Tom,

Below is Bill's latest response, and the edit.  They made very few changes.
How about that.

It strange to think that right now, as I write this, you are on the set at
WGN, in the middle of the news program, perhaps putting a few finishing
touches on your graphics.

Just as I got up a few minutes ago (I got up early, which is the best time
to get through to the line I share [and also because I'm excited[), and at
the exact time I turned on the computor there was a flash of lightening
outside.  Then, moments later, just as a healthy downpour began, the muezzin
started singing outside.  (This is true, no lie.)  I thought to myself I
hope there aren't any more cosmic coincidences (such as a ..., well you
know).

I'll be on line for a bit, so maybe we'll be able to "talk" on this thing
almost as if in person.

Love,

Mark

>From: <wparker@tribune.com>
>To: "Mark Skilling" <markskilling@hotmail.com>
>Subject: Editing, etc.
>Date: Thu, 26 Aug 1999 19:20:58 -0500
>
>Hi Mark,
>Below is an edited version of your piece. We've got a few questions, which
>I've
>indicated parenthetically through the story. Most of the editing is
>designed to
>tighten things a little. And we've reorganized some sentences to clarify
>meaning.
>This is an interesting moment in the writer/editor relationship and I
>regret
>that we're experiencing it in cyberspace. It's hard to show you each change
>and
>explain it, but hopefully they'll be more or less self-explanatory if you
>compare the edited version with a printout of the original story. In any
>case,
>be of good cheer; this is not an extraordinary amount of editing.
>I'd suggest that you answer our questions and raise any points about
>editing
>within the story, just as we have done, and then e-mail the whole story
>back.
>I'll try again to call you Friday.
>You'll see some strange characters in the text; they're our computer
>coding. You
>can safely ignore them.
>I did get through on the fax line and sent you both a contract and a tax
>form. I
>hope you got them.
>Hayirli isler,
>Bill
>
>By Mark Skilling
>ISTANBUL?From my living room, I look down a hill, over a collection of red
>tiled
>rooftops, to the Golden Horn. This river, once beautiful and fast flowing,
>is
>now stalled and polluted.  On the other side of the Golden Horn are the
>hills
>where the ancient city Byzantium?later to be called Constantinople, later
>still
>Istanbul?was founded some 2,500 years ago.  Above a cement-colored smear of
>apartment buildings of much more recent vintage, I can make out the
>outlines of
>towers that were part of defensive walls first started in the 6th Century.
>They
>are now rotten with age, though parts had recently been rebuilt for
>tourists.
>Some of these restored parts collapsed during last Tuesday's earthquake.
>The
>ancient parts were left unharmed.
>(We've deleted the following graf because its effect is compromised by the
>fact
>that we don't understand the language: Less than a block away is the
>minaret of
>our small, neighborhood mosque.  From here you can hear, five times a day,
>its
>"ezan" or call to prayer. That call is now as if a lament.  The muezzin's
>voice
>seems fuller, more emotional than usual.  He sings in Arabic, which I don't
>understand, but I've read that his call reminds the believers that "God is
>most
>great" and tells them to "Come to prayer, come to prosperity."  I listen
>carefully, for signs of doubt about God's mercy and compassion.  But I
>detect no
>doubt at all.  Instead, it is simply beautiful and sad, and despite not
>understanding what he sings, very moving.)
>In the last few days I have heard many sad, tired people say automatically,
>and
>surprisingly without bitterness, that ``Allah verir, Allah alir [God gives,
>God
>takes away].''  And much has been taken away.  The death toll from last
>Tuesday's earthquake is likely to exceed 40,000 (we'll make this number
>conform
>with the best and latest wire service reports we have as of Friday), with
>an
>equal number injured.  Up to 200,000 have been left homeless.  Millions
>afraid
>of the aftershocks, including me, chose to sleep outdoors.
>All over Istanbul, in the parks and squares, even on narrow medians between
>busy
>streets, entire families spent the days and nights on blankets spread out
>on the
>ground.  Usually, you would expect hundreds of tourists to be milling about
>in
>the grassy Hippodrome alongside the spectacular Blue Mosque and in the
>gardens
>between that mosque and the Hagia Sophia.But now it was as if a great
>migration
>were taking place.  Many of the women wore brightly colored headscarves.
>Other
>women, despite the heat, were dressed from head to toe in somber black.
>Some
>families brought portable propane burners to make their beloved tea.  Many
>more
>had lugged pillows and mattresses, others string and rope which they strung
>between trees and posts and used to hang sheets for a bit of privacy.
>On the nights immediately after the quake, I was grateful to receive an
>invitation to join my friend Ismail's family, to spend the night in a
>little
>park in the hills above the Bosphorus Bridge.  The Bosphorus Bridge is a
>huge,
>modern suspension bridge connecting Europe and Asia that looks like a gray
>version of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.  With the bridge's hulk
>looming seemingly helplessly (i don't understand, the bridge was helpless?
>it
>loomed helplessly?)  below us, I shared a corner of a colorful Turkish
>blanket
>covering the ground.  We drank tea, smoked cigarettes and joked about being
>?MDUL?gocebe?MDNM? [nomads], and about the Turks finally returning to their
>forgotten nomadic roots.  I practiced my Turkish with the children, who,
>unlike
>most adults, were able to correct me in English.  During the night, while I
>slept, someone put a jacket over me.
>A week or so later, the rains and cooler weather have come, and the experts
>have
>given an all-clear sign, most of us have returned to our homes.  Back in my
>apartment, I glance at my walls, at my ceilings, and find it impossible not
>to
>think of all those still buried underneath theirs.  Last night, at our
>favorite
>tea garden, I joined Ismail and his wife, Dilek, who had just learned that
>three
>of her cousins had died in Adapazari, a town that was leveled by the quake.
>  We
>talked about whether people here will ever be able to forget.  It hadn't
>started
>raining yet, so we stayed late, a bit nervous about returning home.
>The government, the army and construction contractors are being severely
>criticized in the local press and on the streets (for slowness,
>carelessness,
>greed?).  There have been other problems as well.  (we've deleted the
>following
>because this problem seems sort of trivial: In an open area near the caf? I
>mentioned above, where dozens of families had come to spend the night, an
>old
>man had his shoes stolen.)  I was told the story of a Turk in Yalova, one
>of the
>hardest hit areas, selling bottled water for 1.5 million TL (Turkish lira
>perhaps?)  ($4), 10 times the normal price. The  profiteer, however, was
>subsequently beaten by the storyteller himself, while a nearby police
>officer
>did nothing to intervene.
>Yet notwithstanding the official response, which has inspired widespread
>anger,
>the response of ordinary Turks has been overwhelming and impressive.  A
>large
>truck from my relatively poor, working class neighborhood was quickly
>filled
>with needed supplies -- water, bread, medicine -- and sent to one disaster
>site.
>  The company of one of my students sent along a similar truckload of
>supplies,
>and has now set up a fund to collect money for the homeless.   Efforts like
>these have been going on everywhere. Thousands of people from all over
>Turkey
>have gone to the stricken areas to help, including Kurds who want to prove
>their
>commitment to the Turkish State.
>I recall the criticism I heard after the 1989 San Francisco "World Series''
>Earthquake, which I unfortunately experienced as well.  Though admittedly a
>much
>less serious affair, the cries about lax enforcement of building codes were
>similar.  Everyone promised to do better, and I hope they have. (We deleted
>the
>following, which seemed a bit off point: I recall my own pathetic plans,
>never
>implemented, to prepare for the next "big one".  I had cut an article out
>of the
>paper, which listed the emergency supplies that should be kept close on
>hand.
>Though I kept that list near to the top of my pile of important papers,
>over the
>years it simply grew yellow and torn.  I finally threw it away at the time
>I
>packed up for my move to Istanbul.  Significantly, b) Before I left San
>Francisco last fall, damage from that quake was still being repaired, some
>ten
>years later, and complaints could still be heard about the government's
>continuing failure to enforce building codes rigorously enough.
>In the XX months (how many?) I have spent studying and teaching in Istanbul
>(is
>that accurate?), I have enjoyed almost unending Turkish hospitality.  When
>I
>first came here, on vacation, some two years ago, I met a fine man, Ilyas,
>who
>makes Saz (is this usage correct? should it be a Saz? Should Saz be caps?)
>(a
>stringed musical instrument that is as important here as the guitar is in
>America) and bought a beautiful one from him.  When I returned to Istanbul,
>this
>time to live (and work?), I visited Ilyas again.  When he learned I was
>looking
>for an apartment, he took most of the next day off and showed me around his
>neighborhood, eventually helping me find the place I now live.  The Saz
>lessons
>he eventually gave me were free.  My friend Ismail has spent countless
>hours
>with me, roaming the city, looking for deals on used furniture.  He and his
>wife
>have also lent me a beautiful rug, a blanket, and several other very useful
>items in my apartment.  I occasionally get gifts from my students, and
>never an
>unkind word from anyone.  After the earthquake itself, several of my
>Turkish
>friends kept in frequent touch with me.
>Several days ago, on the television, I saw and heard a crowd burst into
>applause.  A young boy had just been rescued from one of the many collapsed
>buildings.  He appeared dusty but unscathed.  As they carried him to an
>ambulance a reporter followed, asking him questions.  Were you scared?
>"Cok
>korktum [very scared]!''  His response was perky.  He was clearly delighted
>to
>be back in the world, by the attention he was getting.  Then he was asked
>about
>his family.  His eyes grew wide, his face long.  "Annem [my mother],
>kardesim
>[my sister/brother], sesleri duydum [I heard their voices].  Duydum!''  By
>the
>time they reached the ambulance, he was screaming.  "Sesleri duydum!
>Sesleri
>duydum!''
>I hope the rest of the world hears Turkey's cries for help.
>?_va2??MDUL?Mark Skilling is San Francisco attorney who is spending a year
>(?)
>studying and teaching English in Turkey (again, is this accurate?).?MDNM?
>
>Bill
>


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