Aaaaaaaand here it is:
Middle School!
3rd Grade
The annual ritualized torture I inflict on my children, otherwise known as the first day of school photo.
Nicholas’ turn next Monday!
It’s obligatory…
Category Archives: Family
The First Day of School
Tatiana’s first day of school, August 2010
All three kids in school!
The First Day of School
My mother is tired of this world
She is silent and impatient
With the inexorable gravity
That encumbers each step and
Forces surrender to the waiting bed
I’m a middle-aged woman now
Struggling to look jaunty as I run
So as not to shame my children
Riding past me on the school bus
Just a moment ago at the bus stop
My son crouched to whisper
In his sister’s ear, “In Kindergarten
You have to pay attention to your teacher
And listen to every word she says.”
These words are weightless and indissoluble –
As indelibly engraved upon his heart as on mine
These are my mother’s words, flitting now
Like butterflies on the school bus
Lumbering up the hill.
8/25/2010
When I was a child, every morning before I left for school my mother would say, “Pay attention to your teacher. Listen to every word she says.” On my daughter’s first day of Kindergarten, as we were waiting for the bus to come, I was shocked to hear the very same words of advice coming out of her older brother’s mouth. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been echoing my mother’s words to my own children. After seeing all three of my children onto the school bus for the very first time, I started off for a run. I ruminated about the passage of time and the way in which words can be both weighty and weightless. They never age, and they can outlast us all.
My Brother is Special
In which it is revealed how truly smart my brother Teddy is…
If you happened to read my “Golden” posts a couple weeks ago, you’ll know that my mother thinks of my brother Teddy as “the smart one” of her four children. It’s important to note that in Korea intelligence is measured on an entirely different scale. We’re not talking remedial summer school, or even second-choice college material. We’re talking “not widely understood to be in line for the next round of MacArthur grants.” The collective Darwinian term my father favors for these unfortunate people is “Stragglers and Weaklings.”
When we were little, we didn’t have any toys. Consequently, I played with sticks and mud. My brother, on the other hand, was far more resourceful. He would fashion elaborate launching devices and real working mechanical vehicles with soup ladles, pots and pans, and rubber bands. Glimmers of his future brilliance were already emerging, but then he’d do something that would make my mom worry that she’d been too old when she had him, or that she had drunk too much Mountain Dew while he was in utero…
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My brother graduated from one of this nation’s finest universities with highest honors after four straight years on the dean’s list. He went on to law school where he became the editor of the law review. After passing the bar and going on tour with his band, he became a highly successful software engineer. Now he’s the owner of two businesses. But he didn’t always show such promise, and there were many times throughout his childhood when my parents must have broken out into cold sweats when they contemplated his future.
Teddy was three when we moved to a tiny little town in the deepest, darkest heart of Pennsylvania. My parents desperately needed to find some kind of childcare so my mother could go to work. This was back in the days before preschools were as plentiful as mushrooms after the rain. The only option in our little town was a preschool for kids with learning delays and disabilities.
Certainly any suggestion that their cherished and long-awaited son might actually meet the criteria for such a school would have been unwelcome to my parents to say the very least. This was how we knew my mother was desperate when she took Teddy, (short for Theodore, which means Gift from God, by the way) to the preschool to be interviewed.
The preschool director liked to put her young prospects at ease by warming them up with a few confidence-building, throw-away questions. She threw my brother the softest ball in her arsenal, “So Teddy,” she asked, “What color is the sky?”
Suddenly, the light was extinguished from his eyes, and a dull expression fell over his face like a mask. He gazed around the room disinterestedly, revealing what my sister likes to refer to as his “necklace of dirt balls.” “I don’t know,” he answered.
“What color is the grass?” the director gently probed.
“I don’t know.”
There was no need to continue. “You can start on Monday,” the director said brightly, ruffling Teddy’s hair.
Mother and son walked home in silence. Deeply troubled, my mother looked sidelong at her beloved boy and finally asked, “Teddy, what color is the sky?”
“Blue,” he answered promptly.
“What color is the grass?”
“Green,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation.
“Why didn’t you say that to the lady?”
And suddenly the dull mask: “I don’t know.”
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Teddy was so smart, he figured out how to game preschool admission at the tender age of 3!
Peaches
For me, no summer is complete without a visit to Chiles Peach Orchard in Crozet, Virginia. This weekend my friendy Wendy came for a visit and we managed to squeeze in a trip to the orchard before the start of school…
“From laden boughs…”
“Oh to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard…”
“the round jubilance of a peach”
Years ago, my writer friend shared a gorgeous poem with me, and I’ve been waiting for the perfect day to share it with you. Today is the day! You can read it here: From Blossoms, by Li-Young Lee.
Old Spice
Trying too hard?
Not trying hard enough?
Ewww.
I’m not quite sure why anybody would voluntarily choose to douse themselves in Eau de Your Grandmother’s Ancient Spice Rack, but both my dad and husband like Old Spice. At least when my dad used it, it came in an understated, milky white glass bottle adorned only with a classy clipper ship. Now the packaging is just plain embarrassing.
It’s possible that you may be thinking that it’s unkind of me to reveal my husband’s old geezer product preferences…I’m just getting him back for the time we were in the grocery store cereal aisle and he practically shouted, “Oh, here’s the All Bran. That will clear your problem right up!” Or more recently when I finally made my way to the beach after discreetly excusing myself to the rest of my family by saying that I wasn’t feeling well and he greeted me by bellowing across the sandy shore, “Oh, great! The Imodium worked!”
Happy, happy weekend!
Fenwick Island
I went to Fenwick Island on a mission. A few years ago we went to the Outer Banks with my dear friend Rosita and her family. One day Rosita took this picture of us:
Cliché thought it may be, I loved the white/khaki look. I loved that late afternoon light. I was determined to recreate the photo at Fenwick Island. I made sure to pack white and khaki outfits for everyone. The day before we were going to leave at the end of our vacation, I announced that it was time for our photo session. I made everyone get into their designated photo togs, some of them newly-bought just for the occasion. We wasted precious daylight as Teddy searched unsuccessfully for his khaki shorts. (The following week my sister emailed me to say that they had mistakenly gotten mixed in with her boys’ shorts). I admit it: I was insufferable. I stormed around looking for the shorts and making my son look for the shorts and even seriously considered making him wear a pair of women’s khaki shorts until my sister ripped them out of my hands and said, “NO.” I finally, huffily conceded that navy shorts would have to do. We went out onto the beach and my daughter immediately got a piece of sand in her eye. Through tears she insisted that she couldn’t open her eyes. And because I am a horrible, horrible human being, I heard myself saying absolutely outrageous things like, “Try not to cry for just one second! Just open your eyes and pretend not to cry on the count of three!” Truly, I had become unhinged…and I totally got what I deserved:
Note the look of intense suffering on Colin’s face…Nicholas looks pretty good though!
I did manage to get some better ones throughout the week. Here are some of my favorites:
My tribe minus Colin (the photographer) and my brother’s family, who had to leave early.
My sister and Tatiana
My niece
My sister and her daughter
The boys
Colin & boys
Cousins
My sister’s family
Look what Grandpa caught!
“Booooorn free!”
More sea life
My sister and her boys
Big Teddy and son
My brother’s family
Dandelion loves Grandpa
My mama
Mom and Dad
The “Golden” Finale!
Here’s the last half of the slideshow my sister and I put together for my parents’ Golden Anniversary party:
Each of carries within us a piece from past generations: an aptitude, a special talent, a twinkle in the eye, a smile.
Dad’s mother and four brothers who survived to adulthood
Fortitude. Courage. Conviction. Cheekbones!
Mom’s family
Intelligence. Creativity, Vision.
And as the next generation grows up, we are thankful for the many gifts and lessons passed down from our parents.
I discovered this in my second grader’s desk at Back to School Night this past year. I was so very proud.
Ummm…we’re still working on that one.
I’m quite convinced that my mother could whip up a teleportation device, if given a handful of paper clips, some tinfoil, and maybe a few coat hangers…
“I’m sexy and I know it!”
Snappy dressing? Let’s just say it’s a family tradition
On their 1st birthday, Korean babies chose a pen for scholarship, money for wealth, or string for long life.
“What’s that, Mom? You want me to pick up the money, do you? Hah! Here’s what I think of your money. I’m picking the pen, so you better start saving up…I’m planning on grad school!”
We sometimes disagree. Correction. We frequently disagree. Correction. We always disagree.
But we sometimes, frequently, and always kiss and make up.
And yes:
It must be genetic.
Thank you, Mom and Dad, for giving us 50 memorable years filled with love and joy. We love you.
Wishing each and every one of you a beautiful weekend.
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Golden, Pt. 4
My sister and I put together a slideshow for my parents’ Golden Anniversary party.
Here are some of the pictures we used…
In February 1963 my mother flew to San Francisco to marry my father. After proposing to her, he left for America to pursue his lifelong dream of higher education. She was to follow him, but her departure was delayed by a year when an x-ray revealed that she had had tuberculosis as a child. Now after a long separation, they would finally be together.
As you might imagine, moving from Korea to America was a radical shift. But it wasn’t as if my mother was unprepared. Having watched plenty of American movies, she knew exactly what to expect:
Imagine her surprise when she stepped off the plane to discover this:
As shown in this next photograph, some very important additions were made to our family in San Francisco…
namely: our dad’s book collection.
Next stop: Texas, where our dad earned his Doctorate of Theology:
But something even more momentous happened in Dallas…
Our mother gave birth to Don King.
OK, that’s really me, but you have to admit: the resemblance is striking.
Dad’s book collection likewise waxed fruitful and multiplied with scholarly tomes such as:
Every theology book, in and out of print:
The Bible in Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Aramaic, English, and Korean:
Books on natural science and political science:
Oh, and let’s not forget this one:
One time, our sister was perusing Dad’s bookshelf, filled with books she would never be able to read…She asked Mom, “Is Dad sad that he has stupid children?” Mom replied, “Teddy’s not stupid!”
In Texas we went to rodeos, we spoke with Southern accents. We totally assimilated into American culture, so much so that my sisters:
…actually became Native Americans.
But no sooner had we put the finishing touches on our teepee, when we immigrated back to Korea. We returned to a country that was rising like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes. We are all very proud that our family’s legacy was part of the rebirth of Korea. Our grandfather, the Johnny Appleseed of Korea, led the reforestation of 1235 acres of mountainous terrain which had been denuded by the war.
Johnny Appleseed and his sidekick, my dad.
But back then we were just kids. We didn’t know anything about the “Miracle on the Han.” All we knew was that we left the wonders of white bread…
For the agony of fish head.
We lost mac n’ cheese…
and gained sea cucumber:
And what about this delicacy?
Silkwork larvae?! You call that food?!
One glorious day, our sister, aged six, spied a bottle of Coca Cola in an old fashioned glass bottle on a window sill in Grandma’s kitchen. Her little heart leaped to her throat. For a fleeting moment the fact that it had a cork struck her as odd. But so homesick was she for America that although she knew it was wrong, she couldn’t resist. Surreptitiously, she grabbed the bottle, uncorked it, and took a massive swig.
It was soy sauce.
In Korea, another blessed addition was made to our family. Hallelujah! A boy at last!
If it’s not immediately obvious to you what my brother is saying in the photograph, let me interpret it for you…..
“Not three sisters!!!”
Teddy quickly grew up into a smart little boy. Here he is pointing at me and yelling, “Hey! Get back here! You’re not in the photograph, Dummy!” My mom was right. Teddy’s not stupid.
(Actually, I was trying to take over the camera, even back then).
From Korea we moved to Florida:
From Florida to Pennsylvania, and from Pennsylvania to DC, where we settled at last:
We were growing up, but some things never change. See that look on Teddy’s face?
It has nothing at all to do with the fact that he’s wearing a bright white bow tie the size of Montana. Nope. He’s still thinking, “Not three sisters!”
Tomorrow: The conclusion. I swear on a stack of Aramaic, Greek, Latin, Hebrew, English and Korean Bibles!
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Golden, Pt. 3
My brother Teddy gave me permission to publish the speech he gave at my parents’ 50th anniversary party:
One day when I was about ten years old my father came home with a big metal hoop and a pile of twine. I thought it was strange. What could anyone want with this junk? But when I woke up the next morning he had woven a perfect net out of twine and strung it onto the hoop to make a fishing net, better than anything you could buy at a store.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. When I went to bed there was a pile of junk on the living room floor. When I woke up it had been transformed into something beautiful and valuable. I bet you didn’t know your daddy could do that, my mother exclaimed. Despite herself, she was very impressed.
Later that day my father and I went fishing. Not the lame kind of fishing where you stand around with a pole all day and go home with nothing. Dad stood knee deep in the water and every time he dipped the net into the water it came out full to the brim with wriggling fish. I was amazed. I thought, Who is this man? Even the fish obey him!
Within an hour we filled two gigantic lawn bags full to the top with fish. There were at least 200 pounds of fish all told.
We got home late at night and when we dragged the fish in to the kitchen my mother’s jaw dropped. It’s too many! How am I going to clean all these fish before they spoil?
We hadn’t thought of that.
My mother stayed up all night, scaling, cleaning, and gutting fish, and by the next morning, the mountain of fish had been filleted and frozen. I couldn’t believe my eyes. When I went to bed there was a waist-high pile of dead fish on the kitchen floor. When I woke up it had been transformed into something valuable.
I don’t know how she did it, but somehow your mommy cleaned all those fish, my father exclaimed. Despite himself, he was very impressed with my mother.
I’ll never forget this incident. Imagine what it does to the world view of a little boy to realize that his parents are complementary parts of a whole, that they complete and reinforce each other; that the reason they can take care of everyone around them is because they work together. This is the secret to becoming a pillar of strength.
My parents can move mountains. They can start with nothing and before you know it they will turn it into something that you couldn’t even imagine. Something you didn’t know you needed until you can’t live without it.
Together my parents built a seminary which has produced countless ministers, who are out teaching the gospel on every corner of the planet. What a monumental undertaking. It can only be understood as my parents’ labor of love. Love of the gospel. Love of God. And love for each other.
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It’s true. My parents can move mountains. But the most amazing thing they ever did for me was to build the loving family that has been my pillar of strength. They gave me the gift of three siblings with whom to navigate this crazy, complicated, sometimes painful, sometimes staggeringly beautiful life. As I watched my brother give his speech (through tears – damn him!), I was filled with a sense of deep gratitude for having had the privilege to grow into adulthood with these people. I think what I’ll treasure most about my parents’ anniversary party and the week we spent at the beach right after the party, is the time my brother and sisters and I had to reconnect and strengthen our bonds.
After that car ride to the restaurant, we made a special effort to spend some time with just the four of us again. One night, after all the children had been put to bed, we went to the Fenwick Boardwalk and shared stories that had us laughing so hard we were crying:
Our CrossFit gym-owning, paleo-diet following, clean-living, super-healthy brother even consented to take a token lick of cotton candy in solidarity with his not-so-fit sisters:
Cotton candy toast!
Now that’s love…and I couldn’t imagine living without it!
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Golden, Pt. 2
All the grandchildren performed for their grandparents’ 50th anniversary party. My sister explained why…
Many years ago we had a family reunion with all my aunts and uncles and their families in San Francisco. The granchildren gave performances every evening in honor of my grandparents, who had flown all the way from Korea to be with their sons and daughters. My cousins are an accomplished lot, and like most Korean children, they were given music lessons from the moment they became zygotes. In nightly talent shows our cousins would perform for my grandparents. One cousin played alto sax like Charlie Parker. His sister played Chopin études with a sensitivity and understanding that belied her youth. Cousin after cousin displayed their brilliance at the piano. The youngest cousin, a mere toddler at the time, sang a lovely song with admirable poise and considerable charm.
My siblings and I were the only ones who were apparently devoid of any talent. As my sister explained, she and my other sister had in fact received piano instruction when they were little girls. They received exactly one lesson before they were fired by their teacher, who proclaimed it a hopeless cause. That teacher was our mother.
So at the family reunion, night after night my siblings and I sat, politely clapping for our cousins as they gave one virtuoso performance after another. One night, some of the cousins pushed my brother Teddy forward. Finally, our family’s talent was going to be showcased for our venerable grandparents! All week Teddy had been regaling the cousins with Eddie Murphy routines. Now, Teddy gamely stood up and performed a completely inappropriate routine for my grandparents. While I can’t remember the exact details, I’m sure there were penises involved. My grandparents probably didn’t understand a word he was saying, but tears were rolling down their cheeks as they laughed hysterically.
We were so very proud.
My siblings and I may never have had any talent, but our kids did their best to redeem us:
This little guy didn’t want to be left out.
For the finale, the kids performed In My Life, by the Beatles. My son had arranged a version for the three of them to play and he had cracked the whip like a martinet all month long trying to get them to do it right…
We were all glad when that was over and it was time for cake!
Tomorrow: Teddy’s speech and Sibling Love
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o wonderful, wonderful 