plans for doing so—partially because they never really expected me to stay indefinitely in the United States! “We thought you would be returning to Iran,” stated the dean.
Armed with the knowledge I had reached the limits of opportunity at GWU, I kept my ears open for other prospects in academia. One of my colleagues at the executive education program I taught at Penn State University approached me about a potential appointment to a soon-to-be-created chair in 1992.
I interviewed with Penn State benefactor William A. Schreyer, chairman emeritus of Merrill Lynch, along with Dean J. Hammond, and I accepted the newly endowed position as professor of Global Management, Policies, and Planning, with the understanding that I would additionally be the founding director of the new Center for Global Business Studies. Schreyer became my friend and mentor and later encouraged me to join the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), one of the world’s preeminent foreign policy think tanks.
Moving from Washington, D.C., to State College, Pennsylvania, was another culture shock. Instead of being in a multiethnic city with world stature, I was now in the bucolic seat of college football mania, also fondly known as Happy Valley.
After a couple of years settling into the Penn State community, my twins, John Cyrus and Anna Shahrzad, were born. Having learned the lesson with our daughter Otessa, we decided to give them American first names and Persian middle names.
My consulting had me traveling globally, so regardless of where I was, I never stopped working. One of the opportunities my new position afforded me was to create my own board of directors for my center, and I chose a number of leaders from industry powerhouses whom I had worked with as a consultant. Eventually, I began to wonder when I would be asked to serve on any boards. While these Fortune 100 companies readily asked (and paid handsomely) for my insight and guidance, over the course of fifteen years I saw many board positions come and go with no offers proffered in my direction. I eventually figured out I would have to swallow my pride and actually ask to be considered. In 2006, I was granted a seat on the board of directors at Westfield Insurance Group. Headquartered in the Cleveland region, Westfield is an insurance and banking group of businesses. In addition to having a strong presence in Ohio, Westfield provides commercial and personal insurance in twenty-one states and surety services in thirty-one states. It has $3.7 billion in consolidated assets. Needless to say, I was honored to be selected to serve on the board.
The following year, the former vice president of Kodak North America and prior head of Kodak’s Healthcare Business Unit, Bob Hamilton, approached me to sit on the board of the newly formed Nason Medical Center, an innovative company that provides emergency and urgent care at one-sixth the cost of hospital emergency rooms. Nason is headquartered in Charleston, South Carolina, and it has served over five hundred thousand people in the region since the company started in 2005. The wait times at the emergency and urgent care centers are significantly shorter than the wait times at hospitals. As a board member, I helped to raise money for the firm as well as expand Nason from one facility to five.
Here I was, feeling as if I had finally been accepted into the bastion of white America. But now, looking back on all of my choices and the impetus upon which they were based, I cannot help but wonder if my story is unique.
Like many other immigrants before and after me, I had become aerodynamic, shaped by the stronger-than-normal forces I had encountered in my lifetime as an immigrant. I worked hard not to be knocked over by these forces, which often led to sacrifices. Having worked over seventy hours a week for most of my life, my family life was at times set aside. I relied on my wife, Lis, and my children to fend for themselves when I