me was exactly because he felt I was ignoring him. Sorry Luther, but rules are rules for me.

And after enjoying the elaborate family dinner, Aaron and Tatiana, our musical slaves (as Pastor Jacob's wife referred to them) entertained us with playing piano and violin solos respectively and some duets. Pastor Jacobs had invited me to the wedding of Aaron (his elder son) in August, but as I was stranded in Hotel Carbondale for my orientation marathon, I couldn't make it back to Toledo. So, this was an opportunity to meet Aaron and Tatiana, his Russian wife (both graduate students of music).

The last stop in my Toledo Christmas tour was Congregation Etz Chayim. I had visited Conservative and Reform synagogues for Shabbath and Passover. But I had never visited an Orthodox synagogue. Oddly enough, I chose the occasion of Channukah (which has been commercialized in this country just like Christmas) for this purpose. So, I knew that I would observe a worship style very close to Islam, free of any fanfare and entertainment. And I was right.

Basically, Islam and Judaism are very similar. Well, the orthodox variety of these two religions of course. And attending an orthodox synagogue for a commercialized religious holiday might not sound like a good idea. But for me, it did make sense. I could see how orthodox people in any religion would resist alterations to what they deem proper and pure religion.

The worship looked and sounded like an Islamic worship. Just prayer and worship, without a modicum of distraction or entertainment. And as I had heard, their service was male only. After my experience at a conservative synagogue, where people got mad at me for refusing to put a kippah on my head (which is not mandatory in Judaism BTW), I used the same strategy that I used over my second visit there at avoid hard feelings. I put my scarf over my head. That way I would cover my head (the real reason behind wearing kippah or hat in a Jewish service) without putting a kippah (which is against my beliefs as an orthodox Muslim). By covering your head, you show respect to God during worship. And by putting a scarf on my head, I went beyond the minimum; covering your head completely (as with a scarf or shawl) is what very devout Jews do.

And as I have grown long hair and long beard (as an orthodox Muslim), I look like an orthodox Jew as well. Putting a scarf over shabbath made me completely look like a devout orthodox Jew. Well, maybe not completely. The only problem was my poor knowledge of Hebrew. I couldn't follow the prayers from the prayer book like a real Jew and at times, felt out of sync. Anyway.

Interestingly, due to pure worship style of these orthodox Jews, I felt comfortable being around them as if I were in a mosque saying prayers as a Muslim; especially, given the fact that the prayers sounded very similar to Islamic prayers. By the end of the worship, my feelings were reciprocated by these guys and although they must have realized from my awkwardness that this Jewish looking guy was not a real Jew, almost everybody greeted me with Chofetz, which I tried to return (without knowing what it meant). Fortunately, even after they knew I was from Iran, I was not engaged in political debates (as happened in the Conservative synagogue). Well, a place of worship should be a place for thinking of God and worship only.

Inclement weather

I'm quite used to inclement weather in Midwest. I've written about it in my Cold and Adaptation post. When I was in Toledo, inclement weather rarely disrupted my life much. It hardly even stopped me from biking. But that's when you're at the safety of your home. Calling a city home in a foreign country may sound funny, but that's how I felt about Toledo.

But when you're traveling and cannot enjoy the amenities and security of being at home, life could feel rough. Especially, when you don't know when you will be secure again. Whenever such things happened and I watched people stranded at airports en route their home, I felt sympathy for them and I wished it never happened to me. But it did happen to me last night.

I was heading for Toledo to meet my professors and friends and also to enjoy Christmas at my hometown. And being in a small town in the middle of nowhere, getting anywhere is a challenge, even if it's not too far away. And it takes 570 miles to get to Toledo. That means taking a train for Chicago (5.5 hours) and then wait there for some time (2 hours or more, depending on your itinerary) and then take a bus for Toledo (another 5.5 hours). Even if you catch a flight from Chicago, it doesn't make much difference considering the time it takes to get to airport from downtown Chicago, early check-in, security, etc. And I have a very low opinion about any town that doesn't have a functioning commercial airport nearby (like Carbondale). Either way, you lose a whole day.

To save time, I had taken the afternoon train in Carbondale to catch the midnight bus in Chicago shortly and arrive in Toledo the next morning. I knew about the stormy weather, but I had no idea that buses could get canceled. I had traveled in stormy weather before and assumed those cancellations were only for airplanes. I was wrong.

I arrived at the bus stop near Union Station just to find that all buses had been canceled. I asked the Megabus agent what should I do in such weather at midnight in Chicago. And there were other people like me. He took us aboard his bus and tried to find us a hotel. It took him quite some time to find somebody answering his desperate phone calls without much success.

And we enjoyed having a free tour around downtown Chicago, while he was trying to find rooms for us without much assistance from Megabus customer service. I tried to comfort myself by enjoying Christmas lightings (I enjoy lightings under any condition), although I was very tired (sitting in an overcrowded train for about 6 hours was not much fun) and I was badly in need of some sleep and also badly stressed about missing office hours over Friday in Toledo as a result of this misfortune.

After about 3 hours wandering around downtown Chicago, he could find somebody in their customer service to accept paying for our hotel and we landed in Hampton Inn Suites for the night. It took us about another hour to actually check in and get some sleep. I appreciate the efforts of this guy and his colleague who arrived in the hotel to pay for our rooms, but when a transportation company cancels their scheduled trips, shouldn't they be responsible for stranded passengers who transfer from one vehicle to another in the middle of night? That was the most annoying thing whenever I watched news coverage of passengers stranded in the airports.

But as the saying goes, all is well that ends well. Thanks to the efforts of this guy and help from his colleague, we could enjoy our night at Hampton Inn. And it reminded me of my stopovers in Bahrain over my trips back and forth to Nicosia two years ago. And while I was walking under heavy snow of Chicago, I was thinking of one of my favorite songs, Snows of New York.

Obama or Beer?

Grading sucks. I know that as a TA, I have to do something for the money that the school pays me. I'm fine with my job of teaching (even when my students don't do their job of reading their assigned readings). But please, no grading.

I enjoy reading quizzes, exams and papers. As a sociologist, this is one of the best ways to understand how American students think and in what kind of world they're living. In my discussion sections, I tried to give my students thought-provoking quizzes. Even though grading those quizzes took me a lot of time (at the expense of my own courses), I still enjoyed reading them. Some were really bright, and some ... well, not so much.

And now I have finished a marathon of grading their final papers. It was quite a hard-labor. For this paper, they were supposed to sit somewhere, record the specs of the first 25 T-shirts they saw, put those T-shirts in categories, then rank the categories into a hierarchy based on a single criterion and finally, analyze their findings (i.e. make conclusions about those people based on their T-shirt). This was an exercise to give them a better understanding of categorization as a scientific procedure and also to make them understand how it differs from stereotyping and how bad is the latter.

Most of the students found it an interesting exercise. For the sake of the paper, they played the devil's advocate, trying to make judgments about their subjects based on their appearance (they were not allowed to interview their subjects). And by the end of the paper, they concluded how stupid it is to judge people merely based on how they appear. Well, I hope they don't forget this lesson. Superficial judgment is one of the biggest problems we have in this world.

I found some of the papers very thoughtful and I have to say they gave me quite some insight about American society in general and American college students in specific. There were some who were really brilliant in their arguments. Yet, reading some of the papers confirmed something that I knew about American colleges, specifically SIU.

I'd already observed that here, porn is more important than justice. And then, I got to witness that porn is even more popular than faith. Already knowing that I'm living in a party-land, it is trivial that in Saluki way of life, alcohol has a very high value. Reading the papers confirmed this (whether alcohol is more venerated than porn in SIU remains to be seen). A lot of students had established a category for beer, bar, party or anything related to alcohol, even though the number of alcohol-related T-shirts in their sample didn't exceed 2-3 out of 25.

Some had made fun of it, and some had taken it seriously. And interestingly, some had ranked their categories based on popularity. And party-goers (or similar names for their categories) stood high in their hierarchy. All that didn't surprise me. It just gave me a deeper understanding of American collegiate life. But among all alcohol-inspired thoughts, this line stuck out and I will remember it for quite some time:

"I like beer and beer makes me happy which is why beer is one step above Obama. If Obama influenced my life the way beer did then he would probably be a step over beer, but he doesn't."

And this was from a student whose life has been influenced and improved by attending SIU. Isn't it great to be a PhD student in such a life-transforming school?

Eid and Party

Another important Islamic Eid. Today was Eid al-Adha, the day after the pilgrims conducting Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, are about to finish their rituals. Like Eid Fetr, it is widely celebrated by Muslims all around the world. And just like the other important Islamic Eid, nobody cared about it in this multicultural liberal school (other than the professor mentioned in my Eid Fetr post).

Personally, I was not much in the mood for celebration after my grandmother having passed away last week. And as her most favorite grandson, I was depressed all over the week. And this was another reminder of being an academic prisoner here on a single-entry visa. When I was in Toledo, two of my friends had lost their father without being able to go back to Iran for the funeral or visitation or anything.

And to exacerbate things, I have to do a lot of grading (final papers of my students) and writing (my own final papers). That's tough even without such a dejected mood. So, when I got to know about the Eid party for the Muslim community in Carbondale, I decided to attend it to alleviate things a bit. Probably, my grandmother's soul would be happier with my doing my academic job instead of mourning and feeling blue (which wouldn't change anything for her).

The party was in the food court of the University Mall. Well, the name is misnomer. The mall has nothing to do with the university. Probably, as the entire town economy revolves around SIU, they've chosen to include the university in its name. But maybe it's not a complete misnomer. As there's nothing for SIU students to do in this depressing small town in the middle of nowhere, these poor souls would have to waste some time with mall-trekking. After all, that would be a healthier alternative to wild-partying.

Our Eid party was mostly about having food. I was not so hungry or not in the mood for feasting, but attending there would give me a sense of community around my Muslim brethren. As Sunni Muslims here follow Saudi Arabia in their religious calendar, they celebrated it yesterday and scheduled the party for last night. Most of Shia Muslims however, believe that the moon crescent (which is the basis for Islamic lunar calendar) should be witnessed locally. So, for me and other Shia Muslims, today was Eid. But as religious occasions actually begin the night before the occasion (i.e when the moon shows up in the sky), I could practically celebrate the night of Eid.

There were all sort of things to eat and we had to stand in line to get our plates filled in one of the eateries at the food court rented for this occasion. While we were standing in line, I noticed two mall security officers appearing. I quipped to the friend on my side, "are these guys here to protect us, or to protect against us?" to which my friend replied, " to protect against us of course, we are in America after all", to which I replied jokingly, "but as alcohol is strictly forbidden in Islam, a Muslim party would never go wild, and there's no reason for us to go on suicide bombing ourselves and our own party". We laughed at the absurdity of the joke (which has been a bitter reality with post-911 Islamophobic mania) and proceeded in the line.

It didn't took long for those mall security officers (who looked liked state troopers or sheriffs with their wide brimmed hats) to answer my joke. One of them took out a camera and started taking pictures from various angles. While it didn't feel alright to me, my initial reaction was simply turning away whenever they changed their position. After all, when you live in a small town in the middle of nowhere, you must get used to racism.

Or maybe not. That's how racism spreads its wings. You don't react to stupidity and it becomes the norm. I remember my Jewish professor at the University of Toledo. Although he's not an Orthodox Jew, he refused to shave his beard after 911. He got strip-searched and detained for 72 hours in one of the East Coast airports (Maine or Connecticut, I'm not sure) because of having a beard. I asked him why he didn't shave his beard, after all he was not an Orthodox Jew. His answer was interesting: "if German people had not caved in to Fascism, Holocaust would not had happened in Germany. We must not cave in to Fascism in this country". And his namesake is one of his uncles who's been a Holocaust survivor. Anyway.

After a while, I felt this photography spree not only offending but also stupid. There are several security cameras in every shopping mall and if we terrorist Muslims went berserk and decided to blow up our own party, the frames grabbed on those cameras would be more helpful than pictures taken like this. Our protectors continued taking pictures laboriously for about half an hour and then disappeared. While we were standing in line again for the dessert (my most favorite part in any party), they reappeared and resumed their job.

At this point, I felt annoyed and couldn't take it anymore and approached one of the community organizers and complained. He tried to comfort me by saying, "they're doing their job and they're probably taking some pictures to show their boss as evidence that they've been here". Knowing that he didn't personally believe in what he told me, I mentioned about security cameras in the mall. Then, I added that even assuming they're taking pictures for such an unlikely reason, why should they take so many pictures from different angles for more than half an hour? Even media photographers wouldn't take so many pictures from an event like this. We Muslims are facing stupidity and bigotry on a daily basis in America. Shouldn't we have some peace of mind at least in a religious party?

By this, other people around me who had been equally annoyed, joined me in protest. And our friend gave up whitewashing our protectors and went to another event organizer and they talked to the security officers and they gave up taking pictures. Interestingly enough, by the end of the party they preferred to do a more enjoyable job and joined us to have some cake. I wish they had done this earlier. By wasting their time taking so many pictures, they lost a lot of good stuff.

But partying was not over for me. There was a Teaching Celebration for our Teaching Sociology Seminar. This was an occasion to celebrate our accomplishments as TAs and also to receive our certificates of excellence for what we had done over the course of semester in this seminar. Oddly enough, the venue for this Teaching Celebration was the bowling alley at the Student Center.

We began our party by signing the frame of a certificate of appreciation for our professor and we received our certificates of excellence in return (this whole certificate business sounded superficial to me). Then, we enjoyed some pizza and punch. Fortunately, the facility is alcohol-free (our professor was very persistent on having some alcohol over the celebration). Then, the Teaching Celebration continued with some bowling. As my hands are hurt in a biking accident long time ago, I wouldn't be able to throw those heavy balls and I just had to watch others play. It was fun to see some of my professors (including our seminar professor) and fellow students jump up and down over their accomplishments in knocking down those pins.

Although I didn't participate in the real fun, I enjoyed my time there. This bowling-teaching celebration didn't provide me with a sense of community as in last night's party, but it gave me enough distraction to set me back on track with the business of grading and writing. That's life at SIU.