You’re living in Iran in the 1960s. The Shah, the ruler of your people, is trying to westernize your entire country. There’s one big problem: Iran is still a third-world country for the most part. Many parts outside the cities don’t have running water, a consistent income, or reliable food. Most of your countrymen are devout Muslims whose way of life is threatened. In addition, your borders with Iraq caused a dispute over a small piece of land. But you are a prodigy from a low-income family who sent you to boarding school alone. You then get into an amazing dental school on scholarship and graduate near the top of the class. You are my grandpa.

After marrying my grandma, my grandpa was designated the dean of a dental school in his early thirties, teaching one class while overseeing its construction, hiring, and training. He was successful by anyone’s definition. While looking forward to a few decades of work, maybe a few kids, and a happy retirement, it happened: the Shah overstepped his bounds. The dispute with Iraq turned into a full war while the government in Iran began to fight off waves of revolutionaries that didn’t want the West to change their culture. Because of their country’s unrest, my grandparents took a sabbatical to Temple University in America intending to return in a year if things calmed down.

Things didn’t get better, so my grandpa went back to Iran. Alone. For a time, things continued to be almost normal in Iran despite the new government and radical religious policies. However, my grandpa couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to get out. He had pictures with the Shah on his phone, didn’t practice his religion, and didn’t support the Iran-Iraq war - all things that could easily get him imprisoned and executed. When an opportunity presented itself, he dressed up as a Taliban member and smuggled himself out through the Turkish border. It was a risky plan, and Iran was on high alert. Unfortunately, he was captured, shoved in jail, and left to rot for thirty days. He felt no hope of ever seeing his wife, two beautiful kids, or adoring students again. Miraculously, one of those adoring students, a favorite, was working as a prison dentist and recognized him. He negotiated for my grandpa’s release., My grandpa didn’t give up; his next escape attempt had to be well-planned, a perfect procedure fitting for a surgeon. Any error could cost the lives of everyone he loved. Instead of Turkey, he decided on Balochistan: an obscure providence of Pakistan who let shepherds in and out with no regard. With a flock of sheep, he made it safely over the border on foot and two months later, he was back in America.

I’d like to say it ends there, that he lived happily ever after with his family safe, his coworkers alive, and himself intact, but then I’d be lying. The stress of separation was too much for his relationship with my grandma. They divorced, and she took the kids. Not only did he turn it into an opportunity instead of an obstacle, he obtained his dental license and started teaching at Uconn Dental College. A prodigy in Iran was still a prodigy in America, so he was named teacher of the year twice and moved to California as his kids grew up. He opened his dental practice there and remarried, completing the story. 

Whenever I fall upon a hard time, maybe a bad grade, a rejection, or a slow race, I can count on his narrative of achievement, escape, and perseverance to show me how minuscule my problems are.