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By Way of Oak Street is a quiet, assured piece of creative nonfiction that succeeds through restraint rather than spectacle. Its power lies in how it translates a deeply specific cultural moment—a Lebanese vegan wedding brunch in a Boston backyard—into a universal meditation on belonging, hospitality, and the temporary grace of being welcomed into another people’s history.
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By Way of Oak Street
By Harry Arabian
The invitation arrived like a postcard from another life—cream paper, careful script, and an illustration of red-roofed village homes perched above a blue Mediterranean curve. Samir & Nadia. Saturday. 11:30 a.m. Vegan wedding brunch. It promised Lebanon by way of Oak Street, which felt improbable and therefore irresistible.
Samir and I worked together on the engineering floor, where logic ruled and lunches were eaten quickly between meetings. He had come to us from a village in northern Lebanon with a calm intelligence that made complicated circuits seem polite. His lunches were always suspiciously virtuous—greens, grains, things that looked alive. I learned why at a company Christmas party, when I met Nadia, a nurse from Mount Auburn Hospital. She spoke gently but firmly about heart health and natural choices, the way some people speak about faith. Samir listened the way engineers listen when the data is sound.
That Saturday, I pulled into the first empty spot on Oak Street and immediately knew I was close. Lebanese music spilled into the air—drums and voices rising and falling—and smoke curled above the fences like a signal fire. I hesitated before getting out of the car, suddenly aware that I was arriving alone, a colleague rather than family, unsure of the rules of entry—or whether there even were any for someone like me.
The backyard dissolved that worry quickly. Where grass once struggled, a village square now stood: a saj oven breathing heat, women slicing man’oush with practiced hands, tables dressed in white and green. Platters overflowed with herbs, tomatoes, olives, cheeses, and spices. The scent of baking dough and thyme wrapped around everything, persuasive and warm.
In one corner, a small fountain burbled—an echo of a mountain spring—its steady pulse threading through conversation and song. It felt less like a wedding and more like a remembered place that had decided, for a few hours, to be real.
I greeted Samir, radiant in a quiet way, and Nadia, luminous and steady. Family members pressed plates into hands before names could be exchanged. Folding chairs had been arranged with care, and I took one, noticing how easily people shifted to make room, how belonging here seemed elastic.
At exactly 11:30, the ceremony began. The Maronite prayers settled the space—measured phrases repeated like a tide—while an elder traced the sign of the cross and incense thinned the sunlight. Behind us, the saj continued to smoke patiently, as if time itself had agreed to wait.
When it ended, the music surged. Dabkeh erupted—feet stamping, hands linked—and laughter spilled across Oak Street. The smell of man’oush followed the rhythm, drifting beyond the yard, announcing to anyone passing that something joyful was happening here.
For a moment, Boston felt very far away. We were in a village square by the sea, under red roofs, eating simply, dancing fully. I realized I wasn’t just witnessing a wedding; I was being offered a history I hadn’t earned but was welcome to share—one warm slice of bread at a time.
Book Club Summary
ReplyDeleteBy Way of Oak Street is a reflective personal essay that explores how culture, memory, and belonging can briefly converge in unexpected places. Framed by a wedding invitation that promises “Lebanon by way of Oak Street,” the story follows a narrator attending a coworker’s vegan Lebanese wedding brunch in a Boston backyard. What begins as polite curiosity slowly unfolds into a rich sensory experience—music, food, ritual, and community transforming an ordinary street into a living village square.
Through careful observation rather than explanation, the essay traces the narrator’s movement from outsider to welcomed participant. The professional distance of the engineering floor gives way to the warmth of shared bread and communal ritual. Lebanese traditions—man’oush baked on a saj, Maronite prayers, dabkeh dancing—are presented not as spectacle, but as everyday expressions of continuity and care. The narrator’s initial hesitation dissolves as hospitality proves expansive and unguarded.
At its heart, the piece reflects on diaspora and the generosity of cultural sharing. The narrator recognizes that belonging does not always require ancestry or permanence; sometimes it arrives briefly, offered without obligation. The essay concludes with a quiet realization that being welcomed into another community’s history, even temporarily, can be deeply sustaining—a reminder that human connection often travels through the simplest acts.
Discussion Questions
The Meaning of “By Way Of”
How does the title shape your understanding of place and belonging in the essay? What does it suggest about cultural identity as something visited rather than possessed?
Outsider Perspective
The narrator is conscious of arriving “as a colleague rather than family.” How does this awareness influence the tone of the essay? Did you find the narrator’s position respectful, tentative, or transformative—and why?
Food as Cultural Language
In what ways does food function as more than nourishment in the story? How do the descriptions of man’oush, herbs, and shared plates communicate history and values without explicit explanation?
Ritual and Time
Consider the juxtaposition of the Maronite ceremony and the ever-present saj oven. What does this pairing suggest about the relationship between ritual, daily life, and continuity?
Temporary Belonging
The essay ends with the idea of being offered “a history I hadn’t earned but was welcome to share.” How do you interpret this statement? Can temporary belonging be as meaningful as permanent inclusion? Have you experienced something similar?