Ooh, Hazel, this is nice.
Nah, too flashy.
What does that mean, "too flashy"?
It's simple.
Monday is the first day of junior high.
All the other kids are gonna be
trying to get noticed right away,
which I think we can agree is a fatal mistake.
I'm just gonna let the grunts fight it out,
while I wait on a hill with binoculars and a cup of coffee.
She is going to take over the world.
It's my retirement plan.
Fine, I'll get the flashy backpack.
I think it's nice.
Community college is gonna eat you alive.
It's very hot in here.
Really? Feels fine to me.
I-I think I maybe need to go outside, get some air.
You okay?
Yes, yes.
It's just the lights.
They're doing a thing--
brighter, less bright,
brighter, less bright...What's going on?
Whoa, buddy. Hey. Uncle Al!
Come on, talk to me, pal.
Come on, pal. Talk to me.
Al, talk to me.
What happened?
You passed out. Honey, go get him a Gatorade.
On it. Come here.
Yeah, your heart's really racing.
Maybe I shouldn't get the flashy backpack.
[chuckles] Okay. All right.
♪
♪ Oh!
They just drove up.
It's about time.
What took you so long?
Uncle Al passed out.
The paramedics came and everything.
What? You okay?
It is not a big deal.
I probably just had too much garlic.
Garlic?
Did he hit his head?
Has this happened before?No.
I mean, once in a while I get dizzy
and have to lay my bare belly down
on cool cement or someone's lawn.
How many times?
I don't know.How many?
A few. How many?
Five.
That's a lot.Three.
So, your lab work looks fine.
Your blood pressure and EKG are normal.
There's nothing physically wrong with you.
Great, sorry to bother you.
Well, hold on.
Your passing out concerns me.
Are you under any stress?
No.
Sure you are.
I'm sure I'm not.
The thing you need to know is
that anxiety can cause fainting spells.
Once again, I do not have anxiety.
I have a roof over my head and food to eat.
Is it possible that I am suffering
from a garlic overdose?
No.
Mm, you don't sound sure.
Mr. Karimi, do you have a history of panic attacks?
I have been attacked many times and I've never panicked, so no.
So just the five events you described to the nurse.
[chuckles] Tho-Those were not panic attacks.
And I thought we were just chatting.
Mental health is not my specialty,
but I can refer you to a colleague.
No, no, no, no. I-I'm not crazy.
No one is saying you are.AL: Good.
It was lovely meeting you.
Well, at least let me prescribe a mild sedative
to help take the edge off.
No, thank you. The edge is what keeps me alive.
[sighs]
Can I have that prescription?
Why?
He's my roommate.
I'm not crazy.
I don't think you are.
Thank you.
You do spread it, though.
In the village where I was born,
if someone went crazy,
people thought he was full of demons,
and they would chain him to the wall of a shrine.
Okay. Well, it's not like that here.
Our crazy people get reality shows.
And what would people think if I saw a psychologist?
No one will allow me to marry their daughter.
Look, man, I get it. All right?
I spent years refusing to see a psychologist.
But I go because it's supposed to help,
and he lets me smoke cigars.
And there are plenty of other reasons I could be fainting.
I could have brain cancer, blood cancer, thyroid cancer.
Have you been googling "cancers that cause fainting"?
Doesn't make it not true.
Okay.
For my elective, I'm thinking either band or drama.
With band you get to wear a uniform and march.
Ooh, I like both of those.
When I was your age, I took drama.
Loved it.
I was in one play where I had to make out
with a guy on stage.
Okay, band it is.
ART: Oh, hey, Al, what do you think?
Should Hazel take band or drama?
She should become a doctor.
It's an elective. She's got to pick one.
What's an elective?
They're not your main classes.
They're just things you take for fun.
We don't take nonsense classes in Afghanistan.
We study things that are important.
They are important.
That's how you discover your passion,
by trying different things,
like photography or learning to dance.
You're just proving my point.
I think I'm gonna stick with band.
Maybe snare drum or cymbals.
Just make me one promise.
Practice at your mom's house.
I get that.
So...
I spent some time reflecting,
getting my affairs in order.
What are you talking about?
What did the doctor say?He's a quack.
According to the Internet, I have a brain tumor.
You don't have a brain tumor.
Did you go to medical school?
Did your phone?
I wrote you each a personal letter,
but I would prefer that you not open them
until I am gone.
"I scratched the left rear bumper on your truck.
Please forgive me." That was you?
Yes, it's important that I go to the afterlife
as unburdened as possible.
You blamed it on Lizzie.
"I told Riley you scratched the left rear bumper
on his truck, please forgive me."
Yes. This is why I asked you not to read them now.
Mine just has six bucks in it.
Yes, Mr. Art.
I took an extra long lunch break last week.
I had planned to make it up,
but who knows if I will have the time.
Well, all right.
You know what's wrong with you. You just don't like it.
There is no such thing as a panic attack.
Panic is an emotion. No one has a happiness attack.
I just got six bucks. I'm having one right now.
Panic attacks are real.
It's your body reacting
to the stress your mind is going through.
My mind is not stressed.
If stress makes you pass out,
all of Afghanistan would be in a coma.
[sighs]
Unbelievable.
He'd rather be dying of make-believe cancer
than see a therapist.
Remind you of anyone?
Not really.
His head was in your mother's birth canal for a long time.
[exhales sharply]
[grunting softly]
What?
Nothing.
You're looking at me like you want to say something.
No, I'm not.
Fine.
Hey, Riley.
What?
You're in therapy, right?
Is it like the movies?
Do you lie on a couch?
Do you, do you get hypnotized?
No, you sit in a chair.
And I don't think I've been hypnotized,
but maybe I was and don't know it.
S-So, what actually happens?
[sighs]
Well, the guy just asks questions.
And he sits there waiting for me to answer.
What kinds of questions?
He wants to know how I feel about stuff.
And what do you tell him?
The truth. I have no idea.
Back home,
if something is weighing on you... Hmm.
...you pour your heart out to a close friend or family member.
Then,
there's the expectation
that they would share their secrets with you.
We even have a word for it.
Is it "blackmail?"
No, it's "hamraaz,"
which means somebody that you trust and they trust you.
Well, you can do that with me.
Let's hamraazright now.
It's not a verb.
Okay, well, how do I do it?
Tell me something you never told anyone.
Okay, I know that you've been using my shampoo.
No, something meaningful about you.
Oh, come on.
Don't make me use your conditioner.
[sighs]
All right. Okay.
You know those airline commercials
where families are reunited
after being apart for a long time?
Yes.
I always have to leave the room.
Why?
I don't know.
I get a little teary-eyed.
I assumed you were going to pee.
Sometimes I do both.
Riley, I...
I had no idea you were so sensitive.
Forget it. Hamraazis over.
Riley,
um...
have you ever seen that battery commercial
where the soldier records a message inside a teddy bear
for his little girl back home?
No.
[voice breaking]: And it sounds dumb.
You going to cry?
I'm going to pee!
What are you doing up so late?
Couldn't sleep.
Mm. Me, neither.
I had a bad dream.
My teeth were made of Captain Crunch,
and they would break each time I chewed.
How about you?
I keep thinking about Afghanistan.
I really wish I'd asked you
before I told you my stupid dream.
Why now, Lizzie?
My whole life has been full of chaos.
Why would I be having these so-called panic attacks now?
Maybe 'cause you're safe enough now
to deal with what you went through.
Hmm.
Do you ever...
you know, talk about what it was like living under the Taliban?
Not really.
But I think about it all the time.
Once, um... [clears throat]
...when I was very young,
I was playing soccer outside during prayer time,
and a group of Taliban arrived, and...
...they started beating me and my friends.
One of them hit me with the butt of his Kalashnikov.
He broke four of my fingers.
Oh, my God.
My friend Kamal got it worse.
They beat him so bad...
we had to carry him home to his parents.
After that, his family fled to Iran.
I spent six years with the Marines
so that my nieces and nephews would not have to live
in that kind of violence.
But now...
[breathing shakily]
Hey, hey.
Okay.
Um, deep breath.[hyperventilating]
[takes deep breath] Hold it.
Slow out. Slow it down. [exhales slowly]
[gasping]
[exhales]
I'm okay. I'm okay.
[gasps softly]
Any time you want to talk, I'm here.
Would you mind if I had some privacy?
I want to lay my bare belly on the cement.
[whoops] Not bad.
Thought about playing basketball in school?
I've thought about everything.
Oh, yeah?
What you gonna eat the first day?
PB and J, don't waste my time.
I'm thinking the smart play is
to work on the yearbook.
You want to be in the first 30 pages,
you got to kiss the ring.
Can I ask you something?Sure.
What are you scared of?
I'm not scared of anything.
You're going into junior high,
but you talk like you're trying to take over
the heroin trade in Brooklyn.
Kids can be mean, Grampy.
Oh, sweetie, I know.
How would you know?
I was the mean kid.
I don't believe you.
[grunts]
[chuckles]: Hey.
I'm counting on you to break the cycle.
You okay?
Yeah, yes. Mm-hmm.
I was just enjoying the luxury of my Japanese sports car.
Mind if I join you?
Sure.[door opens]
I just spoke to my mother.
She okay?
Yes.
Remember I was telling you about my friend Kamal?
She said his family didn't move away.
Apparently, I, um...
Apparently, I...
I saw their car explode,
and they all died.
Oh, God.
I was so sure they moved away.
[sighs]
I read somewhere that when memories are too traumatic,
your brain can repress them.
But I remember so many horrible things.
Why wouldn't I remember Kamal?
I don't know, maybe because you two were close.
Look at me, Lizzie.
I'm not a big guy.
I'm not rich. I'm not the son of some important person.
The only thing that has allowed me to endure
these terrible years is my brain.
And now I'm losing it. Do you think I am losing it?
Of course not.
I may never be able to go back home.
Am I going to forget everything?No.
My guess is we just block out the bad stuff, you know.
Not the good stuff.
But how do we know? How do we really know?
Either I can't trust my mother,
or I can't trust my own thoughts.
I cannot live like this.
Al, maybe it's time you go talk to someone.
I'm talking to you, Lizzie, right now.
I meant a professional.[groans]
You're dealing with some heavy stuff,
and I don't want to say the wrong thing
or give you bad advice.
I'm so sorry that I am burdening you
with all of this heavy stuff.
No, you're not burdening.
This is why Americans are so sad and lonely
and need to pay people to listen to their problems,
because you don't help each other!
No, this is how I'm trying to take care of you.
Well, it's not working.
[sighs]
SPORTSCASTER [on TV]: ...we're on the bottom half of the fifth inning.
Two on and nobody out.
[TV chatter continues indistinctly]
Hello.
Hey, where you been?
Took a walk.
I see you are watching baseball.
Yep.
Nothing is happening.
That's baseball.
[sighs]
I'm listening.
I am very frustrated with your son and daughter.
[scoffs] You familiar with the phrase
"preaching to the choir?"
I try to have a serious conversation with them,
and they just say, "Go to a therapist."
What would you rather they said?
That the doctor was wrong,
that my brain is damaged,
and that is why I'm losing my memories.
So, what are you talking to me for?
I want to know what you think.
Because I'm the elder?
Yes.
[chuckles] I love that.
Hey, Al.
There's no harm in trying to figure out
what makes you tick.
I-I'm sorry, tick?
All right.
Let's say, you have this, uh, weird cousin
who's afraid of dogs.
Okay.
She goes to this psychology guy,
and he helps her remember that when she was a little kid,
she got bit by the neighbors' dog.
And boom-- [clicks tongue]-- just like that,
she's not afraid of dogs anymore.
She tells everybody.
She never stops talking about it.
Makes you want to bite her.
It just doesn't make sense to me.
H-How can a thought in my mind
affect my body so much that I pass out?
I don't know, Al.
I can tell you, when...
when my wife died, I went to see somebody.
Did it help?
Are you kidding? Look at me.
The picture of mental health.
I'm just saying you should look into it.
Maybe read a book before you decide.
A book will change my mind?
Moneyballchanged baseball forever.
That's why no one swings
at pitches anymore.
Okay.
I will think about it.
Thank you.
It's what elders do.
Here comes the lightning player from down under.
[chatter on TV continues indistinctly]
Here's the pitch.
Still nothing happening.
Yeah, it's a good game.
Oh. I was just looking for you.
And here I am.
What are you drawing?
Self-portrait.
Huh. Lovely.
Thanks.
Lizzie, uh...
I wanted to tell you that I am sorry about earlier.
You were just trying to help.
Don't worry about it.
And...
I have decided that one of my electives
in community college will be psychology.
Really? Yes.
I think I should withhold judgment
on this stupid therapy thing
until I have studied it more closely.
Good to keep an open mind.
Yes. I figure by Thanksgiving,
I will have either disproved psychology or mastered it.
For me, "Introduction to Psychology"
will be a conclusion to psychology.
A solid plan.
Hmm.
And if I do master it,
you and I should talk.
So, Hazel, how was your first day?
Yeah, was it as scary as you thought?
Worse. I didn't know anybody.
Couldn't open my locker.
Didn't know where to sit in the cafeteria.
Oh, that sucks.
But then I made a friend.
Well, there you go.
Yeah, her name's Violet.
Oh, that's a pretty name.
She's in eighth grade for the second time.
Well, practice makes perfect.
Is she a nice person?
No idea.
But she's huge, everyone's afraid of her.
Walking behind her in the hallway
was like walking behind a snowplow.
Everybody just got out of the way.
It was awesome.
Well, I'm glad you made a friend.
Me, too.
Oh, from now on, I have to bring two lunches to school.
Tomorrow, we'd like turkey.
Captioning sponsored by CBS
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org