The most prominent and influential story that I have ever connected to concerning my culture, religion, family and background was the long journey that my father undertook to bolt himself out of his family's below poverty line lifestyle. It's a story that never fails to inspire me to challenge myself. It's a story that never fails to propel me out of my dull black  and white life. Finally, and most importantly, it's a story that never fails to instill in me the importance of having dreams and of creating the best possible lifestyle, not only for myself but also for my offspring and my household name. I've probably heard this story at every Pizza Hut sit-down I've ever had with my father so reciting my father's tale shouldn't be a total catastrophe. After gaining appreciation for hard working people like my dad, I feel that it is my obligation to pass on this story so that it can influence people to be anything they want to be whether their social class permits it or not. "A Bald Man Story" is the story of how Mazen broke through all of the obstacles around him to become free.

 A family of ten is a punishment. A family of eight boys is a crime. Yes, eight boys and not one single girl. As you can probably guess my grandma was desperately pushing for a sweet girl. Their home was more like a teepee than a real house. It was an apartment in Damascus, Syria that was probably as big as two English classes. The apartment had dust in the corners and mold coming out in every direction. There was no house bell, and the electricity was as dependable as the president.  They ate two meals a day to save money and only went to the mall on rare occasions. Unfortunately, this way of living wasn't experienced by my family alone. Millions of Syrians also suffered from this lifestyle. Syria was just a small country that was extremely populated for its size. The terrible and awful weather that was accompanied by a lousy economy were the foundations of this country. However this life that my father disliked, might have been a dream to some Syrians.

My father, Mazen, was unhappy with this lifestyle and aspired to have much more. He wanted to become successful and go to America, where he had an opportunity to gain triumph and freedom. He wanted his kids to grow up in a sanitary and beautiful place where he didn't have to wonder if they were happy or grateful  His brothers, who all bought into their family's stereotype, ridiculed my dad's ambitious ideas. However, Mazen's stubborn mindset and the continuous support that my grandma provided him was enough for him to build a Great Wall of China and block their rude comments.
 

Mazen realized that if he was going to change the perception of the  family, he was going to have to go to America and get a meaningful job. The only way he could achieve getting into America was by studying intensively in public school and staying out of trouble. No, my father wasn't straight out of Compton, but he wasn't straight out of Beverly Hills either. My father studied rigorously and whatever free time he had from his studies, he spent working at a gas station with my Grandpa and Uncles to support their family. At the gas station, Mazen would stare upon his siblings and ponder why they would give in so quickly to their families typical lifestyle and not be ambitious with their occupation. My dad, at the age of 16, would glance at the happy faces of every family that rolled in with an expensive car and prayed to God that he would be able to provide similar smiles to his future children. My not-yet-bald dad never doubted his ability to break through the sturdy doors that held him and his family to only bread and water. For it was Mazen who realized that the key to opening these doors was education.  Education would give my father knowledge about the world and help him develop his character. These privileges that my father would obtain from education  would enable him to accomplish his dreams.

Education is not preparation for life; education is life itself. -John Dewey

       
 After several years of long and brutal work, Mazen graduated at the top of his class with high honors. His family celebrated endlessly with him as they perceived that they had just ripped off the doors to their miserable and depressing lifestyle. Yet Mazen didn't give in to the presents and the high honors. My dad wanted to make sure that he was not just a flash in the pan but a truly successful free individual. He knew that the next part was to travel to America where he would try to get into any college that would allow him to enroll in their prestigious program. My father decided to take all of his money that he saved from picking up the heaps of scraps in the gas station and babysitting the annoying three- year- olds next door and buy a one-way ticket to Chicago. Why Chicago? Chicago was home to a young Michael Jordan, and he wanted to be in the arena and grasp the Chicago Bulls play basketball on the shiny and squeaky hardwood floor.

Upon landing in Chicago, Mazen quickly stormed to the only university in the Windy City that he knew of, the University of Chicago. He had no clue that the University of Chicago was ranked in the top ten schools across the country. However, Mazen was also blindly unaware that the University of Chicago, like other universities around the U.S, was being heavily pressured by several different media sources like "The New York Times", to have a livelier and more diverse college life with multiple different cultures and races. The colleges were being put on the spot because scholars realized the importance of diversity and how it brings multiple benefits to the student body as a whole. These benefits included helping the students prepare for work in a global society and enhancing their social development. Mazen, an immigrant from Syria, definitely qualified as an individual with a unique background. This pressure positively impacted my father's resume thereby making him a stronger candidate.

Sitting in a chair in front of the Dean of Admissions for the University of Chicago, my father nervously presented his resume. Without glancing over the fine paper the Dean of Admissions looked up and asked Mazen,

"How did you get here?"

To which my father proudly replied,

"I asked around for your office, and when I finally found it, I told the lady sitting outside that I needed to talk to you."

The Dean of Admissions scoffed and said,

"How did you really  get here?"

Mazen told him everything. From his anxiety-filled childhood all the way to becoming valedictorian in his class. While rambling on about his life, Mazen realized that the Dean of Admissions was leaning forward in his leather chair, listening carefully to every word that my dad was saying. Once Mazen was finished, the Dean of Admissions picked up the telephone and called another native English speaker. By the end of the lengthy phone call, my father was enrolled in to Loyola University in Chicago. Not the University of Chicago but nonetheless a highly esteemed university.  Loyola would be the campus where he would learn to make friends and join a lively and diverse community on campus, by getting involved with other people with similar goals and interests.                            
                               

Mazen held in his tears, thanked the man, and walked out of the campus knowing that he was not a flash in the pan. It was at that moment that my father realized he broke down all the stereotypical and generalized barriers that were pitted against him. It was at that moment that Mazen thanked himself for enduring so much labor. Finally, it was at that moment when my father realized he was going to celebrate for overcoming all of the obstacles that he faced and buy a ticket to watch the Chicago Bulls basketball game.
 

This true story will be passed on through countless of generations of the family. My uncles, all of my siblings, and I will be telling this story to our offspring and hope to inspire them to believe that anything  is possible. My father's story has become a tradition for our family to have. The tradition isn't to merely live and copy my father's ways, but it is to just believe  that we are capable of doing anything and surpassing any doors that we may come across. I hope that my father's bumpy journey inspires not only my future children but also all minorities and common people who feel locked down on a way of life that they do not desire. Folk tales are meant to inspire children to achieve their dreams. Folk tales are meant to pass on traditions and customs to many generations. Lastly folk tales are meant to impact us and shape who we become. I can find no better story that fits these three categories. This is the story of how Mazen overcame all of the obstacles around him to achieve success for himself and his family.