Free as a bird

CHAPTER FOUR

Because I was an only child, my cousin Gul was like a sister to me. Her mom, Saime, was my mom’s older sister, and Gul was two years older than me. My aunt and Gul’s father Merih had gotten divorced when my cousin was little. I remember meeting him a couple of times when I was little and him giving me and Gul small toys. My aunt Saime’s second husband, my uncle Osman, was a loving stepfather and a welcome addition to the family in the late ’70s.

Streets in Izmir were identified by numbers, and apartments had both a number and a name assigned to them. In the early ’80s, Gul lived on the same street as us, at the end of 1699 sokak, and a couple of years later they moved to a street behind us, 1696 sokak. My grandmother raised me until I was a teenager, and for a couple of years she watched over both me and my cousin. Gul and I hung out almost every day playing games, listening to music, going to Karsiyaka basketball games, or riding our bicycles and playing on the streets with the neighborhood kids. Our childhood and teen years were filled with a lot of good music and movies, both Turkish and international.

Uncle Osman was a fun, tall and athletic guy, who enjoyed listening to music, particularly the Beatles and the Moody Blues. He was a fan of Western movies, too, especially those that starred Clint Eastwood, Yul Brynner, and Charles Bronson. His interest in culture and entertainment helped me discover many good songs and movies.

Osman used to take us on picnics and summer vacations in his navy-blue Renault. I remember well the feeling of excitement as we gathered up our towels and swimsuits and got ready to hop in the car to drive to resort towns like Kusadasi, Bodrum, and Gumuldur.

Osman also loved fishing and occasionally hunting. He took me fishing with him many times, which often required me to get up at 5:30 in the morning. I was always eager to show off for him, finishing everything on my plate when we ate dinner at their apartment and trying in other ways to show that I was growing older. He would tease me affectionately, saying that there was no way I would get my butt off the bed to go fishing. But I was eager to surprise him and make him proud of me, and the next morning, when he tapped me on the shoulder before sunrise, I would get up right away and go wash my face to wake up.

There was something very pure about my childhood. Every new experience brought excitement and happiness, without all the worries of adulthood that I would eventually come to know. As Ronnie Van Zant once said while fishing, I think deep down inside we all want to be a free bird.

When you are a child, you have adults all around you who provide security. As an adult, especially once you have children of your own, it is easy to feel alone, scared, uncertain, and weighed down by the responsibilities that rest on your shoulders, but I didn’t know any of that then. To me, the future seemed full of limitless possibilities, despite my family having very little money.

When my aunt had another child in 1981, he became like my little brother. I loved Sercan so much that I spent most of the small weekly allowance that I received from my mom and dad on toys and presents for him. When I arrived at his house, I would act as if I had only one present for him, but I would keep pulling out more, one after another, enjoying his mounting excitement. One of our favorites was a red rubber octopus; when you threw it at a window, it would stick to the glass and slowly slump and rotate its way down the sheer surface, which we loved. I think my dreams and imagination — and my jokes and goofing around — helped him to see all the possibilities that the universe has to offer.

Karsiyaka was full of amazing, free-spirited people in those days. We were surrounded by people who were hungry for knowledge and discovery. People were interested in a wide variety of things and shared their discoveries with each other. A new Dire Straits, U2, Phil Collins or Paul McCartney album from a school friend, or a cool movie that somebody had just watched such as An American Werewolf in London, was soon shared among all of us. To this day I am very proud of the universal upbringing I was fortunate to have, which had a big impact on how I view the world today, as a “citizen of the world.”

I have vivid memories of my grandmother listening to her old radio every day. We had an old black-and-white TV until around 1983. We were all very excited when my mom was able to get a Sanyo color TV, which she had to make monthly payments for. We only had two channels in those days, but now at least we could watch them in color.

The youngest of my mother’s siblings was a brother, who was in his early twenties when I was a child. He had many rough times and, looking back, I can only imagine what it must have been like for him to lose his father (my grandfather, whom I never met) when he was only seven years old.

He spent his younger years competing in traditional dancing called folklore, representing Turkey across Europe and earning spots in world championships. He also had a talent for graphic design, though he stopped pursuing it after high school.

For a period of time in the early ’80s my grandmother, my mom, her younger brother, and I all lived together at Elver apartment. My uncle was in his early to mid-twenties, and I have a few memories of him bringing his friends over; when they had money, they would drink beer or raki while listening to songs by the Turkish singers Sezen Aksu, Ajda Pekkan, Baris Manco, Erol Evgin and Umit Besen; the Australian band Men at Work; the Italian singer Toto Cutugno; and the French singers Édith Piaf, Joe Dassin and Mireille Mathieu. We had two bedrooms in our apartment, and I slept in the same room with my mom for some time. My uncle’s room was very small and dark, around eight-by-six-feet from what I remember. He had a poster of Filiz Akin, a famous Turkish actress, on the wall without a frame. In some ways, I find some of my childhood memories somewhat depressing, because we lived in difficult conditions.

Although my younger uncle grew up without a father figure and spent many years unemployed and trying to find his way in the world, he grew into a charismatic man, perhaps because of the many challenges he had faced and overcome. My mother was there for him every step of the way, and I think he would likely have gotten himself into even bigger trouble than he did without her support. Today he is married to a wonderful woman and has a son who has outdone him academically, graduating college. He has much to be proud of.

I have some memories of the family of my other uncle, who got married and moved out of my grandmother’s house when he was young. He had two daughters. I remember all of the cousins getting together and playing, especially during holidays. I have many good memories of his wife’s family when I was a child.

When I was around fourteen, my mom and I got our own place, and from then on it was just the two of us living together. Like my father, my mom was an avid reader, and we had a small library of books at our apartment. Many of these books still stare at me from the shelves. I recall reading many fairy tales, as well as The Jungle Book and Robin Hood; all these books implanted life lessons in my young mind.

I had to be around fourteen when I read my first adult book, Albert Camus’s The Stranger, followed by John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men. I also enjoyed reading Turkish novels, including Boyle Gelmis Boyle Gitmez (That’s How It Was but Not How It’s Going to Be, published in the US as Istanbul Boy) and Ah Biz Eşekler (translation: Oh, We Donkeys) by Aziz Nesin, and was deeply impressed by Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat at an early age. Reading La Fontaine’s Fables made up of mostly animal characters as a kid also helped me broaden my imagination.

My mother kept to herself after divorcing my father. Though she was an attractive, intelligent woman, I only remember her dating two men, as her main priority seemed to be raising me. She paid little attention to anything else around her, and to this day she frequently assures me that I am her “reason to live.” Even when I was living in the US, she did her best to take care of me from afar.