Show Sometimes Frank Reed’s wife says to him ‘Don’t react to me like Fm a Today 7 guard’ months after his release in Beirut the ex-hosta- has no ge guards no beatings — blit also no job and no peace of mind His is a daily struggle for security t’s past 3 and Frank Reed’s son late getting home from Tarek school Concern clouds Reed’s face and anxiety creeps into his voice as he questions his wife Fifi: “Where would Tarek be? And why isn’t he home? Is this unusual?” A few minutes later Tarek shuffles in a sturdy freckle-face- d He’s been downstairs playing “Next time you come right home pal huh? OK?” Reed says sternly Children dawdling Parents fidgeting It’s an old story Nothing to worry about really Frank Reed kidBut napped by terrorists on his way to an afternoon golf game in Lebanon doesn’t take his son’s safety for granted He is ge doesn’t take anything for granted In some ways his story is the perfect holiday fable Frank Reed Former Hostage back in his boyhood town of Malden Mass celebrating his first Thanksgiving weekend with his wife and son after 44 months in captivity in West Beirut Savoring his freedom from a blindfold and chains at a time when hundreds of American “detainees” back from Kuwait and Iraq will be relishing their own release It seems to be an epic tale of homecoming a story to paint in shades of harvest gold and red But look closer and you see the shadows You see that for an being back isn’t the same as being home It’s more like halfway home ge Story by Mary Ellin Barrett 4 USA WEEKEND Novtmtxr 23-2- 5 1990 rank Reed and his family five in a furnished rental apartin Malment in a high-ris- e den just outside Boston The interior is clean and carpeted decorated in rose and beige soothing in an impersonal way like a waiting room Reed has lively blue eyes and a springy stride His manner is outgoing — firm handshake warm hello — and he’s wearing a new striped sports shirt with matching slacks It’s all new he explains because he’s had to starting over The leave everything in Beirut after he was kidnapped and Fifi and Tarek fled: his clothes his home his career as the founder and director of a private school for Lebanese children “I’m starting from scratch because all my property’s gone I say to people: "Walk into your house just look and anything you own I don’t own Look at an ashtray look at a lamp look at a table look at a plant I don’t have it Go into your bedroom open your drawers: I don’t have the shirts I don’t have the socks I don’t have the handkerchiefs I don’t have any of that stuff” Opposite the pink soft on a white wall is an oversized photograph of Reed taken on the day he was released — exhausted but exuberant sums raised in triumph Looking at it one imagines the life of an as euphoric a banquet of small pleasures But Reed doesn’t see it that way There was the initial high the sun- - Photographed by John Goodman |