Kerem

Have you ever heard of Kerem Yilmazer? Unless you are Turkish, you probably haven’t.

We met Kerem and his wife Goksel in Bodrum, Turkey in 1986. We were seated on a terrace at a restaurant. Rather than sitting facing each other, we sat looking at the people walking along the street, leaving two seats facing us.

Goksel and Kerem came looking to eat, but there was no more space, except the two seats at our table. I motioned for them to sit and they accepted my offer.

We found out that both of them spoke English fluently. Kerem had gone to high school in Los Angeles. Goksel had gone to Boston University. In fact, Faye Dunaway was her roommate when she was there.

The next few hours were spent in animated conversation. I was working for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in London, England. They were Turkish film stars. We swapped stories about our lives.

Kerem was sort of like a Charles Aznavour or Frank Sinatra of Turkey. He mixed acting with singing. Goksel was a comedienne. In the movie, Funny Girl starring Barbra Streisand, hers was the voice you heard in Turkish, except for the singing, of course.

They invited us to meet them at the beach the next day, which we accepted. We enjoyed each other’s company so much. This led to our getting together every day they were in the area.

I remember one time they came to our hotel to pick us up. We sat and chatted on the chairs in the lobby. A television set was broadcasting a program about a wealthy Turkish family that owned lots of land. It had a son, sort of like the J. R. figure in Dallas, who was gambling away the family fortune.

I noticed people in the lobby looking at the television, then looking at Kerem. Yes, he was the villain in the program. In real life he was anything but. He was a gentleman through and through.

While we were in Turkey, Goksel and Kerem had a wedding anniversary. We threw a surprise party at a restaurant for them, complete with a cake with Turkish words on it. They told us it said “Happy Anniversary”.

The day came when their vacation was over. We still had a few on ours. I remember going back to the restaurant where we met and feeling rather empty. In a short period of time, a close friendship had evolved.

For many years, we exchanged Christmas letters.

In 1999, we met again in London, England at a Turkish restaurant. The place was packed when we arrived. We were placed way in the back at a pretty bad table. As soon as a good one became available, the owner escorted us to the prime location. He knew who they were.

Our reunion was filled with joy and laughter. It was great meeting them again. We parted not knowing if we would see them again.

When we arrived back in Canada, Turkey had a major earthquake. We called them to find that they had spent three days sleeping in their car, but they were fine.

Then came the silence. Our Christmas letters were not reciprocated. We kept sending them. Regardless of whether they were writing, we kept on reaching out, never giving up hope of rekindling the friendship.

Today that day came. I was tooling around the internet when I thought of Goksel. I decided to put her name in Facebook and there she was. I sent her a message immediately and asked her to be a friend. The reply was almost immediate.

So was the news about Kerem. He had died in a terrorist bombing in Istanbul in on November 20, 2003 while sitting in his car at a red light.

As Goksel put it in her letter, she died that day, too. She keeps herself busy, but her special partner in life was taken from her. We feel the loss, too.

I have included some clips of Kerem and a photo. Yes, he was very handsome. Yes, he was a recording and film star in Turkey. But, yes, he was my friend. That is how I remember him.