Dad had transcribed part of a What Whitman poem that feels like a message to his friends and descendants: 

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

- Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself'

It has been two years since dad died. I'll leave this memory here so at least I don't forget it. 

Hasan retired from engineering in the 1990s, and he spent a few years building a house. People usually ask, "who is your architect" when they see it. It is beautifully nested in its spot on the edge of a steep hill. From inside, the windows frame views into nature. He chose yellow pine floors and trim, which makes it bright and sunny inside. Its always warm, because the walls are a foot thick. 

Hasan's birth certificate was obtained by his father one year after his birth. His father guessed the date: Oct 5, but his mother insisted Nov 1. 

December 30, 1965

Hasan was stationed in San Diego, and Betty traveled to meet him and get married in a civil court. Apparently the judge was drunk, in anticipation of New Year's Eve, and everyone was in a jolly mood. My father was just learning english. There is no "W" in the Turkish language, so it is hard for turks to pronounce this sound. So when Hasan was asked to repeat , "I take this woman to be my lawful-wedded wife", he accidentally said, "I take this woman to be my AWFUL wedded wife". The court erupted in laughter. Somehow this story made its way to Seattle because it was retold on the nightly television news. 

In 1999, Dad moved to Antalya, where he would stay for several very happy years. He loved going to the officer's club, hiking with friends in the 'mountain club', and spending time with his close friend Erdal.