Shokufeh is... home

3-2-1 Contact

Earlier this week, I suggested to Sam that maybe we should make him a t-shirt that says "Shokufeh's Husband," or "Married to Shokufeh," or "Shokufeh's my wife," or some-such that would convey to others that he is intimately linked to me. I just think it would make life a little more interesting and easier. New Orleans is a city of village-like connections: it is not unusual to run into people you know. In fact, it is unusual not to. Last week, my mother was bemoaning the state of her hair after we ran into someone she hadn't seen since high school. Today, in an attempt to satisfy my curiousity about a building I'd seen from a distance, we drove around a neighborhood I never spend time in. We didn't find the building, but I did take some interesting pictures, and passed by my old next door neighbor chatting it up on a streetcorner. Of course, we turned around to go say hello. This crossing of paths is one of the things I love, absolutely love, about living in New Orleans again. I feel a little bummed out that Sam can't experience this. Of course, the longer he lives here, the more likely it is that, in the course of daily living, he will run into friends and acquaintances. But I figure a t-shirt can put it on the fast track. I'm relatively sure that I'm the only Shokufeh in town. (At least as a first name. The aunt of an elementary school classmate really liked my name and, I'm told, gave it to her daughter as middle name.) When people see his t-shirt they may say "Oh! I should meet him." or "Ew! I should walk in the other direction." But there will be some sort of connection. Eventually.