Letters to the Editor

I started at IC in 1953 and graduated in 1957. We had some very favorite teachers then, including Richard Yorkey and Mr. Basrawi. Yorkey taught English and was a brilliant teacher. He always encouraged us with various assignments to think for ourselves. I don’t have to tell you that for teenagers who had grown up in the Middle East, this was a revolutionary approach to teaching. I will never forget one of his first writing assignments which was to write down our thoughts about “progress.” That was quite a shocker for a 13-year-old who had been taught to simply memorize what the “wise” teachers of his background said or wrote down!

Anyway, I got to be very fond of Yorkey and he had a major impact on my thinking and approach to many things in life. During our junior year, Yorkey gave us an immense assignment. We were to research any particular subject of interest to us, individually, and write a treatise about it – something akin to the kind of assignment a graduate student might receive while doing their master’s degree or doctorate.

I went over to the library at the American University of Beirut which was right next door and started browsing through the various shelves of books. Somehow, my attention was drawn to about 5 or 6 books that dealt with the subject of hypnosis. I checked those out, brought them over to our dormitory, and proceeded to read all of them. In the process I learned about the technique of hypnosis and ways to induce it. I also completed my writing project which consisted of around 80 pages of text and submitted the assignment to Yorkey.

But, the greatest fun resulting from this assignment was that my friends discovered I had been studying hypnosis and either asked me or challenged me to hypnotize them. In accordance with my studies, I knew that some people are more easily hypnotized than others and it was easy enough to identify those to start with. As time went on, I became more adept at hypnotizing even some of the more resistant subject.

In any case, my hypnosis sessions involving various fellow students quickly became a major entertainment source in our dormitory. There were quite a few classmates who smoked and wanted help with quitting. I would use post-hypnotic suggestions to have them think of smoking as unpleasant, etc. and ask them to quit. They would usually quit for one week or so and, to save face, would say they were quitting just to make me feel good. Anyway, it got to be fun to see how long each smoker would quit and what kinds of excuses they would manufacture to explain their susceptibility to hypnosis.

A great many fellow students and dormitory residents asked to be hypnotized and, of course, there were usually a handful of other students present at the time of these sessions. Sometimes, I would demonstrate the power of hypnosis by giving post-hypnotic suggestions that were somewhat dramatic. We had a fellow student who was very meek and mild-mannered. I hypnotized him and told him that when he woke up he would have a very strong urge to eat an orange. When I roused him, he made a beeline to the nearest orange on an adjacent table and devoured the orange, including parts of the skin, quickly and in a rough and aggressive manner. Those present were shocked in the transformation in his behavior.

The upshot of my experience at IC with hypnosis was that, in the back of my mind, I was always fascinated by psychology. Even though I moved to the US and got Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in mechanical engineering from MIT, I somehow ended up getting my Ph.D. in psychology and became a professor of psychology at UCLA at the age of 24.

Now, to get back to the subject of our favorite and only chemistry teacher, Mr. Basrawi, I remember visiting the campus on my way to the US and spending some time with my fellow classmates. I, of course, asked about Mr. Basrawi and was shocked to learn that he had been killed. Apparently, his sister who was married had had an affair and his brotherin-law had stormed into the Basrawi compound and shot everyone in sight, including our dear Mr. Basrawi. I know this is a sad note on which to end my present set of recollections, but it is also very telling of the culture and times where we grew up to become adults.

I have many other fond recollections of my days at IC, but will save those for another time.

I want to end with my warmest best wishes to fellow students who lived through those exciting and enriching times in Beirut, the Paris of the Middle East.

Albert Mehrabian, Ph.D. ‘57

During the spring of 1970, Dr. Imad Kaddoura (in eye glasses 2nd from the right - experimental science 1970 graduate, currently plastic and cosmetic surgeon in Beirut) in the driver seat with Diya Obeid (Math 1970 graduate, currently CEO of JobDiva in New York City - over the car bumper 1st from the left) in the passenger seat along with couple of other IC students won a Rally Paper race hosted by a car dealership in Ras Beirut. The police looked the other way when the contestants raced through the narrow streets of Beirut intermingled with public traffic.

Letters to the editor

To my dear friend, Robert Tomé ’72, With love, Fadi Abdul-Karim ‘72

I do not remember where we first met. It was in the late 60’s, somewhere between Edward Tabanji flipper machines, Tarazi’s Lucky Cream, Tarazi’s Sandwiches across the street, the Futowwa Church Floor, and Socrate peach melba. Or maybe it was at one of IC classes, IC Kermes, or the IC soccer field. The weekends were occupied with playing table top cardboard soccer, table top pinball, the movies, or just hanging out at someone’s balcony. But let us not forget the “Band”, the everlasting dream of every IC kid. We would meet every Saturday to rehearse, but mainly to pose for pictures. I do not recall why we changed the band’s name from the “Bombers” to the “Rainbow Riders”, but then nothing had to be politically correct. He looked very professional with an electric guitar, though I do not recall ever hearing it being played. A combination of an Engelbert Humperdinck look with a guitar was in.

It was an innocent life and friends were plentiful. But girls were almost extinct, at least that is how we felt when a smile from her face took us to another world and a phone call was an act of courage, especially when they hung up on us. We were young and we shared bonds that we thought would never break, and some never did.

Then there was Brazil. Robert and his mom were moving to live in Sao Paulo for good. Brazil was far but close, as millions of Lebanese lived there, or so we heard. It was the country that produced Pele, the only person to ever drink a bottle of Pepsi in one gulp, right in front of us at the AUB field. It was the country that brought us Roberto Carlos who made us fall in love with every girl we saw, though we never understood a word he sang. We all went to the airport to say goodbye. That was a treat then, to have lucky cream at the airport and to see the planes from the balcony. He was gone, and Elton John played “Daniel” is travelling tonight on a plane, I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain or did he mean “Brazil”. And yes, handwritten letters came every month with pictures. Pictures of a nice house, nice 60’s clothes, and a real girlfriend. Brazil seemed good for the Lebanese Engelbert Humperdinck. “They say Brazil is pretty though I’ve never been. Well Daniel says it’s the best place that he’s ever seen; Oh, and he should know, he’s been there enough.”

It was the summer of 1970, on a Saturday at 1 pm, at the top of the stairs that lead from the upper campus to the AUB beach, where everyone went each day to play trump, meet friends and yes occasionally swim…...when John said “Robert died”. I turned around, went back home, slammed the door to my bedroom, and cried all afternoon. A week later, a letter came from his mother. It was written in sad perfect Arabic. It told of a journey of suffering from spreading cancer, and extensive therapy. There was a memorial card with a writing of the Arabic poet Abu Alaa Al Maari “sadness at the time of death exceeds happiness at the time of birth”

The letter ended with a thanks to God that he never knew what was wrong with him and blessings for me. “He loved us till the end”. I do not recall if I ever wrote back to her and maybe I like to think that I did. No one heard back. Years went by, and war came and left, and I moved to Cleveland. I kept the letter, every picture, and every memory. “sadness at the time of death exceeds happiness at the time of birth” Abu Alaa Al Maari

Letters to the editor

In early 2016, a physician from Brazil showed up at the Cleveland Clinic. I was somehow assigned or volunteered to give her a tour of our department. I mentioned to her that I thought that there were millions of Lebanese in Brazil, and she smiled and said, “yes and I am married to one of them”. On another of her visits, she invited me to give a talk at their conference in Brazil. I said “Yes, but are you anywhere close to Sao Paulo”… they were in San Palo. Maybe I can visit my friend’s house, maybe his mother is still alive at over 85 years, maybe and then maybe I can fore fill a promise that I had made to myself to visit the grave site.

Mr. Ricardo Blanco, a Brazilian lawyer that I got connected with through a mutual Brazilian physician friend in Cleveland agreed to try to assist me at finding the grave site. With no information at hand except a name, the date of birth and death (26/10/1953- 26/5/1970), and the mother’s name, he searched every possible record in Sao Paulo; a city of 12 million people. The house that stood at the address on the letter was no longer there, replaced by an office building. Robert’s mother had died in 2009 in a town 7 hours from Sao Paulo. A death certificate was found and it stated that Robert was buried in the Cemiterio da Consolacao, Sao Paulo, in the family grave burial of Mr. Ernesto. At the conference, they were playing American songs by Brazilian artists. At my request, they played for me a song by Roberto Carlos. He is about 75 now and only seniors in attendance seemed to remember and appreciate. The younger folks said that he now rehashes old songs. But for me “café da Manha, and Amigo Amigo” could never be recycled always bringing joy and tears, though still I did not understand any of the words. Sometimes that is just not important. Sunday morning, Mr. Blanco and I walked through rows of ornate tombs at the Cemiterio da Consolacao. And there it was. The grave of the family Ernesto… All the family members were listed on commertative plaques. Every plaque matched the names on the certificate of burial at that tomb, but though Robert‘s name was on that list…there was no plaque with his name on the tomb. I wanted to leave my letter and pictures there but somehow, I could not get myself to do it…He was there but unrecognized. I just held on to them and walked sadly back. And Elton John song plays again “Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won’t heal. Your eyes have died but you see more than I. Daniel you’re a star in the face of the sky”.

Forty-six years later, I know now what is simple to understand from Roberto Carlos song “Amigo Amigo : Não preciso nem dizer. Tudo isso que eu lhe digo. Mas é muito bom saber. Que eu tenho um grande amigo” (I don’t even have to tell you. Everything that I’m telling you. But is very good to know. That I have a great friend)…. And maybe this song and my writing to my IC friends is my plaque to Robert. But when I switched from my Roberto Carlos CD to the Radio MercyMe was singing “Dear younger me. …. if I knew then what I know now, would’ve not been hard to figure out what I would have changed if I had heard……”

Letters to the editor

Reminiscences – IC in the early nineteen fifties

It can be said confidently that IC instills in students high standards of learning in all fields taught so that they become well rounded, standing high above graduates of not only most regional high schools, but most regional universities as well, some of which are better described as “glorified high schools”.

In the early nineteen fifties, Mr. Leslie Leavitt presided very ably and with dedication over the school. Mr. Leavitt liked to point to us the correct pronunciation of words. Among other activities he would often invite notable people like writers, journalists, etc… to speak to the higher classes of the College. One person I will never forget is Helen Keller, an American woman who was blind and deaf. She had a companion who would read her lips and convey her thoughts to the audience. Mostly her speeches centered on the handicapped and overcoming the challenges they faced, as well as on the underprivileged and the poor, whose cause she always championed.

To illustrate the strengths of IC, I will consider here two subjects: English and Mathematics.

For English we had Mr. Richard Yorkey, a competent and able communicator who guided us through so many great literary works including Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, the Rhyme of The Ancient Mariner, the famous poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and in fiction The Bridge of San Luis Rey, a novel by Thornton Wilder.

I vividly recall some key parts of these three great literary works. What recently reminded me of the Ancient Mariner poem is the news about the sea gulls near Beirut airport that threaten aircraft and had to be culled, just as the albatross was shot down by the ancient mariner.

The sea gulls of Beirut are as innocent as the albatross. But whereas the shooting of the albatross brought about the curse on the ancient mariner and on the ship, the sea gulls of Beirut appeared on the scene only after what may be called “the curse of the garbage”.

Turning back to academia, I look at mathematics, taught back then by Mr. Atef Karam and Mr. Yacoub Haddad. The abilities of these two teachers to elucidate and explain the subject matter made comprehension much easier, in both Algebra and Geometry. Such comprehension remains with students no matter what future fields of specialization they choose to follow and would be of immense value through one’s career. Mr. Atef Karam would intersperse his lectures with jokes, by way of diversifying a rather dry subject.

Mazen K. Dajani ’54

Save the Date

We will be celebrating the: 50th Graduation Anniversary for the graduates of 1967 on October 6-8, 2017. 35th Graduation Anniversary for the graduates of 1982 on July 2, 2017. 25th Graduation Anniversary for the graduates of 1992 on July 1, 2017. 20th Graduation Anniversary for the graduates of 1997 on July 8, 2017. All Alumni Reunion on July 4, 2017. All reunions will take place at the Ras Beirut Campus.

For tickets/information contact: The Office of Alumni & Development at: alumni@ic.edu.lb Tel: +961-1-367420

Construction New Preschool/Middle School

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International College

P.o. box 113-5373, beirut, Lebanon. Tel. 961 1 367420/33, Fax: 961 1 367433. 215 Park Avenue South, Suite 1710, New York, NY 10003, U.S.A. Tel. : 212 529 3005, Fax: 212 529 8525. www.ic.edu.lb email: alumni@ic.edu.lb Facebook: www.fb.com/ICLebanonAlumni Twitter: www.twitter.com/ICLebanonAlumni