My first flight
I was 17 years old the first time I boarded
a plane. We had to fly in order to arrive
in time for my grandfather’s funeral.
Appropriating a major portion of my father’s
monthly salary from the state bank where
he worked as a clerk, my mother purchased
three tickets, one for me, one for my
father and one for herself. And they were
only one-way fares! Beside the loss of
his father-in-law, those tickets were
probably a source of considerable grief
to my poor father. But he had no choice
but to put down the money.
I don’t know what my mother might
have done otherwise!
I meanwhile was treated to a detailed
run-down of planes and flying by my mother’s
uncle, who, just the reverse of us, had
flown to Istanbul from Samsun for his
brother’s funeral. He was over sixty
and it was his first flight too. Like
us, he also had no choice. Nobody in our
family could afford to get on a plane
in those days anyway unless another family
member had died.