Boston to Beirut: Friends, Family Wait and Worry

July 16, 2006 — -- When horrible things happen someplace far away, it is easy to pause for a moment, shake your head and say "that's awful" before returning to your safe, comfortable life -- even if you work in the news industry like I do, as a producer for ABCNEWS.com.

I do not enjoy that luxury with the situation in Lebanon and Israel. One of my closest friends is caught in the middle of the violence.

"It's been an emotional couple days. [It's] a bit strange when you are in a country that comes under attack," wrote my friend, George Awde, who grew up with me in Westwood, Mass., but has lived in Beirut for nearly two years, working as a photographer.

George, whose parents were born in Lebanon, sent an e-mail to friends and family entitled, "Yes We're OK" on Friday, July 14, two days after the Israel began bombing Beirut -- an assault in response to the kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers by Hezbollah, a militant Islamic group in Lebanon that holds seats in the nation's parliament.

But the next day, as Israel stepped up attacks on the city, George told me the air strikes were coming dangerously close to the apartment he shares with his friend, Jared McCormick, who just received his master's degree in Middle East studies from American Univeristy of Beirut.

"We live but two blocks from the lighthouse that was bombed. It was a small missile that grazed it, but it was thought that this part of the city was safe," he said. "We look out on it from our windows."

Most of the bombing happens away from George and Jared's neighborhood, and they said they have not seen any of the destruction. But they can tell it's not too far away.

"You can feel it," George told me on Sunday -- just 10 minutes after he said he heard a bomb go off. "Especially the ships when they shoot. The house shakes. We wake up in the middle of the night to a lot of bombing. We hear and feel the helicopters … like a machine gun. We see a lot of people sleeping in their cars … displaced people sleeping in public schools."

"We have it good," Jared told me.

George also told me that he is afraid of running out of bottled water. He said Lebanese tap water isn't potable, and that traffic on the city's main road has virtually disappeared.

George's parents, who are Greek Orthodox, immigrated to the Boston area right before the Lebanese civil war. In 2004, after graduating from the Massachusetts College of Art, George moved to the Middle East to make art depicting life there. He wants Americans to see that Arabs live, love and suffer -- just like we do.

In Beirut, George has been working on a photo book funded by the European Commission. He taught art in Beirut for a year and also does graphic design for several nonprofit groups, including a women's rights club and Habitat for Humanity, Lebanon.