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In March of 1993 I came back to Stamford, CT from college and went to a McDonald's at the intersection of Broad Street and Bedford Street while waiting for my uncle to come home. Once I ordered and sat down to eat a woman with her hyper son entered. They spoke Persian although the mom seemed very beaten down and tired. The son enthusiastically told his mom in Persian that he wanted french fries and the mom in Persian responded that she would get them for him. She placed her order using her broken English. I should have spoken to her if only to enable her to communicate in her mother tongue so far away from home. I don't know why I didn't.



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