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Op-Comic: My grandmother and I didn’t share a common language, but we didn’t need one

Comic panel of a grandmother drawing on a pad for a child, who is wearing a magician's hat and sitting on her lap.
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My earliest memory of my Iranian grandmother is of her hands. They were soft, the product of years of diligent moisturizing
When I saw her for the last time, I meant to draw her hands. "It's me, Navied." [Image of hands hugging someone's back]
She would draw for me as a child. "It's called a bolbol*." *Nightingale [Image: a grandmother drawing for a child on her lap]
And she always encouraged my sleight of hand. [Image: A man pulls a quarter from behind the ear of a woman in a hospital bed]
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My Persian never progressed beyond that of a 6-year-old, but we had art and illusions. [Image: a magic trick between hands]
Words were never that important anyway. "Do that again, Navied." [Image: grandmother in a hospital bed with grandson by side]

Navied Mahdavian is a cartoonist and writer. He is a contributor to the New Yorker and author of the graphic memoir “This Country: Searching for Home in (Very) Rural America.”

When we moved out into the country, we took a shotgun with us and let visitors shoot it for the real “Idaho experience.” Then came a sickening boom in the night.

Sept. 12, 2023

The sofreh cloth meant many things in my Iranian American culture: food, memory and often a death in the family. My daughter and I are keeping it special.

June 19, 2023

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