During the late 1980s, I was embarking on a low-cost journey to the European continent with a companion. Because my friend was considering starting a postgraduate program in NYC, we had planned a 14-day stopover there on the way to London.
We reached the graduate housing, a sizeable multi-story edifice on the Upper West Side called International House. Setting down our luggage, we headed straight to the cafeteria, where we grabbed food, found a table, and started talking to fellow residents.
Sitting next to me was an Iraqi man pursuing an engineering degree at a prestigious New York university. He wanted to know what I did for a living, and I shared that I had recently completed my studies with a degree in science and had been working on studies with electron microscopy.
He pointed out that there was an research lab at Columbia University – close to the school of engineering, which was the reason he was familiar with it. He suggested that I consider applying for a position with them. I chuckled at the suggestion, explaining that I was heading off to Europe and, more critically, I didn’t have a US visa.
The next day I went out exploring, going back to the cafeteria that after dark. The man from Iraq came up to me and informed me that he had arranged an interview for me with the leader of the research team at Columbia. Since he had taken the effort, I attended the interview – but straight off informed my interviewer that I lacked the necessary visa, so I was likely not a suitable candidate.
As is common in NYC – a city where opportunities abound – she said: “That can be arranged. What's your start date?” I never got on that flight to London.
I held that position for a trio of years. One of the benefits was that I got free tuition at Columbia, and I seized the chance to complete a master’s of international affairs.
I lost touch with him and I am unaware of his full name, but his incredible act of kindness altered my destiny in numerous aspects. I lacked the bravery or self-assurance to approach someone at an Ivy League university and ask for a job. Moreover, I had consistently hoped to take classes in another country, but could never have afforded it without that educational benefit.
Perhaps most importantly, that gig at Columbia paved the way for a job in Zurich where I met my beautiful French husband, with whom I am raising four wonderful sons and daughters. That encounter altered everything. That helpful person set me on a different course in life, and I’m eternally thankful.
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