Sorry, but I must submit you to some bad poetry (if you bother to continue reading...)
I am not the friendliest person (it has something to do with being introverted and choosy about people with which I associate). Thinking about the friends I have and those that I have known, I composed the below dodgy poem a few years ago. I recall learning about the rules of poetry in school, but have forgotten everything. Some of the lines rhyme...sort of. It's the message that is important. Believe it or not, this was written before anyone had thought of Facebook or social media. Perhaps, the sentiments are more apt than ever...
Some friends you keep forever;
Some friends you keep for a day;
Some friends are there when you need them;
Some friends just look the other way.
Some are friends when they need you;
Some are friends for no reason at all;
Some are friends ‘cause you fit together;
Some are friends at you beck and call.
Some friends may simply come and go;
But, a true friend is pleasant to have around
Some friends are not there when you need them;
But, a true friend will never let you down.
I frequently patronize a fruit and vegetable shop owned by a small Turk. He's one of the friendliest and nicest people I know. I consider him a friend. His face lights up each time I enter his shop and not because he knows that his daily turnover will soar.
He knows my likes and dislikes. He refuses to sell me bad quality, even if something is on display. He knows that I demand to know origins of anything I buy and is proud to source the best products. He will often lower the price, if I wince at the cost of some exotic fruit flown in from afar. If I mention dissatisfaction with something that I have previously bought (occasionally an avocado will be over-ripe), he is clearly pained. He does not charge for the next one or throws in one for free. He gives me only the freshest items from the his walk-in refrigerator, and not items available to the general public.
His reputation has spread far and wide. Customers drive long distances, passing other similar shops, to patronize his shop. It has nothing to do with race.
He knows that I am problably the only customer that has bothered to learn the history of his country and mentions current events, which I have spotted in my scan of daily headlines. He's proud to explain some events or pained by others. He's happy to live in Germany and grateful for the opportunity to make a good living, but is proud of his heritage. He pays back by offering good quality and friendly service (a lesson many German shops could learn).
He knows that I explained the significance of Gallipoli to his daughter, before her trip to Australia. She had grown up in Germany and has less connection to the country of her parents. It took an American to explain the unfortunate and enduring connection between Turkey and Australia to a girl that grew up in Germany.
He wants to show me his hometown, Istanbul, and I want to see it. I need a local guide to help me wander the vast Great Bazaar without getting lost, tempted, or ripped off. I also need a guide to show me the architectural magnificence of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia, formerly known as the Cathedral of St. Sophia (the Greeks and the Turks seem to have "issues" lasting several millennium). This has nothing to do with religion; both are testimony to man's creative genius and talent.
Cultural diversity makes my life more interesting. As much as I like Germany, I would not enjoy living in a town peopled by only one race or nationality. After all, variety is life...
Prior to writing novels, the author enjoyed a multifaceted career: from decorated combat aviator to advertising professional to global communications director of a major consumer brand. He has traveled the world and met sports, film and television stars, political leaders, and royalty. He graduated from Middlebury College, is married, lives in Germany, and has two grown children.