Jeff's Post

Another flitched mail but why why why are we still bombing syria 

My Syrian Neighbors

A few weeks ago, I was walking downtown in Portland, Maine, and, while waiting for a traffic light to change, I waved at a young boy sitting on his father’s shoulders. It was just before six o’clock in the evening and the autumn air had the first pang of winter as the sky faded to gloaming. As the cars went by on Washington Ave, I smiled at the boy’s mother and noticed she was holding a white binder. She smiled back. I asked if she was going to class at Portland Adult Education, which is just down the street. Her husband said, “Yes, her first English class. I am walking her.” We spoke in broken English and lots of hand gestures for the next five minutes as I walked with them to PAE, where I volunteer.

I learned their names were Nader and Jamileh, that they had been in the US for three months and that they were from Syria. I asked if they had what they needed: clothes, an apartment, warm jackets, food, etc. “Oh yes,” said Nader. I wasn’t sure he understood all my questions, so when we arrived at the school, I gave Nader my phone number and told him to text me if he needed any help with anything. I explained that I was an English teacher and could help them with paperwork or finding supplies. He thanked me and shook my hand.