Joe Faissal, raconteur extraordinaire
Whenever I go oneon-one with Joe Faissal — and those special occasions don’t occur nearly enough — I can sense the gentle Mediterranean breeze whispering over our coffee cups. I drink in the scent of the Biblical cedars of Lebanon. The pines and cypresses that act as a comforting canopy in his native Lebanon. They call this part of the Middle East the “Levant,” which is French for “to rise.” (Note the word “lever” in there?) Along with Lebanon, the region describes present-day Israel, Syria and Jordan and certain other nearby areas that hug the ancient sea.
Joe, whose family owns Gold Market Diamond Jewelers in Longmont, is a raconteur extraordinaire. He skillfully peels back names and dates and tasty tidbits, shaping them into mental images that possess the right color, cut and clarity found in items like a diamond bold cathedral engagement ring. For a guy steeped in semi-retirement, I can’t think of a better investment of time on a weekday afternoon than by grabbing a front-row seat and letting Joe have the spotlight. On second thought, even if you work a demanding job and take a much-needed mental health day, I highly recommend spending it with Joe, orbiting around his light. Thomas Edison would love this guy.
Growing up in the sleepy village of Kfar Zabad, Joe knew the meaning of close family. He drops the names of uncles and aunts like “Mose” and “Barbara.” When some of them, he explained, immigrated to the U.S., to cities like Chicago and Indianapolis, “We were under political pressure in Lebanon by the Turks. Coming to America was the land of opportunity, exactly!”
Bidding farewell to his native land took energy.
“It wasn’t easy leaving my friends,” he said softly. “But I convinced myself I had to get an education.” He enrolled at Purdue as a math and physics major. “In the Middle East, I spoke French more than anything else. I love French. It’s very romantic. Learning English was the hardest part. You had to work hard to understand it.”
At Purdue, Joe lived in a dormitory. “I slept and ate in the dorm,” he said, that territorial spark still burning bright. “It was my place. I had nothing else.” During his first week on campus, Joe and a few friends went to a neighborhood bar for drinks. During a break, one of the two guitarists playing that night came over and shared a joke about smoking. Joe memorized it. “One Kool day, Miss Pall Mall was walking down the street with Mr. Marlboro.” The rest of the account is, um, best left to the imagination.
Still, it served its purpose. “This was how you learned English,” he emphasized. “I bought a pack of cigarettes for 25 cents. Pall Mall. I swear, now they’re $10!’
Earlier in our friendship, sitting in his kitchen alongside Cathy, his beloved wife of 63 years, Joe shared another story. In 1956, when he was all of 22 and not yet adept in English, he found himself sitting next to a superstar on a European flight. “It was Joan Crawford,” he recalled, referring to the late actress. At that moment, he scurried off into an upstairs bedroom, returning a minute later with a wellpreserved matchbox. “She gave this to me,” he added, striking a match that ignited a flame. “See, it still works, even after all these years.”
In sum, Joe Faissal wields the right stuff. Like a good shaving cream, his presence is rich and thick with insights that help soothe and restore weary souls. He is a solitary natural resource, richer and more multi-layered than that of the Centennial State itself.
“Back home, Joe grew up with Christians, Muslims and Jews. He never chose one over another. “I donated a piece of land I owned to the Muslims. They built a Mosque on it. I didn’t care who I was friends with. The Bible says “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
That’s Joe Faissal in a nutshell. The celebrated gemologist, himself a gem, wears it well. Next time we eat together, we’ll stack the table with Lebanese favorites like kibbeh, hummus and tahini.
The shine never fades.