Phillip and Rebecca Mefford

On one special holiday the ladies in the neighborhood came to the local türbe, tomb of a holy man, and hang their wishes/prayers on surrounding trees. One of my (Rebecca) closest friends is another stay-at-home-mom that lives in our neighborhood. It is an unlikely friendship-- she is poor, I am not; she has no more than a middle school education, I am a college graduate; she is from the village, I am from the city. Her accent is so thick I barely understand anything she says. But our children, close in age, play well together and we both have time to get together. My new friend has taught me a whole new level of generosity. She may not have much to her name, but she loves to share what she has. She often comes over with a pot of sarma , stuffed grape leaves, or homemade pickles or nohut , cooked chick-peas. She has learned her way all around our kitchen and whips up tasty Turkish dinners and sometimes does the dishes too. I have become Rebecca Teyze , Auntie Rebecca, to her chil

Lincoln and Hudson snacking on the train, one of our summer-time adventures when we were visiting Grandpa and Grandma. Summer has ended. The travels, the weekdays that run into weekends as if each day were the same, the seasonally warm weather. It is good to be settling back into the rhythm that the school year brings. Phillip has received his class schedule and will begin teaching speaking and conversation classes to a couple hundred new university students doing a year of preparatory English before going on to their departments. Lincoln’s preschool continues with cutting and pasting activities, playing in the garden, snack time, and all other preschool fun. Rebecca has been taking classes to become a Kindermusik instructor and hopes to complete her practicum in the next month or two. Hudson happily spends his days playing and developing his ever-increasing vocabulary. Baby girl Mefford is kicking and growing. And life goes on in our home, Isparta!

Ultrasounds are routine at every doctor visit, so we've gotten to see baby several times already. One of Hudson’s favorite words to say is abi, big brother. He loves his big brother, and Lincoln is getting pretty good at being one. In fact, he’s going to have to show Hudson the ropes of big-brotherhood because soon Hudson is going to be an abi too! Rebecca over half way through pregnancy with a little baby girl, and thankfully all is going well. Ultrasounds show she is developing well, little kicks indicate she’s happy in the womb for now. Hudson, of course, is pretty oblivious to Mommy’s burgeoning belly, but Lincoln is aware that a little baby sister (who he has named “Mader”) will be appearing right around his birthday at the end of the year. One day he patted Rebecca’s belly and asked very sincerely, “Is Mader naked in there, or does she have clothes on?” That day Grandma gave a baby present of two little outfits, after which Lincoln assured Mader, “Don’t worry, we have cl

Phillip's morning hikes with our neighbor offer a good view of our neighborhood. Hospitality and hosting are a big part of Turkish culture. Because of this the main avenue for making friends is going over, or inviting them to come over, for tea and conversation. Now, we know we are making gender generalizations here, but for women this is a wonderful way to connect—chatting, hot beverages, sweets. For men…at least American men…at least Phillip, this is a nice but less than bonding experience, to be honest. Which is why it was such a relief to be invited on the morning hikes that one of our neighbor and his buddies go on once or twice a week. Sports and being outdoors bring about conversation in a way that is more natural, less formal. It is literally and socially a breath of fresh air.

When you step into a Turkish home you may notice books perched on the top of a bookshelf or china hutch. Though this may seem like a curious placement; it does not merely indicate absentmindedness. According to their beliefs, these are holy books that deserve the highest place in the house. Religious scriptures are regarded with great respect, never placed on the floor, and usually require ritual washing before handling. In Islam the only valid versions of the Kuran are in Arabic. Despite restrictions on learning and speaking Arabic early on in the Turkish Republic (an attempt to modernize and Westernize), people have always-- secretly then, and more freely now-- made a point of learning enough Arabic to sound out the letters and words of the Kuran . Though distasteful to some more strict adherents, many Turks also read a parallel version with a Turkish explanation of what is being said. Reading the original Arabic, even if the content is not understood is consider