Steve the Saz – August 26, 2011 – September 30, 2011
My dearest Steve,
We hardly knew you. And we certainly never heard you.
With a spin on my toes as I was pointed the way to the correct car of the train headed to Krakow, Poland (what would have been our eleventh city and sixth country together), with a slide down the sleeve of the puffy secondhand coat bought in Hungary, with a hollow thud I heard in my ears, felt in my stomach…
You were gone.
We had some rough times. You were fickle, stubborn, you were impossible to mail. Your strap plus my purse strap plus my backpack sometimes pinched a nerve that made me lose feeling in my arm. You made me mad at times (and you know how I look when I get mad).
But we had some great times, too.
For the original intentions of buying you, your loss is sad, but tolerable. You have 1,000 twins online with free and immediate shipping I could choose to send home (though out of respect for you and my wallet, you won’t be replaced immediately), plus you were laminated and I’m pretty sure one step above decorative.
But what a conversation starter, Steve, for someone so quiet. You started new friendships with ease and made existing ones stronger. You were worth every Turkish lira.
I already miss you. Even though I haven’t quite figured out where to dispose of you.
But you’re in a better place, and thankfully, I didn’t have to pay the obscene postage it’d take to send you there.
As the receptionist said on the last night of your life as I picked you up from the front desk (your rear never could fit in any locker):
If so moved, condolence messages may be left below. In lieu of flowers, donations to “Bucks For Bağlamas” or “Cents for a Saz, It’s a Very Good Cause, and Tax-Deductible, Too” can be sent to my attention. I’d leave an address, but no one is actually going to send those.
Also accepted, Christmas ideas for a friend not getting a saz.