I’m going to get a haircut this week.  Please try to contain your excitement over this.

The lady that cuts my hair has been doing so about thirty years. My first haircut with her was quite random. I just dropped into one of the several places in Cobb County’s Cumberland Mall when I determined things had grown a bit shaggy sometime around Atlanta’s hosting of the 1996 Olympics.

We’ve since moved from mitigating cow licks to receding hair lines. I now know her not only to be kind, but an amazing person. Despite me having moved to the Georgia coast years ago, no one has cut my hair since we met but her.

She works hard six days a week. I’ve listened to stories about her raising two sons, and now her third grandson. She’s seen me at my best and helped get me through my worst. There was a too long stretch of several months in there where she wouldn’t accept payment from me, knowing I didn’t really have her meager fee to spare.  I’m proud to call her a friend.

There’s something about a barber or stylist that gets people talking. I guess once you’ve let someone into your personal space and alter your appearance you have already accepted a certain level of trust. Real talk occurs during haircuts.

Over three decades, we’ve had our share of real conversations. We know many of each other’s problems and worries. We know a lot about each other’s families. We know where we’re coming from in dealing with our day to day, which brings me to the point of telling you more about her.

She has a slight but beautiful accent with her perfect command of English, but her native language is Farsi. She was born in Iran. Her religion is Baha’i Faith. Her story is pure American.

I had never heard of her religion until she told me about her journey. Her family had to escape Iran when the late Shah was overthrown in the 1970’s. 

Baha’i is a peaceful religion that is politically agnostic. Their followers are often the first people targeted by religious fundamentalists during revolutions, and often executed, as the oppressors can make a point to all other groups while receiving little pushback from Baha’is.

Her family first fled to a neighboring country, then Canada, and after several months made it to America. Her sons know their native culture and country well, but have been raised as Americans. This is now their forever home.

I’m old enough to remember the revolution, as I was about ten as it unfolded. Much of my political awareness was galvanized by the events of that era.  

Economically, the oil embargos produced a stagflation that caused inflation much worse than we’ve experienced over the past few years. We also saw our national might openly questioned and mocked by the new regime holding 52 hostages from our embassy in Tehran for 444 days.

The Ayatollahs have used their oil money not for the Iranian people, but to finance a terror network that has destabilized the middle east and openly threatened and undermined the west. It is understandable why most Americans view Iran as an enemy, if not the enemy. 

Through our years of visits, I’ve grown to understand an Iran that once was.  It’s what Iran still is in the heart and soul of many expatriates as well as those who live oppressed under the current regime. 

There remains a great pride of an Iran that had the most educated population in the region. It was forward thinking. It combined centuries of culture with a hip vibe. The standard of living for most Iranians was among the best in the world. There are strong hopes and dreams of what Iran might one day be again.

There have been uprisings against the current regime several times since our haircuts began. We’ve discussed them all. 

Each time, you could see and hear the hope and determination. You could also see the stoic resolve that a now half century of persistence has mandated. 

Maybe this is the time that the people can live freely. Maybe Iran can one day be a leader again in the west, instead of being the chief architect and financier attempting to undermine it. But maybe the wait will continue.

Thus far, at least publicly, America has only sent words of encouragement to those protesting for change. What we know for certain is that things are becoming increasingly violent. Those fighting for peace are literally putting their lives on the line. 

We also know that regime change has open possibilities. What happens next, even if the Ayatollah falls, will likely be messy. “They lived happily ever after” is an ending reserved for fairy tales, not global politics. 

I’m looking forward to my haircut not because I’m overdue, but because there will be a warm hug. On my end, it will be one of encouragement and of shared hope. 

Say a prayer for those in Iran and what they must endure over the days and weeks ahead. Their success will influence if not outright determine our next chapters in world history.