My Father’s Books

The Spyglass

63 The Spy­ glass Some­ time in the 1920s, my ­ father ­ brought home an old spy­ glass that he had ­ bought in a sec­ ond­ hand store in the Grand Ba­ zaar in Con­ stan­ tin­ o­ ple. The store ­ mainly sold old war tro­ phies and other ob­ jects from the Ot­ to­ man pe­ riod. The spy­ glass had be­ longed to a Turk­ ish Ja­ nis­ sary com­ mander. This in­ for­ ma­ tion was ­ clearly en­ graved on it. In the sec­ ond­ hand store there were var­ i­ ous other odds and ends, but it was ­ mainly the tro­ phies and weap­ ons that ­ caught one’s eye. Here spar­ kled a Ja­ nis­ sary chain, worn by the most elite of the Ot­ to­ man mil­ i­ tary corps to dem­ on­ strate their mem­ ber­ ship. Over there one’s eye was ­ struck by the glint of broad, ­ curved Ja­ nis­ sary ­ swords; by a small Ja­ nis­ sary flag next to a bow and arrow; by Ja­ nis­ sary flint­ lock ri­ fles, Ja­ nis­ sary caul­ drons and­ spoons—all the par­ tic­ u­ lar sym­ bols of that old mil­ i­ tary order. Al­ though the Ja­ nis­ sary era—dat­ ing from the time of the Ot­ to­ man ­ period’s gran­ deur and de­ cline—was long over, many peo­ ple ­ stopped in at the Con­ stan­ tin­ o­ ple sec­ ond­ hand shop where Ja­ nis­ sary rel­ ics were ­ bought and sold. The time of the Ja­ nis­ sar­ ies did not pass away eas­ ily. It had re­ mained­ within the peo­ ple.­ Father ­ looked with in­ dif­ fer­ ence at the Ja­ nis­ sary tro­ phies. His gaze­ rested with ex­ cite­ ment only on this large spy­ glass. He him­ self could not ex­ plain why he had ­ bought the Ja­ nis­ sary spy­ glass and ­ brought it home to the Bal­ kans. Those close to my ­ father found it ­ strange when they saw him back in his own coun­ try with the spy­ glass. They im­ a­ gined that he ­ stared­ across the bor­ der at the op­ po­ site shore of the lake and con­ tem­ plated his fu­ ture jour­ ney. Grand­ father was the one most ­ pleased by the spy­ glass. It was as if he had been con­ demned to live a sol­ i­ tary life by the shore of the lake. All his kin had ­ crossed the bor­ der, first his broth­ ers and sis­ ters, 64 then his sons and daugh­ ters from his first mar­ riage. When he saw his old­ est son from his sec­ ond mar­ riage re­ turn from Con­ stan­ tin­ o­ ple with the large spy­ glass in hand, he ­ couldn’t have been hap­ pier. He had­ thought that if any­ one had been des­ tined to re­ main ­ abroad, it would be this son. Grand­ father, with child­ ish glee, was de­ lighted both with his son’s re­ turn and with the spy­ glass. He kept it with him day and night. At the break of day he would make his way to the edge of the lake. When the air was most trans­ par­ ent, he could look ­ through the spy­ glass to the op­ po­ site shore of the lake, ­ across the bor­ der. He ­ walked along the shore look­ ing ­ through the spy­ glass. While thus sail­ ing in place, he im­ a­ gined him­ self the cap­ tain of a van­ ished ship. Many years have ­ passed since then. Grand­ father van­ ished in a splen­ did dream with the spy­ glass in his hand. A long time there­ af­ ter, the spy­ glass was vir­ tu­ ally for­ got­ ten, as if it had been ex­ hausted from use. The spy­ glass would have re­ mained for­ got­ ten had my ­ father not taken it out one day and made the fate­ ful de­ ci­ sion that we would all cross the bor­ der in the old fam­ ily row­ boat and re­ main for­ ever out­ casts. We ­ traveled at night. We could not cross the bor­ der in day­ light with­ out being seen or being ­ stopped, even with­ out bor­ der ­ guards on ei­ ther side of the lake. The bor­ der ­ changed so ­ quickly that the bor­ der­ guards could not ar­ rive fast ­ enough to pro­ tect...