CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Right around the time I started working at Safeway, Barbara told me I had to move out of the small condo we shared with her friends. From what I can remember, it did get a bit crowded there at times. She tried to reassure me that it was a temporary situation and we would move in together again soon once our finances improved.
One of the cashiers at Safeway, a friendly African-American guy in his thirties named Dominic, said his friend was moving out soon and offered me a room and I moved into his house. Seaside, where he lived, was a mainly black neighborhood up in the hills. I soon realized that I was one of just a few white kids for blocks in every direction.
Dominic was a really nice guy. He loved reggae music and soon made me into a fan as well. He introduced me to many of his friends and neighbors, and we had a lot of fun in our time off work — we played basketball, watched movies, drove down to the beach, and went to reggae concerts in Santa Cruz and other nearby towns, where I got to see the band Inner Circle. I loved riding in his old Volkswagen Beetle, which he kept in meticulous shape. I will never forget how hard we laughed one night watching the movie We're No Angels — especially the scene where Sean Penn was reading a book secreted inside a Bible. I still laugh when I think of watching that scene with Dominic.
I loved Bob Marley before I met Dominic, but this was the period in my life when I really got into reggae. I was deeply moved by the meaning of many of his songs, as well as those by other artists such as Aswad, Lucky Dube, and Inner Circle. As a Christian with a strong personal faith, Dominic believed in the power of prayer and prayed with me and for me many times. He had a great soul and a good heart. I learned a lot from him, and I will never forget the support and kindness he showed me during some of my most difficult times in this country.
Since I didn’t have a car, I would catch a ride with Dominic when I could in his 1976 Volkswagen Beetle. I walked those streets between Dominic’s house and Safeway many times in those days, which had to be close to two miles. I honestly can’t remember what happened to my bike that I had bought at Kmart. One day, though, I spotted an ad for a red and black moped. While these buzzing machines were very popular back home, many of my fellow teens — and even some adults — couldn’t afford them, so the idea of owning one thrilled me.
I had been trying to save my money to buy a vehicle to get me around, so I went to look at it. The seller was asking $300, and he seemed trustworthy; after riding it for about fifty yards, I bought it. It wasn't very fast, but I thought it would at least get me around. Within a few weeks, though, it started to lose power. I worked from 3:00 PM to midnight at Safeway, and one night I got off work and the moped was completely dead. I had to push it all the way home, up the hills of Seaside. I took it to the local moped repair shop, where they told me the engine needed to be completely rebuilt. It was going to cost as much as what the moped was worth. I was deeply disappointed. I really needed a car, but with my $300 gone, it would take even longer to save now.
Some of my fellow Safeway coworkers and I sometimes hung out at the apartment of a Filipino guy named Chauncey after late shifts. We’d play Nintendo golf in the wee hours. He drove a really nice light blue lowered pickup truck. Another Filipino guy around my age named Roger also worked with us, and he and I became friends as well. He rode a fast, red Honda motorcycle and had a pregnant girlfriend. I went to some of his family gatherings and developed a real appreciation for Filipino food. I remember Roger as a very good-hearted, hospitable, and genuine guy.
Mike, a cashier at Safeway, lived in Salinas, a town about thirty minutes from Monterey. He invited me to his place a few times when he had get-togethers, which enabled me to meet even more new people and continue practicing my English. Mike also gave me some valuable advice regarding who to hang out with and who to avoid.
Another bagger around my age who became a friend was Aaron, who lived with his parents near the store and drove an old, yellow Volkswagen bug. I remember wishing that I had a normal family life in America like Aaron did. He was living a life here like the one I had lived back home. Another guy, Jerry, was always to be found stocking food in the produce department, and a cashier named Ann gave me many tips about my job and overall advice. These early friendships meant a lot to me. They all helped me escape my boredom and interact with people who taught me everything from traffic rules to California slang to how to survive on the streets and which places to stay away from.
There was a guy named Chuck who bagged groceries with me at Safeway. He drove an old, orange Corvette — a 1973 model, I believe. Chuck had a crush on a pretty cashier named Sandy. He was trying to date her, but I think she thought I was cute, or at least interesting.
Chuck, knowing my English was very limited, told me to repeat after him, in front of Sandy, “I’m an idiot.” Sandy got mad at him, and I knew immediately that I was being made fun of, though I didn’t find out until later what the word “idiot” meant.
My English was still pretty bad in those days, and I ran into language barriers quite often. If someone spoke too quickly, used a lot of slang, or used words I wasn’t familiar with, I struggled to understand them. I referred to my dictionary often in those days. It would take me nearly seven years to develop decent language skills and to be able to effectively communicate with others.
Chuck was a good guy; I liked him and didn’t hold the prank against him at the time, but thinking about it now, so many years later, remembering such incidents makes me wonder what it would have been like to be born here and have a normal American life. Obviously, everybody has their own unique challenges in life, but I know the challenges of being a Turkish immigrant in a new country, without a Turkish community to fall back on, were not among them.
Comments