As I was going through my Bilkent email this morning in College Park, Maryland, my eyes switched to an alarming phrase in the subject line. I immediately knew that something wasn’t right, and then I found out that David had passed a way the night before... Sometimes we look for words to express our thoughts and emotions, but they are nowhere to be found. Still, I’ll give it a try. I’ve known David for a long time. I met him in mid 1990’s during my first sabbatical leave at Bilkent. Dave’s office was next to Cevdet’s right across the hallway from mine. He would come, pull a chair, and sit in my office for a stretch—always with his cup in his hand. I would reciprocate occasionally to pay a visit to him and our long chats would continue unabated. His daughter, Derya’s place was his biggest passion at that time—Google had just appeared on the www radar, and David was busy building Derya’s website for young poets from around the world to drop in and leave their emotions wrapped in words in Derya’s place. So did I, and left a couple of my own there too as I was relatively young back then… I made a few more sabbatical trips to Bilkent, and each time David and I sought each other, knowing that we had things to catch up on and we did. He would tell me that I always completed things, and “I never do,” he would say. That wasn’t true at all—I would only tell him about the work I completed, and he would tell me about the things he was excited about and kept working on. He was a true scholar, and one of the most dedicated teachers I've known, dedicated to his students and colleagues alike, and Bilkent was his true love and passion. He kept looking for ways to make Bilkent a more perfect place for everyone... There are so many stories that I have in mind when it comes to David Davenport. During most of my visits, with the exception of the last one, he would drive me around campus in his old automobile, to local restaurants, shopping malls, and occasionally downtown, while we would kid each other about life, what it means to be David or Yavuz or a college professor! At other times, I would go visit him in his office, and he would always have a pile of folders and papers on his desk and shake his head sometimes with wondering eyes to express his thoughts silently. We would both hesitate to be the first to talk, and then he would break the silence and tell me about his Java classes, exciting apps developed by his students, and how proud he was of his students.
On a cold January day, last year, I remember seeing him in his smaller office on campus for the last time. His father had either passed away, or gravely ill back in the UK, and he was planning to pay a visit back to his old place. My memory is fading on the details of our last encounter, but his handsome face, his gradually balding head, his greying mustache, the warm and sometimes startling smile in his eyes are trapped within the neurons of my brain now... It’s so very difficult to accept David's untimely departure. He was one of the unassuming pillars of Bilkent and was very dear friend. It's difficult to forget him and our fond memories; his humanity, his integrity, his allegiance to Bilkent, devotion his students, colleagues, computer science community, and the teaching profession will surely continue to inspire all of his colleagues at Bilkent, and set an example for his students and generations of college professors to come.
Life is every bit as real as David was, and yet it is as fragile as he was...
God bless his soul, and may he rest in peace!
A. Yavuz Oruç |
