No, Not that Turkey
From November 23, 2015
Unless the rows of canned pumpkin or the thousand ways to baste a turkey on Pinterest have escaped your attention, you know that Thanksgiving is coming--soon.
Before you begin salivating as you picture glossy green beans and perfectly baked pumpkin pie, I want to talk about Turkey. No not that turkey.
During my year abroad in 1995, two of my friends and I decided to go to Turkey during our vacation. The choice of country was purely based on the procurement of cheap airline tickets. At the time, I didn't know anything about Turkey. During my stay, I learned a bit about their culture and traditions and after visiting several small towns, I learned more about the people. My greatest lesson learned, however, was during that first cab ride from the airport to our hotel.
Speaking no English, the driver patiently listened to our enunciations of the hotel's name as he watched our wild gesticulations as we tried to make our point clear. Nodding, he wheeled out of the parking lot; our heads knocked against the back of the seats. Soon roads, narrow and without safety guards, ascending steeply. He swerved wildly around the bends at an unsettling speed. Looking out the window I could see that all that lay between sudden death and us was his unaccounted for skill and some gravel.
After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, the driver pulled onto a beach; it was desolate and very dark. He shut off the car. He said nothing. He reached into his glove box and pulled out something, which he quickly slipped into his pocket.
He then motioned for us to get out. Afraid, I slowly opened the car door and stepped onto the mushy sand. I was certain at this point that he was going to kill us all, execution-style. Getting out of the car, he stood before us as I waited for him to pull his imagined handgun from his pocket and shoot us. Instead, he again gestured for us to follow him.
We walked a few yards to a bench. He pointed. We sat. He walked away. Saying nothing, we waited. Soon he came back holding four small ice-cream cones. He handed one to each of us then sat down. My friends and I exchanged confused looks. He smiled. Side by side, in silence, we ate our ice cream
It is often our perception that shapes our opinions. Consequently our measurement of another is limited to our own scope. It's only when we expand our capacity to appreciate another that we have the opportunity to reach a common understanding.
In awe of a stranger's kind gesture, I don't know how long we sat. It was long enough for me to no longer be afraid. It was also long enough for me to realize that despite all our differences, we were fundamentally the same. Regardless of our age, religion, culture or language, we all feel. Emotion is the essential element that bonds each of us together. Be it the fear of the unknown or the happiness of eating ice cream.
It is not only an important life lesson; it is an important lesson for writers. When creating characters, the first step before trying on a new color or culture or gender is to imbue those characters with the vital element of humanity--emotion.
It's only when readers can empathize with the characters that their perception shifts and in doing so, their capacity to understand increases as does their willingness to accept. It is in this way that we each learn what a stranger taught me with the kind and simple gift of an ice cream cone--we are equal in our hearts even when we perceive ourselves to be different in every other way.
I am grateful for having learned this lesson for my hope is that it has not only made me a better writer but also a better person.
Unless the rows of canned pumpkin or the thousand ways to baste a turkey on Pinterest have escaped your attention, you know that Thanksgiving is coming--soon.
Before you begin salivating as you picture glossy green beans and perfectly baked pumpkin pie, I want to talk about Turkey. No not that turkey.
During my year abroad in 1995, two of my friends and I decided to go to Turkey during our vacation. The choice of country was purely based on the procurement of cheap airline tickets. At the time, I didn't know anything about Turkey. During my stay, I learned a bit about their culture and traditions and after visiting several small towns, I learned more about the people. My greatest lesson learned, however, was during that first cab ride from the airport to our hotel.
Speaking no English, the driver patiently listened to our enunciations of the hotel's name as he watched our wild gesticulations as we tried to make our point clear. Nodding, he wheeled out of the parking lot; our heads knocked against the back of the seats. Soon roads, narrow and without safety guards, ascending steeply. He swerved wildly around the bends at an unsettling speed. Looking out the window I could see that all that lay between sudden death and us was his unaccounted for skill and some gravel.
After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, the driver pulled onto a beach; it was desolate and very dark. He shut off the car. He said nothing. He reached into his glove box and pulled out something, which he quickly slipped into his pocket.
He then motioned for us to get out. Afraid, I slowly opened the car door and stepped onto the mushy sand. I was certain at this point that he was going to kill us all, execution-style. Getting out of the car, he stood before us as I waited for him to pull his imagined handgun from his pocket and shoot us. Instead, he again gestured for us to follow him.
We walked a few yards to a bench. He pointed. We sat. He walked away. Saying nothing, we waited. Soon he came back holding four small ice-cream cones. He handed one to each of us then sat down. My friends and I exchanged confused looks. He smiled. Side by side, in silence, we ate our ice cream
It is often our perception that shapes our opinions. Consequently our measurement of another is limited to our own scope. It's only when we expand our capacity to appreciate another that we have the opportunity to reach a common understanding.
In awe of a stranger's kind gesture, I don't know how long we sat. It was long enough for me to no longer be afraid. It was also long enough for me to realize that despite all our differences, we were fundamentally the same. Regardless of our age, religion, culture or language, we all feel. Emotion is the essential element that bonds each of us together. Be it the fear of the unknown or the happiness of eating ice cream.
It is not only an important life lesson; it is an important lesson for writers. When creating characters, the first step before trying on a new color or culture or gender is to imbue those characters with the vital element of humanity--emotion.
It's only when readers can empathize with the characters that their perception shifts and in doing so, their capacity to understand increases as does their willingness to accept. It is in this way that we each learn what a stranger taught me with the kind and simple gift of an ice cream cone--we are equal in our hearts even when we perceive ourselves to be different in every other way.
I am grateful for having learned this lesson for my hope is that it has not only made me a better writer but also a better person.
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