The Misfits Go to Iran in Bloomington, MN

“Moving to Iran will be the experience of a lifetime” was the truest thing my father ever said. Even before I left our home in California, I learned change involves both loss and gain; hamburgers can make the pain of a shot go away and everyone must sacrifice for the good of others sometimes. The world was a different place in 1955. World War Two was over, Europe was rebuilding from the destruction of the war, and the First World countries were experiencing an economic boom. Iran, the United States and England were friends, and the Shah of Iran allowed the US Navy to use areas in his country for military planes. My father’s job was to take pictures of Russia’s missile silos being built after World War Two. My brother and I were sometimes called little rascals in California, but to be completely real our whole family leaned sideways. That is why I characterized my family as “misfits”. This book is a child’s view of her family living as aliens in another country. Many childhood memories are often fuzzy, but Iran was different enough for me to pay attention and remember.