CHAPTER NINETEEN
When I wasn’t shooting baskets all by myself at Sonora High, I would take long walks through downtown Sonora, trying to get myself a job at every restaurant I passed but never having any luck. Sometimes I would speak to a manager, sometimes I would just drop off an application, but the result was always the same — nothing. Fortunately, I had Barbara and Peggy and even Eddie supporting and encouraging me and helping me keep my spirits up.
There was a place called the Coffee House on the corner, toward the end of Sonora’s main street, which was called South Washington. It was situated across from a small park and was a spot where many young people would hang out, writing in journals. The Coffee House had what they called a journal book in the back patio area, which patrons were welcome to write in. When I wasn’t hanging out at Strawberry Records looking at vinyl and CDs or looking at all the neat things at stores such as Benjamin Fig, I would spend time at the Coffee House. I remember writing a few poems there, and I always found it fascinating to read other people's writings and look at the artwork they had drawn. (This was what people did before the Internet had really taken off and long before social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter arrived.)
One day, when I was at the Coffee House, I met a girl named Charity. She was friendly and kind, and she was curious about what had brought a young foreign guy with a heavy accent to this small town. She invited me to go to Peaceful Valley Church with her. I had no transportation of my own, so she agreed to pick me up. Little did I know, meeting Charity would bring an end to my boring and lonely days in Sonora.
There were a few churches in Izmir where I grew up. Although I had walked by the Catholic church, St. Helena, which was built in 1904 in Karsiyaka, many times as a kid, I had never been inside. This was my first time inside an American Christian church, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Just like its name promised, it was a very peaceful environment, with wonderful people attending. Charity had a large group of friends, all around my age. She introduced me to them, and everyone was welcoming and openhearted. She also invited me over to her house for dinner, where I met her parents. They were great people, too.
I attended Peaceful Valley Church on most Wednesdays and almost every Sunday, for the next fifteen months or so. Initially Charity, and later mostly Shannon and Kimm, picked me up and gave me rides until I had my own transportation. I felt very grateful that I finally had a good, tight-knit group of friends around my age to do things with. Many of us had similar tastes in music and I became a lot more familiar with the songs of the Eagles and the Steve Miller Band.
When we weren't praying, we were playing team sports or board games or jumping on a trampoline. My church friends lifted me out of my depression and boredom, taking me back to a place of joy, fun, and gratitude for a while. Their names were Kimm, Jerad, Eric, Shannon, Melissa (Shannon’s younger sister), Charity, Lisa, and a few others. I will never forget the support they, along with their families, gave me.
Shannon introduced me to her father, Jim, her mother, Rebecca, and Melissa. I remember Jim as a strong-charactered, stand-up guy, and Rebecca was as kind as a human being can be. Many years later, Jim and Rebecca would visit me in Fresno as they were passing through town. I would find out that Jim enjoyed poetry and writing like myself, and Rebecca was still as sweet as always, just like when I met her in the early ’90s. They only stayed for a couple of hours, but it was great to see them, as they were still the same amazing people I remembered.
Not long ago I heard the sad news that Shannon’s younger sister Melissa had passed away. I clearly remember the first day I met her; Shannon brought me to their house in Soulsbyville in her green Jeep Wrangler and introduced me to them all. I had not seen Melissa ever since our church days in Sonora. I sent them my condolences, as I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like for them to lose a loved one, a daughter, a sister at such a young age.
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