Korean American Adoptee Home Is Within

..more images from my trip to the netherlands.

2010-03-11T02:41:00.001-05:00

Here are some more images of KyungIl that were taken during my visit in The Netherlands! For now, we are very excited about his visit and trying to go over a mental list of activities that we can do while he is with us! For my family in Korea, I have yet to write about his visit. I am wondering if I should just write to them in English so it can get to them sooner. It is something that is always on my mind..that I may lose the relationship we have made due to lack of communication and language barrier.

( These images were taken during my last day there. We spent the day walking around town and buying sweets for my children at home.)

what are the chances??

2010-03-03T02:05:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, my daughter and I went to the local Post Office to drop off mail for my brother, KyungIl's family. While waiting in line, a little boy came up to my daughter and began to talk to her. I looked down at them and smiled knowing my little one most likely would not dare to look at this cute boy trying very hard to get her attention. Instead, she shyly walked behind my legs and then proceeded to back up behind a poster nearby. As I watched her slip around the posterboard the little guy quickly followed her to sneak a peek around the poster and laugh. I could not help to laugh as well watching him so desperately to get her attention.

As the line moved forth, I continued to be mused by their actions as he continued to sneak a peek at my daughter and smile at her. Then, in the background, I heard a mother's voice calling to the little boy. I looked up to see his mother speaking to him in a familiar voice. I had heard this language before..and before I could help myself, I looked at her and asked her where she was from. She smiled and told me that she was from the Netherlands! Could you believe ...how funny things are! Standing there in line both of us with cards in hand waiting to be mailed to the Netherlands..we talked about her family and of my meeting with KyungIl and his family. I learned also that she had been in the Netherlands back in October 2009 while I also was visiting my Brother and his family! Tell me, what are the chances of something like this happening..right?

How special the day had turned out and how amazed I was to feel so close to my Brother and his family when only moments before I felt the distance between us as I held the card in my hand. This wonderful little boy and his mother allowed me to see we are as close as we allow ourself to feel.

***

Here are some more images from my visit back in October 2009. These images were taken while visiting Rotterdam Netherlands.

great news!

2010-02-24T15:43:00.002-05:00

Hi everyone! I realize that much time has gone by here without any updates on how my relations have been since I had reconnected with my Eldest Sister in Korea and my Brother in The Netherlands. First, I want to announce that my Brother from The Netherlands will be coming out to visit this Spring bringing with him his Father and Brothers! We are very excited and looking forward to their visit. Our children will finally meet their Korean Dutch Uncle very soon! It is a wonderful feeling that my dreams of my children one day meeting the Family that I had once lost and thought would only be told of in stories. And I look into the future and tell our children that one day, we will fly to Korea for a Family Reunion..all United.

I cannot say that this is far fetched hopes for my distant dreams have truly come into reality. And I will take this with all its tears and laughter that it brings. For my Siblings in Korea..I am still hopeful and hope we will talk again.

***

I thought I would post some images of my Brother, KyungIl, from my visit to The Netherlands here from time to time until his arrival! The images below are from our lunch while visiting Rotterdam, Netherlands. It was his first time eating Asian-Fusion Food. I was very happy to share his First with him! A wonderful little place full of charactor and good feelings. Enjoy!

making dinner with my brother in the netherlands

2009-12-13T15:04:00.000-05:00

One night, during my visit in The Netherlands with my brother Kyung Il, he told me that I would be visiting his friends to make dinner. I was surprised and excited about this adventure of ours. My brother meets with a group of people every week and prepares a dish together. They meet and shop for their ingredients and later cook their meals...a very cool idea! Every week they take turns on deciding what they will eat.

Since I was visiting and a guess to their group, I was honored with a tradional Dutch meal. Served with this wonderful entree was one of my favorites..brussel sprouts! It was a pleasure to meet his friends and to cook with my brother. An opportunity that I will look forward to again.

These sweet new memories we made during my visit will be close to my heart...always.

Right at your finger tips

2009-11-24T10:53:00.000-05:00

I am always uneasy about writing on this space of my current affairs since it is hard to separate your emotions from what may be playing out in the moment. No time passed to reflect or to digest and understand total dynamics of the situation.
I have been thinking about translators and translation lately. I recently wrote a few letters to my siblings in Korea letting them know of my visit to The Netherlands and sent some photos of the trip and of our Brother, KyungIl and his family. I have not heard of any responses yet and don't expect one any time soon. That is how our relationship has been moving since we reunited back in 2004. I realize many factors play into this and some of them I may never know. What I do know and feel is that disappointment that I tell myself I would avoid since I decided to search for them. I could be happy to have just known them and have found them and in a way, I am pleased with just this. But inside always aches for more.

My friends tell me that if there are Translators that has offered to help me to use them. I wonder at what cost? Aside from our initial Translator that we found when we first came home from Korea, I have used many through listings and through chance meetings. But with each of them, it is awkward since I do not know them well and feel I am intruding or simply too many favors. Sometimes it is not that I can simply do a 3way conversation on my home phone but that if I would use their services, I would have to visit them in their home or work place at certain times and then make calls...and always not easy to do this.

And after I have made all the arrangements to call, they are not there or we speak for a few minutes and later try again and speak a little to find out that my family in Korea do not remember our last conversation and state that is not what was said. Translation lost? I don't image this is what all adoptees go through but perhaps some understand what I am speaking of?

I am still dreaming of one day going back to Korea to visit them. I fear that I will lose total contact once again or become so distant that it would be awkward to go there. I will keep sending them my letters and photos from here. I hope that I will one day receive one back and hear from them of how they are doing in their homes.

In Search for a Korean Restaurant in Amsterdam - Visual Memory

2009-11-18T15:52:00.000-05:00

In search for a Korean Restaurant in Amsterdam

2009-11-18T15:40:00.000-05:00

Our Quest
Prior to my visit to The Netherlands, I told me brother, KyungIl, that he must try korean food while I am visiting him in Holland. He explained that he would love this very much but would need to research where we may find them, perhaps, in Amsterdam. We must have googled Korean restaurants several times in search for Korean food but found that there were maybe only 8 or 9 listings and at least half of them were shut down or too far away for us to travel. I was amazed and could not believe how difficult it was to find them even for a major city. We did come across one that was not a very long distance away to adventure out and for my brother to try! So, my brother KyungIl, his oldest brother, and I set out on our quest. It was very exciting and I felt the pressure to know my Korean and Korean selections if you readers understand what I mean. Especially other adoptees out there. But knowing the fact I enjoy and eat in Korean Restaurants often I knew what comes with dining in one too. I was ready and hoped they would very much enjoy their first experience.

The Restaurant.
While we were there, we discovered that most of the people working and dining at the restaurant were not Korean, perhaps, one? I do not think anyone spoke Korean and if they did they did not respond back to me as Koreans usually do when I spoke to them with my " broken Korean Tongue". This often stirred up conversation in "most" restaurants or any Korean stores. I found it very interesting and was curious about the food. To my surprise most everything they brought out was very good..a little different but good! I was very happy that they both really enjoyed it and would try Korean food again. It was nice to know that maybe there were other Korean stores and markets nearby that my brother could shop at and try some other Korean foods. It was a very special evening to sit and eat with them at their very first Korean Experience. We ate, laughed, and carried the evening away with good conversations that a good meal brings to the table. A special night for I hope not only me but all of us!

Yoo Kyung Il - My Brother's Blog

2009-10-29T20:56:00.000-04:00

A short time prior to my visit to The Netherlands, my brother created a weblog. I was thrilled that he wanted to create and share his experiences on his very own blog. Once it was set, it sat and waited for our meeting. He wanted to begin his adventure from our initial beginnings-my arrival in Amsterdam. How special this made me feel. Now he can share with his family, friends, and everyone his story and of our two weeks together. I am excited to see where this will take him. Only a couple months ago, I started a blog in hope to connect with other adoptees as well as my birth family and now I am introducing the blog of my brother from The Netherlands. I hope you can give his site a visit! His blog is called, yookyungil.

Visit to The Netherlands - Visual memory to our future

2009-10-28T23:31:00.002-04:00

Upon arriving at the airport in Amsterdam about 6 AM on Saturday the 16th of October, KyungIl, his parents, and his sister and her family came out to greet me at my arrival. How emotional and wonderful it was that morning.

Here, KyungIl and his Sister and family pose for a picture.

The two photos above were taken during our visit to Heusden. A very old town that once was used as a military fort. *I have to admit we visited many places and I hope that I am remembering everything correctly.

The photo above is of KyungIl and his oldest brother in front his Teak Furniture Store.

Me & KyungIl. Taken by his brother on our train ride home after a day in Amsterdam together.

Jelle - (parents of KyungIl) family dog.

KyungIl's brother-in-law and his son.

KyungIl's middle brother and his daughter

KyungIl and his sister- in-law

Photos taken during his Mother's Birthday Party which we celebrated together during my visit there.

The nieces working on a project during the Birthday party.

His Sister. Photo taken in his Mother's house during her Birthday celebration.

KyungIl and his very good friend. One evening, we went to visit his friend in the town where he resides. It was very nice to meet her and her family. It was so great to be able to see a little bit of his world and the friendships he cherishes.

To all the places of my Heart

2009-10-28T17:18:00.000-04:00

How suiting that I should look out my window to see the rain fall, drenching all that surrounds this house with its cool dampness and heavy thoughts that will continue to coat this house until I am to feel the weight of what has passed. There is no escaping it for it rains all around me. I wish not to run for cover for I shall welcome the rain and all new life that shall grow from it.

Home. It has been a couple days now since I have landed and had time to settle into my routine and bond with my family. And although I am so very happy to have returned I am missing very much my new family in The Netherlands. I had a great opportunity to meet and to get to know them in these last two weeks. They welcomed me into their homes and into their hearts. I am overjoyed by their kindness and especially happy that they are now part of my life as I hope I am to theirs.

My trip to The Netherlands opened the doors to our past and to our new future. I have not come back as the person I had left only a few days ago but changed with new memories and new hopes for our future. I welcome this new me with all that comes with change. I will not fight it or wish to for I know that I no longer can be the person I was only two weeks ago. Like every phase in this life, I do not know what it holds but I do welcome it as they have welcomed me into their life and into their hearts.

temple photos from korea

2009-10-16T12:15:00.000-04:00

I am about to go but thought I would leave these photos here as well as on my other blog, sheltersky! I hope you like them:) Hope to post photos from The Netherlands when I return! Take care!!

gyeobghoeru pavilion -seoul korea

temple located in mt. sorak - korea

changdeokgung palace-seoul korea

Leaving for The Netherlands tomorrow..

2009-10-15T12:25:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone! I feel this is kind of random writing to you today and I apologize. In some way, I feel writing about my current affairs is not easy. Perhaps, because I am living out what I am writing and therefore feel that I am too emotionally involved to sort out what all the values are and where all the perspectives are coming from. I hope you understand this rambling.

For the most part of this journey of 'blogging' I have mainly concentrated on my memoirs of my pre-adoption and post- adoption (the early years). Then it happened, in the midst of writing, my past once again came forth into my present. It happened the first time in 2004, when we found my siblings from childhood in Korea and this time, it was my younger brother who was adopted to The Netherlands as an infant.

In some respect, with the past and present meeting each other again, I felt stuck. Upon our meeting, I wanted to share everything here but knew that I was full of new emotions and old that would effect my understanding of what was happening not only to me but to all those involved. With this thought in mind, I introduced our encounter and then quietly left it. To write about the events of your life and of those who share it with you is something you cannot do so freely. It comes with great responsibility and for me, I respect this very much. The way your present life plays out and how it is perceived and later is reflected changes greatly not only once but perhaps again and again. I believe this is very true for many adoptees including my own life. I see this as I have learned of my past and relearned it again as new people and of those from my past come with their memories of a past that we had shared. I am not excluded from this for each stage of my life, I have gone through various understanding and emotions that attached it to the memories of what were once a present thought. In this way, I am right back where I started with this blog. I am writing and letting it take me as I follow. For my reunions and new unions with the people that have come into my life is just that.

Tomorrow, I will be leaving to go to meet my younger brother, Kyung Il, who resides in The Netherlands with his adopted family. In these short weeks, I have gotten to know them a little and am very happy they have welcomed me not only into their lives but to have me at their home! I will be staying with them for the next two weeks. I am very happy and thrilled to have this opportunity to spend time with my new extended family and my dear brother that I have learned of only a few years ago and have found just a couple months ago. I have to say that we have been speaking to one another on a daily basis and it is so nice because he understands and speaks English. I am always saddened that the relationships that I have with my siblings in Korea is limited due to the lack of communication and translation.

I think of fate and how life works out at times. I have longed so long for to reunite with my family that I lost as a child to now have found a new member of the family that speaks my adopted language. In this short time, I feel we understand each other more than my siblings in Korea will ever understand or know. I feel the only way this could change is if one of us learns the others’ tongue. I have felt that it was the distance between us not just the language that separated us since we found we each other in 2004 but now understand more that the language barrier is much stronger and divides us farther.

I wish I could express to my family in Korea how I feel and that I will be meeting my brother but perhaps that will come in time like all things. I will send my eldest sister a note about my visit and hope she will let the others know of this. I also hope that she will try to reconnect with my sister, Kyung Ok. I had lost contact with her about two years ago and am afraid my siblings in Korea had lost contact as well. From what I know, no one really knows why this happened which only leaves me to guess all the possibilities that come with reunions.

So, I will be leaving tomorrow and will check on my blogs while I am gone but will not be writing again for awhile. You can bet I will take lots of pictures and will post when I return! Take care everyone

ROEB's Photoblog and my visit to The Netherlands

2009-10-08T12:25:00.002-04:00

I thought I would post this message here as well. I had just posted this on my photoblog, Sheltersky. Hope everyone can visit ROEB's photoblog. He has a lot on there and going through his archives, found many beautiful poems there as well.

Here it is:
A couple days ago, I had come across an interesting blog called, ROEB. This blog is out of The Netherlands which now holds much interest to me since I had recently connected with my younger brother who resides in The Netherlands. An agency out of Korea helped us to connect about a couple months ago. You see, I was adopted to the States when I was 7 years old and my brother to The Netherlands when he was an infant. Although, I had grown up thinking I was the youngest of five, I have come to learn we are 6 siblings in total. I had found out about my younger brother when my husband and I were visiting Korea on our honeymoon in 2004. We left Korea, not only having found my surviving siblings who continue to reside there but that I had a younger brother living in The Netherlands. If you are interested in reading more about my childhood memoirs and of our meeting, you can go to, Korean American Adoptee Home is Within.

Going through ROEB's blog gives me an interesting perspective of a place that my brother lives and that I will be able to visit next week. To me, it is interesting further because it depicts and gives us a glimps of the mix in cultures that co-exist within Holland. It is a thoughtful site and one that leaves me feeling more inquisitve and feeling more responsible for how I view the world around me. I wish ROEB much luck with his photoblog and am very happy to have met him here in cyberworld!

Subject: October 3rd: Choosuk Festival and Parade

2009-10-02T11:13:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone!

I just recieved this message through Facebook / yKAN October Social Event! It will be held in Manhattan, New York . I don't think you have to belong to the group to go to the Parade but may have to contact the group for their special night event. The contact email is at the bottom of the message I pasted here from yKAN. I will be unfortunately away this weekend but hope some of you can go out and show your support and have fun!

********************************************************************
Subject: October 3rd: Choosuk Festival and Parade & yKAN October Social Event

October 3rd is a busy day for yKAN, as we will be celebrating Lunar Autumn Festival (Choosuk) AND Oktoberfest, all in one day!!

Some of us from yKAN will be going to the Choosuk Festival and Parade in Manhattan before we head out to yKAN's October Social Event at a beer garden in Long Island City. If you care to join us for the Choosuk celebration, meet us at the RESIDENCE INN on 39th Street and 6th Avenue in Manhattan at 12:30 PM. Afterwards, we can head out to Beer Garden at around 3 PM.

Meeting location: RESIDENCE INN ON 39TH STREET AND 6TH AVENUE IN MANHATTAN

Meeting time: 12:30 PM

Korean Festival Venue: 32nd Street between 5th Avenue and Broadway.

Korean Parade will be from noon to 2:00 PM on 6th Avenue from 41st Street to 24th Street.

yKAN October Social Event
In the spirit of Oktoberfest, come join us on Saturday, October 3rd, for a night of food and drinks in an open-air German-style beer garden at Studio Square!

Studio Square, located in Long Island City, Queens, NY is home to one of NYC’s largest and newest beer gardens, having an open-air eating and drinking area with park benches, as well as large indoor areas. Studio Square’s self serve, cash only menu features German and American grill favorites and there are 19 imported, domestic, and craft beers on draft.

Look for our outdoor table at Studio Square starting at 4:00 PM. Eboard members will bring balloons and will be wearing yKAN t-shirts. The venue is accessible by subway by the R, V, G lines as well as the N, W lines.
See Studio Squares’ website (http://www.facebook.com/l/2b69b;www.studiosquarenyc.com) for more information regarding directions and venue info.

What: yKAN October Social Event

When: Saturday, October 3rd, 2009

4:00 PM – 7:00 PM

Where: Studio Square (S²)

35-33 36th Street, Astoria, NY 11103

Who: yKANers and friends

Contact: eboard@ykan.org or http://www.facebook.com/l/2b69b;facebook.ykan.org

chinese adoptee weblog by erin

2009-09-28T17:04:00.002-04:00

Through this course of writing and meeting other adoptees, I have met a very special, talented, and interesting individual, her name is Erin. After we had a few conversations with each other I have learned that she like so many of us out here have much to say about adoption and of different aspects of her life. She had expressed to me how she wanted to create a space where other adoptees like herself can go and express what it means to be a Chinese Adoptee. A place for all their voices to come together and unite in one place to share their experiences and resources. It is a place where she hopes the forgotten voices of so many other Chinese Adoptees can be heard and understood. In developing her weblog, she has had conversations with an organization called, CAL (Chinese Adoptee Links). CAL is also trying to unite Chinese Adoptees Worldwide together in one place. It is a work in progress.

What a great idea! I am so happy for my new friend and wish her the best. I know that there are many APs that come visit my site who have adopted children from China, please go check out these sites and let's support them so they can grow and florish. Let's get the word out! I have done my homework as well and she was right. There are not many blogs written from Chinese Adoptees. I see these adoptees coming over and following Korean Adoptee Blogs so they can come to a place to share and connect. If anyone knows of other Chinese Adoptee blogs, please go to her site and submit the information and please leave it here as well.

We are all adoptees who should be heard and given a chance to connect. It is what we can all learn from each other that will help us to grow and learn more of ourselves.

I have linked the title of this post to her site. The address to her blog is : http://www.chineseadoptee.com/

okay..technical dificulties!

2009-09-28T12:51:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to drop a message here and tell everyone that I have now completely lost the message column on the side bar. I am sorry and fustrated that I no longer have your comments there. I tried to find it under gadgets to update it back on there but cannot even find it. If you like to leave a comment, please leave it under individual posts. Maybe I will be able to find it again...Thanks!

Korean Town

2009-09-20T23:52:00.002-04:00

Shopping at H-Mart
Today, we made our run to Korean Town to stock up on our Korean food and to escape into Korean land for a few hours. If I think back, I have always tried to shop at an H-Mart at least once a month no matter where I lived. There were times, when younger, my roommate (who was also first generation Korean) and I would drive to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania down South Street to an H-Mart. Considering that this was over two hours drive for us, it would always turn into a day trip. This was perfectly okay with us since we were able to capture a little sense of our childhood every time we went back.

This monthly ritual never left me. Relationships came and went but I made sure that my little trips into Korean land would continue to be a big part of my daily routines. I always figured that whomever I would meet or settled down with would have to learn to eat Korean food and hoped they would like it as much as I loved and appreciated it. I was very lucky! When I met my husband, he could not eat any spicy food nor had ever tried anything outside of basic American classics and fast food. After getting to know me and my love to explore new palates, he quickly came around and now loves Korean food almost as much as I do. As for our children, we never really discussed it but knew that if we continued with our traditions and continue to eat Korean food as part of our daily diet, they would just follow. And sure enough, they have never questioned it. This is not to say that they are not picky about what they liked or disliked but it is not foreign to them. And from introducing the food to them, it led to questions and answers towards who was Korean and who wasn't. And even to this day, my little ones see others that look like me and would say how they all look like another mommy.

These days, our children look forward to shopping in Korean Town and sitting down at our Traditional Korean table to cook Bulgogi or to make Kimbab. When friends come by, they are always amazed how our kids eat this strange food right up. I tell them that for them it is nothing out of the ordinary. For them, they have grown up with this food and know that they are Korean too.

*** This is for my brother in The Netherlands: I have a series of photos I took from our shopping trip today for everyone to get a glimpse of the food they sell. More like the junk food we like to buy and consume. Enjoy the photos!

Things In Threes

2009-09-13T23:42:00.008-04:00

I had received a few different request through the Face Book site to complete various types of "Notes" but had deleted them all until I had received one that stated I had to write up a list of the things that mattered the most to me but in Threes. I was going to pass it up once again but thought it would be a good way to describe myself and to reflect on what really does matter in my life. In the end, I found it to be an interesting & fun way for me to look at the things that had happened to me over the years. I felt it was a good way for others to get to know me probably a little more than they had before. Maybe you will try this.

It went like this:

Begin with 3 Names

1.Kyungmee
2. Amey
3. Mommy:)

3 Countries Travelled

1.Korea ( left 1979 & returned 2004)
2.Dominican republic
3. Peru

3 Languages

1. Korean ...once fluent now struggling
2. English...you would think I should know this language better.
3. Spanish...if only Koreans spoke Spanish

3 Engagements...!

1. A***
2.N***
3. My Husband:)

3 Movies that make me smile!

1. My Fair Lady
2. Harvey
3. Being There

3 More Painful Memories

1. Being Adopted (departing my family & beginning a new one..the early years)
2. Finding my Korean Siblings & having to depart from them once again with uncertain future for us.
3. Losing my Father & Sister ( my family here) within months after our Return from my Korean Family Reunion.

3 Wishes that came true.

1,2,&3 ;) My husband & my two children.

3 Things I really enjoy...& wish I could do more often.

1. Paint...always wanted to learn to paint.
2. Love Photography.
3. Love to Dance even if I look crazy out there on the Floor! Love how music and dance can truly touch you in so many ways.

3 Books that provoked & enlighten me in my mid-teens.

1. Maxim Gorky..."My Childhood'
2.Fitzgerald ... "Cities on a Hill'
3.Steinbeck ...'Of Mice and Men' - wasn't a book of my own choosing but had to read this one in school. It had a Dramatic affect on me while reading it one late night. Cried on my Mother's lap for hours...she thought I had lost it ..lol...over a book!

3 Things I think is very cool.

1. The ability to 'control' my dreams whether it is to change scenery, mood or outcome. Especially, when I have reoccurring dreams.
2. The ability to sense 'others' 'spirits' or call it what you will...I have to say I had a couple experiences that were very real.
3. Meditation...I have meditated different times in my life...mainly recreational ( in a gym). The one time I can say that I have felt a sense of separation from my body and yet felt so in tune to my body and my surroundings was when a friend was teaching me how to meditate and understand different levels to meditation.

BREAKING

2009-09-10T16:20:00.006-04:00

My List of Memories...

2009-09-03T03:04:00.023-04:00

I have compiled a list of some of my favorite memories that I have revisited in my mind over the years. Some of you may recognize them and even remember doing the very same thing as a child. I hope they bring back some of your own memories.

1. Buying candy/taffy pieces from food carts that came through town. Taking the taffies and placing them into ladles to heat them over coal, and twirling the taffy until hardened enough to eat. There were so many kinds of taffies. Some taffies you could press a design out prior to eating when it was in the cooling process.

2. There is Pong Tweegi, the large round popped rice cakes. They spoon a little into a machine that when heated, it expands and releases making a loud popping sound. End product, you have a large round flat popped rice cake with a slight sweet flavor. It is every child's favorite. The Pong Tweegi, we still find in the Korean Supermarkets here.

3. Sweet steamed bean buns. In Korea, I remember carts that came around selling these buns and now, we can go to the Korean markets and buy them frozen or sometimes you can buy them fresh right out of a steamer.

4. Steamed snails. Vendors would come around selling steamed snails in a cone. I remember my father buying them for me on our little walks.

5. Playing marbles the way it should be done. With little dug out holes in dirt and flicking the marble with your thumb watching the marble roll across the dirt to hit another into the holes.

6. Playing with Korean paper dolls. I used to pass these paper dolls every time we were in the market. I remember, one day while shopping with my sister, I slipped a paper doll booklet into another book that my sister had purchased. I remember feeling I deserved the extra booklet since I could not have it any other way.
7. Paper Squares. I cannot remember the name of this game but know that traditionally boys played it. Like origami, you fold the piece of paper until you have a square. Flat on one surface and the other would be the folded side. You are suppose to throw it down trying to flip the opponents piece that is already lying down on the ground. If the other piece flips than you win their piece. I remember running through the narrow streets, climbing up on the walls and flipping them down to win the other players pieces. It was a boys game but being a tomboy I was accepted into their games. We would run through the streets with our bags full of game pieces, showing them off to others, especially, if we collected some interesting ones or big ones.

8. Counting game among girls to see how many babies you will have. To play this game, you must be a girl. What you want to do is take your hand and make a fist. Have your palm side facing up. Then, you want to press down the exposed part of your palm above your wrist until little bumps appear up on top of your wrist. Now count. However many bumps you count is the amount of babies you will have.

9. Collecting shiny buttons. I believe it was when I lived with my foster mother. There were trails that led to some garbage/dirt piles that had many different shapes and sizes of shiny plastic buttons and shiny plastic round discs (Chiclets).

10. Sitting around blowing bubblegum with girls. Listening to my eldest sister crack her gum very loud in her mouth and thinking she was amazing.

11. Sneaking into movie theaters with my girl friend or perhaps, sisters.

12. Braiding leaf stems into each others hair. A memory of my girlfriend and I that I will call Muri.

13. Going to Korean Bath houses with my eldest sister and I believe my nephew when he was only a baby. Remembering how it was an awesome and yet awkward experience. I remember, when you first walked in, you could either go right or left depending on your sex. There was a little square window that sat too high for me to see into. When you walk in, you can see wall to wall tiles with fountains that squirted water out all around the floors and walls of the room. It was steamy and very hot in the room. And yes, everyone was naked.

14. Lining up in front of our houses to wait for the medical van to come and give us our Small Pox shots. Makes it into my favorite memories since it is one that has been discussed a lot in my childhood and had made a scar on my shoulder that appears like a a little heart.

15. I remember walking down a little dirt road that led me down to a small building with a long pole that sat in front of the building. Up on the top of this pole was a Korean Flag. I would sit down under this flag and try to draw the most beautiful Korean Flag. I loved drawing the Korean Flag as a child.

16. Seeing my eldest sister dance to Barbara Streisand outside of her friends house on a clear sunny day. If you stood outside of this house, you could see down the road to where a small overpass met the street.

17. Two American things I knew of and loved prior to coming to the States. They were Wonder Woman and Barbara Streisand.

18. Korean puppet shows, The traditional Fan Dance, and Korean Masks. I can still remember how to hum to the music of the Fan Dance.

19. Dancing in a circle in traditional clothing under the moon (Moon Dance) during Korean Harvest season in the Fall.

20. The Korean New Year (I believe it was the New Year celebration). We dressed up in Korean Traditional outfits and went around knocking on neighbors doors. When they answered, we bowed or curtsied to receive coins.

21. The many ways to properly sit, bow, and speak to show different levels of respect. I revisited this memory many times because of how others here has always found this aspect of my past very interesting. Therefore, it kept this memory very intact. Some interesting differences to point out that was misunderstood when young. First, I used to point with my middle finger out. My mother always became embarassed and would scold me. She did not realize that this was customary in Korea. I did not know I was doing anything wrong back in those days..funny now I think about it. How I used to sit with my legs tucked under me in a very upright position. I sat in this manner to watch TV or talk, etc. People and my family thought I was very strange little girl to sit so different and funny. My sister used to make fun and try to get me to sit like her but I believe I sat in this manner for a few months until I relaxed and began to 'fit' into my families routines. Finally, at night, my mother would tuck me in and she would tell me that when she checked on me at night, that she couldn't tell if I was in the bed . I would stay in one position very still all night long. Plus the fact that I was so little, I did not make any wrinkles in the sheets while I slept. I told her when I was older that perhaps it was because in Korea, we ALL slept together in one sleeping comfortor on the Floor Bed.

22. Traditional way to prepare Kimchee and to cook your food on coal pits.

23. Always tried not to forget the big rectangular fridge size rice containers. We would have one in our home to store rice. At the bottom of this rice storage container was a sifter and a lever to pour out rice. We would go into the market and buy huge burlap sized bags of rice and empty it into this container.

24. I always remembered the Korean Subways. I would tell people here in the States that the subways were very different from the ones here in the States. I could not exactly explain how they were different until we had gone there in 2004.

25. One of my favorite memories was sitting on the steps of a temple and watching the monks pray. I could sit there and watch forever. I was fascinated by them and the sounds that came out of these temples.

26. Eating Dukbokki as a child and still loving it!

27. Korean Playing cards. I had forgotten the name for the cards when I was young but learned the name over the years. It is called Hwa-Tu. Below is a letter I wrote in 2004 to my brother in Korea but it had returned as undeliverable. I never got to send it again but on it you can see my drawings of the playing cards.

To my Brother in The Netherlands...

2009-09-03T00:45:00.011-04:00

To my brother in The Netherlands...Fate might have known that we shall meet here today. How do I explain the course my life has taken and the roads that has led me back to our Motherland and now to you. How can I explain all the coincidences that seem to occur right when I need them the most. Perhaps, they are signs that are meant to be followed even if I do not comprehend them when they appear. I may be foolish to dream that fate or signs are guiding me through our meetings and perhaps something more but it is what has driven me since my childhood and has saved me from the other.

When we talked the other day, I showed you the painting I had done of 'starry night' by Van Gogh. I had painted that piece around 2001. I don't know why I suddenly wanted to show you my artwork and thought afterwards that it was a bit much for our initial conversations. Today, after I had posted a poem that I had wrote in 1991, I saw a box of postcards that my husband had pulled out from the garage the other night. I sat on my couch and began to rummage through to revisit the old postcards.

You see, they never belonged to me, they were from the mother of a past relationship back in 1991. Prior to passing away from cancer, she asked me to have these cards. Some of these postcards are vintage postcards that she had collected while others were of her own past. I felt at the time very strange to accept them considering that they were of her own memories. Her son could not look at them and I felt I should accept this offer. I had gone through them over the years, randomly selecting some of the cards to read and then would place them back into the box and store them away.

Tonight, I sat down to do the same. My mind today has been racing and out of sort. I am filled with all emotions and feeling somewhat disconnected. So, I opened the box and read a few postcards. I grabbed another handful and flipped through feeling a little removed. That is when I came across Van Gogh. I love his his work and of course stared at the card for a moment before flipping it over to read the back. This is what I read: Vincent Van Gogh 1853-1890. de oogst. the harvest. la moisson. Van Gogh Museum 1973. Printed in the Netherlands.

I don't know what this signifies but my feelings of insecurities disappeared and I found myself feeling that we are about to open a new chapter in our life. I see before me, a painting of a field rich and plentiful, ready for the harvest. Perhaps, our journey has come to the same conclusion. And from this point on, we will move forth together to build new memories.

Poetry 1991

2009-09-02T18:45:00.013-04:00

As always, I feel in me more vulnerability displaying my old poetry for all to read. As you may have already noticed, my life here in this cybersphere does not run a smooth timeline for all to read and to grasp as we may wish and see our lives that we lead.

My mind is timeless and the memories that it holds have no boundaries or limitations. I learned from a young age that I was able to dive into my dreams and explore the endless possibilities and depths of my fears and of life. I wonder sometimes if my experiences had led me to this space or if it was always within me.

My mind searches to match my emotions; flipping, twisting, bending the colors that fill my senses and my restless being. I feel love, pain, insecurity, blindness, hope, and the reassurance that I seek. Then it appears before me. It is an old poem that I had wrote back in 1991.

Turbulent Minds

Triumphant cries of naked tongues

Whispers lured where silence lies

Walk through amber fields

Carry riches for brilliant feathered minds

Gather knowledge through their roots

They lived in hunger and breathed the air

Wind had taken the seeds out of their palms

Tangled in disguise rooted grass forms the nest

Mouth feeds the vulnerability

Security out of reach

Rapture of faith

A web of a thousand souls

Voices never heard the cries they ignored

Questions never answered

Portraits of misleading guides

To the Highest they ascribed

Mention not the truth

False alliances of their common faces

Lips closing in rage

Lost in Translation...

2009-09-02T01:10:00.001-04:00

In my recent reconnection with my family in Korea and locating my younger brother in the Netherlands, I learned I have a nephew in Seoul, Korea. He is my eldest sister’s son. In 2004, during our first reunion, I was told by a translator that my sister did not have a son or did not have a son while I was still in her care. My mind was blown away, thinking all my thoughts and memories of this little baby that I had cared for prior to leaving my sister were perhaps not the memories I believed they were.

From 2004 to just last week, I had come to accept this news and tried to place this child into some image in my thoughts hoping that I would encounter another time and place for him. Like going back into time, I was again listening to my sister talk in Hangeul while my translator tried to keep up with all the messages that were being said to her.

I am told that our nephew will be our point of contact in Korea. Upon hearing this, I asked when my sister had her son, our nephew. My translator explained to me that he was born while I was under my sister’s care back in the late ‘70s. She tells me that I cared for him every day while my sister worked. She explains that I had carried him around on a sling that held him close to my body.

I could not believe what I was hearing. No, I could believe what I was hearing! Why not! Since 2004, I had heard a couple versions of what might have happened during my last year in Korea and thereafter, but no one could really tell me for sure what had really occurred, or perhaps it was lost in translation. And now, I hear from my sister, from my translator, that my memories of my little nephew were TRUE. I wondered if my memories of the little baby I had told to remember me during our farewells was my nephew or perhaps my little baby brother. My memories do not allow time to be accountable; it only allows images to overlap and bring forth visions that remain intact and vivid within my mind. For me, this memory was always very special because of how I remember leaving there; Leaving my family, my sister, and my nephew behind.

Canned Peaches

2009-08-31T17:14:00.006-04:00

Every time I see or open a can of sliced peaches my thoughts are led back to my early childhood years. It brings a smile to my face and usually a conversation that follows. Everyone always asks why peaches but I really do not know how to answer but perhaps because of the times and they were maybe imported American peaches. I do know that it was the late 1970s and times were hard for everyone including my foster family. I remember my foster father occasionally bringing back these peaches when he had to go into town. It has always been a wonderful memory and I find myself buying canned peaches so I can tell our children this story.

Canned Peaches...
The small leafy plant that sat in the corner of the room seemed to perk up immediately as the rays from the sun came filtering in from the small window that sat perfectly in the middle of the white wall. With it came an intense heat that warmed the floor almost to the point that made it unbearable to sit. The room was bright with shimmers of light that streamed down over our heads and onto the ornaments that sat on top of the little wooden dresser. The mother of pearl that was carved so intricately into the face of the dresser sparkled and danced as if to lift its little petals off the dresser and into the light.

We were all mesmerized by the presence of the late afternoon light and had almost tuned out the chatter and confusion of our daily routine. Our foster mother walked up to the window and peeked out into the yard. She turned to look at us very excited; she smiled and said, “Father is here! He made it back early. Bali Bali!! Hurry! Quickly now! Let’s clean up and set the table. Go get the babies. Please, get our Beads for prayer. Children, all gather now.” We all ran around laughing and bumping into each other to quickly clean the little room and to call all the younger ones into the house to greet our foster father. I was very much excited and smiled very big to show my foster mother how happy I was. Amazingly, we all managed to gather around the round wooden table before he arrived at the door.

The paper panel door to the room slid open with a huge voice that greeted us as our foster father entered the room. We all smiled and greeted him anxiously as he walked over to the table carrying in his arms a little black plastic bag. He sat down and opened the bag; taking out a large can of sliced peaches. He looked very pleased from his day trip into town. Foster mother walked over to the table and eased herself down to kneel down and to sit on her legs. She passed around the beads to all the children that sat around this circle. We lowered our heads and they began to chant a prayer.

I tried not to look up but I peered across the table to see everyone praying. As my eyes circled the room, I watched some of the children praying with tears and others, like my foster mother’s daughter, sitting, and holding her husband’s hand and her baby with the other. I tried to mirror the other children who seemed to know the words and who also had tears that ran down their small faces. I could not shed even one tear. I kept thinking about the canned peaches and how I wanted to eat them. I tried to quietly yawn to let out a small tear but nothing came forth. I felt my eyes become a bit moist and hoped that everyone could see my tears as I tried to look as if I was praying. I sat with my head down low and waited for the prayer to end.

The silence broke with loud cheering and big smiles that could be felt all around the room. Our foster father laughed as he made sure everyone at the table got their piece of the sliced peaches. I quickly reached over to take my plate from his hands and placed it in front of me. A huge grin spread across my face as I sat and stared down at my little peach slice. I did not want to eat it right away. It is not because I could not have more but knew how special they were.

Terminating Adoption: Visual Memory 2

2009-08-30T23:57:00.004-04:00

It took a couple of years but I finished ESL and by the Third Grade I went from Flunking out of First and Second Grade to be a B Student by my Third Grade Class. I came here with No understanding of English. I did not speak English, did not think in English, and therefore, went to school everyday feeling disconnected and alone. I mainly watched other children and did a lot of listening. But it did not take long for me to put to practice my 'Broken' English and meet some friends in my First Year...I have one friend that is still in my life today. She was my First friend back in my First Year of school. I have to tell this story here.

In my first year, a little girl with blonde curls came up to me and asked to be my friend. I shook my head to tell her that I did not understand. She did not mind. She took her hand and placed it on me and repeated this, " You be my friend and I will be your friend. Our moms will meet and I will go to your house and you come over my house." It went something like that. Later that day, her mother called my mother to see who this new girl was in her daughter's class. My mother explained to her that I did not speak English and that maybe it would be awkward. My friend's mother had no problems with this barrier and told my mother that we were kids and it would be fine. After that call, we were best of friends in grade school.

These letters are from the President of Eastern Child Welfare Society,Inc. I received these letters in my first two years after Adoption. I used to read these letters repeatedly and was very excited to receive them each year. I remember asking my mother why they had stopped sending them after the first two had arrived. So I do not forget, my mother told me to write down any of the names of my family I remembered so that I would have them later. I wrote them on these cards and at night in my Diary that I kept in my room. I smile now looking at them because I had spelled them incorrectly. I smile also because I remember trying to sound them out as they were spelled.

Terminating Adoption: Visual Memory

2009-08-30T23:44:00.006-04:00

Terminating an Adoption

2009-08-28T12:39:00.008-04:00

An Article from: The New York Times
August 26, 2009, 1:00 pm

Terminating an Adoption
By Lisa Belkin
Regular Motherlode readers have already met Anita Tedaldi, who blogs at ovolina.com. She has written a few guest posts about being a military spouse. But she has never before written anything like this.

A few months ago, when another guest blogger wrote about secondary infertility, many of the comments were along the lines of “why don’t you just adopt?” and some of the responses were in the vein of “adoption is not always that easy.” In the middle of that I heard from Anita, who asked to share the story of D., her adopted son (she has used her real name here, but changed his), whom she raised for 18 months before she relinquished him to another family last year, when he was about two-and-a-half years old.

The termination of an adoption is a fraught topic, raising questions of love and loyalty and the definition of parenting. Anita’s tale will make some of you angry, but she hopes it will trigger a deeper understanding of how fragile and fierce the bonds of adoption can be.

My Adopted Son
By Anita Tedaldi

The first time I considered giving up D. I was lying alone in my oversized bed. It was about midnight, my children were asleep and my husband was deployed. I was so taken aback by my thoughts that I bolted upright, ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. It was dark, but I could see my silhouette in the mirror and I stared to see if I was looking at a demon instead of D.’s mother.

I ran to D.’s room, afraid that he was already gone. But he was there, lying on his Thomas the Train sheets, sucking his thumb and breathing evenly. I caressed his cheek with two fingers and he exhaled. “I love you little man,” I whispered, and kissed his forehead, swallowing down the knot in my throat. I went back to my room and sobbed into my pillow.

D. was my adopted son. He’s a little boy from South America who came to our home several months before that frightening night. He arrived through Miami International Airport on a Monday afternoon, and I was so anxious that on my six-hour drive to pick him up, I dug my nails into the steering wheel for the duration of the trip, leaving marks I can still see today. I couldn’t contain my excitement. After waiting many long months, I’d finally hold and kiss my son.

I had wanted to adopt for a long time, even before I met my husband or had my five biological daughters. I’ve always wanted a large family, like the one I grew up with in Italy, and I love the chaos and liveliness of many kids.

I did lots of research on adoption, including attachment problems and other complications that older adopted children can have. I spoke to my therapist and went through a thorough screening process with social workers to figure out if I, and my family, could be a good match for a child who needed a home. We were approved, and began the long wait for a referral. When they told us about D., I was ecstatic and convinced that I’d be able to parent this little boy the same way I had done with my biological daughters.

When he arrived in the U.S., our pediatrician diagnosed our son with some expected health issues and developmental delays. His age was not certain — he had been found by the side of a road — but the doctor estimated he was a little younger than one year. D. lacked strength in his legs and had a completely flat head, from lying in a crib so many hours a day. The first few weeks at home, people often asked me if he had experienced a brain injury. D. also suffered from coprophagia, or eating one’s own feces, which my pediatrician assured me the majority of children outgrow by the age of four. Most mornings, when I went to pick him up from his crib, I’d find him with poop smeared on his face and bedding.

But the physical or developmental issues weren’t the real problem. Five or six months after his arrival, I knew that D. wasn’t attaching. We had expected his indifference toward my husband, who was deployed for most of this time, but our son should have been closer to his sisters and especially to me, his primary caretaker.

His social worker, his pediatrician and his neurologist all told me that he had come a long way, and that attachment issues were to be expected with adoption. But D.’s attachment problems were only half the story. I also knew that I had issues bonding with him. I was attentive, and I provided D. with a good home, but I wasn’t connecting with him on the visceral level I experienced with my biological daughters. And while it was easy, and reassuring, to talk to all these experts about D.’s issues, it was terrifying to look at my own. I had never once considered the possibility that I’d view an adopted child differently than my biological children. The realization that I didn’t feel for D. the same way I felt for my own flesh and blood shook the foundations of who I thought I was.

I sought help and did some attachment therapy, which consisted of exercises to strengthen our relationship, mostly games because of D.’s age. He fell in my arms many times throughout the day, we sang songs, read books, repeated words while we made eye contact. We built castles and block towers and went to a mommy and me class.

Still, I struggled. One day (I’m still not exactly sure what was different about that particular day) I was on the phone with Jennifer, our social worker, who merely asked “what’s up” when I blurted out that I couldn’t parent D., that things were too hard.

As soon as I said these words out loud, a flood of emotions washed over me, and I sobbed, clutching the phone with both hands. Jennifer didn’t say anything, she waited patiently, and when I had nothing left, she asked me to start from the beginning. We talked about my family; about the problems my husband and I were having with D. and, as a result, with each other; about the girls and their partial indifference toward D.; and about some of my son’s specific challenges.

For the next several weeks Jennifer and I spoke daily. She mostly listened and told me to focus on D.’s future and well being above everything else. Eventually I told her that I’d look at profiles of potential families, but stressed that I wasn’t committed yet, just considering options.

My thoughts and emotions were disjointed and came in waves. One moment I was determined to keep D. because I loved him. An instant later, I realized that I wasn’t the parent I know I could be, and that I should place D. with a better family, with a better mother.

As I wrestled with these demons, things remained very tense in my home; whenever my husband was stateside we fought incessantly. I felt I was swimming upstream until one early morning Jennifer called, and told me that she had found a great family for D. They had seen his pictures, learned about his situation, and fallen in love with him. The mom, Samantha, was a psychologist, and the family had adopted another boy with similar issues just a couple of years before.

I spoke to Samantha and her husband a few times on the phone and right off the bat I felt comfortable with them. During one of our conversations we decided that she’d come down to meet D. by herself, to ease the transition.

This meant that the decision was final. D. would leave my home.

While waiting for Samantha to arrive, Jennifer helped me to talk to my kids, to family members, even strangers, but most importantly she held my hand when it came to speaking with my son. I explained to him that he’d be joining his new family and that we loved him very much — that he had done nothing wrong. I don’t know how much he understood because of his young age and because he never reacted to my words.

For my first meeting with D.’s new mom, I was a wreck. I dressed D. in one of his cutest outfits, white polo shirt and blue khaki pants, strapped him in the car seat and took off to meet Samantha at a nearby McDonald’s.

The car ride was short, but each time I approached a traffic light, grief assailed me, and I turned around, determined to head back home and keep D.

The five-minute trip turned to a 30-minute journey, and when I finally made it to the McDonald’s parking lot I was frazzled. My hands were shaking, my mouth was dry, and my eyes were red. Samantha recognized us as soon as we got out of the car and rushed over. Her eyes lit up the moment she approached D., and she lowered herself to his height to hug him.

Over the next few days Samantha and D. got to know each other, and then it was time for him to leave with her. That morning, I awkwardly let her into the house and willed time to stop. With my hands shaking, I handed her D.’s bag and some of his favorite toys. My daughters were watching SpongeBob and said goodbye to their brother almost nonchalantly, as if he was just going out for a bit and would soon be back.

I opened the front door of my home in slow motion. It felt heavy and my feet stayed glued to the ground. Samantha told me she’d give me a few minutes alone with D. and quickly walked to her car. I kneeled down and pulled D. close to me, desperately wanting to impress an indelible memory of my son on me, and me on him, inhaling his scent, feeling his soft skin and touching his coarse hair. In our last moments together, I stared into his eyes and told him that I loved him and that I had tried to do my best.

His new mom would love him so, so much; my little man would be OK.

He didn’t cry, he stared back at me, then looked to Samantha and asked for more juice. I was too overwhelmed to utter another word, but Samantha squeezed my hand and reassured me that D. would know I had loved him and that I had done a good job.

The next few weeks I felt a mix of emotions, desperation, relief, sadness, guilt, shame, and acceptance. After a couple of months at Samantha’s home, I learned that D. was doing well and adjusting to his new life. He was struggling with some issues, but I know that Samantha and her husband are the best parents D. could possibly have. They went to great lengths to legally adopt him, to welcome him into their home and provide him with the best care he can receive. The fact that he also has a sibling who has dealt with similar issues has made the transition easier. Samantha told me that D. can’t get enough of his brother or his dad’s attention.

My husband had originally asked me not to write about D., because I’d only open myself up to criticism. But I wrote this essay because D. taught me a lot about myself and about parenting and because I hope that by sharing this experience others can feel less alone in their failures. D. deflated my ego by showing me my limitations. Because of my little man, I have more compassion for the mistakes we make as parents, and I’m far less willing to point my finger at others’ difficulties.

I’m still processing this experience and I think I always will.

I don’t have anything left from D.’s time with us. Samantha didn’t want D.’s clothes, I think she preferred to make a fresh start, so I donated everything to the Salvation Army. We don’t have D.’s pictures around because my husband thought it’d be too difficult, but in my wallet, I carry a small close-up photo of D.’s face, which I took after his first haircut at a barber shop. When I think about him, I take it out and look into his big dark eyes as a deep endless sadness fills my heart.

Thank you little D. for all that you’ve been to me, to us. Despite my failures, I loved you the best way I could, and I’ll never forget you.

Copyright 2009 The New York Times Company Privacy Policy NYTimes.com 620 Eighth Avenue New York, NY 10018

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I found this article in The Third Mom Blog this Morning. I have read it over a few times and it makes me wonder how this has effected everyone involved on all sides..especially little D.

When I was first adopted, my Mother had told me that if things did not work out in my new home I was able to go back to Korea but we would have to really try to make it work and know that to return to Korea was the BEST decision. I don't remember if those were her exact phrases but I believe that is how I took her proposal.

And there were many time in my early years that I wanted to go home, usually when there was a fight, argument, or discontentment from our 'barriers'. My Mother would tell me that the letters I had received from the Head of Eastern Child Welfare Society every holiday was to let me know that they did not forget about me. During the rough times, I wanted to write to Dr. Kim (President) and let him know how I felt and that I was ready to go home. I cannot remember how my Mother handled my requests but know that she somehow reassured me things would get better here and eventually I kept these letters to remember that one day I may go home to Korea.

Aside from these initial hard times, after the first couple years, my Family no longer really discussed my past nor encouraged any related subject matter regarding my past, family, and Korea. And in some regard, I no longer really showed signs that I cared to discuss or needed to go back to my family or anybody else. In the early childhood years that followed, I 'blended' into my family and tried to do the same in school. I am not saying that 'events' or 'things' did not come up throughout my early years that brought my thoughts back to those feelings of 'displacement' or ' 'identity' issues. But it was in those first couple of years that seemed to have hit 'us' all very hard. It was in many ways difficult to adjust..not just for me but for everyone in my new family.

So, I am reading this article and wondering how I feel about this. I wanted to jot a comment under it in the Third mom blog but feel compelled to write more than a comment...maybe perhaps, a point of view from Little D. I know Little D cannot do this but then perhaps from another adoptee's view of her own experience in the first stages after adoption.

I do not believe my Parents had any idea what kind of background I had except the one from my Adoption papers. They did not know that I was going to be a little fireball with a mouth that could really fire back..in Korean and later in English. They did not prepare themselves to discover the amount of issues that would follow concerning my sense of displacement, identity, and attachment issues. It took some hard fights, harsh words, and tears for us to come through the initial post adoption stage.

I want to share that I did not accept my Father here for some time as well. In part, because I felt I had a Father that I did not want to let go of nor forget. And I was not afraid to express this to him when I was upset. I know this must have hurt him but at the time I did not look at it in his perspective, after all, I was only 7 years old. And my anger, when I felt it, was my only defense from the pain I felt and the frustration that came from the culture shock, having to re-attach once again, and feelings of rejection.

And even through these hard times, the one I accepted immediately into my heart, was my Mother. Perhaps, because I did not have a Mother growing up and needed one or because she was the one that I felt closest to as soon as I had landed in the States. She was the one that we all went to for all situations that occurred in our house. And since she was a stay home Mother, and I had skipped the first year of school, we were together always. Therefor, I attached myself quickly to her.

I think of the 'what ifs''. What if my parents gave up on us and felt it was too difficult and realized that the dynamics of raising a 'trans-racial' adoptee was more difficult than they ever imagined. What if, they saw how difficult this impacted not only me but the whole family in the initial post adoption and relinquished me back to Korea.

I have to say that I played with these thoughts many times. I wished many moments that this was exactly what they should have done over the years. Especially during my first post adoption year and later in my Teens. For my Parents, I cannot truly speak for them and do not agree on all their methods of how they raised me but am happy that they did not give up on me and us. I do not like to use 'grateful' for many reasons which I may go into later but am truly happy that I am here.

That is not to say that I do not have longings and desires that seem to float up and dissipate into my dreams. Nor does it negate any of the hard times that follow personally in my life. I think of how my life would be if they had sent me back to Korea. How it would effect my sense of belonging and attachment. My feelings of displacement. And my need to know the meaning of 'HOME'. I do not know these answers of course, but I ask myself, would I be here with my family I love, with the Reunions we have made, and the Journey that I have made thus far. Would I be writing to you here...and would I have accepted myself and my life as I do now.

Something for me to think about. Something for other perspective Adopting Parents to think over and for us all to understand and to respect that which follows.

So my Brothers will hear this message across this sea and into their Hearts...

2009-08-28T02:23:00.001-04:00

The year is 1979 and my sister is leading me down the corridor of the adoption agency. I have already told her that I did not want to go but I follow her understanding that I would be leaving for a place called America. As I leave her, I promise her that I will make her happy. We come to a room with many people inside waiting with their smiling faces and books in their hands. There, I sit with strangers and later taken to more rooms for others to look at me, take notes, and ask questions.

As we walk, my mind is revisiting to what seems to be our last family gathering but I cannot see the faces of my sister, KyungOk, and of my brothers. I see my eldest sister taking me over to a small brick wall. She bends down and smiles at me. She places her hands on my arms and begins to tell me what will soon become my destiny. I do not look at her. I see past my sister to focus on the red bricks and the round black grapes that hung down on their vines. The grapes are lying down, hanging ripe and full. My sister continues to tell me our family history. I do not know why she is telling me this. I see her smiling but I could see she is upset.

I watch as children in the yard run pass the brick wall as they grab the grapes that hung down low. My sister takes her hands and presses them strongly on my arms and tells me to listen and to pay attention. I look up at her and then look away at the grapes again. She begins to talk to me about our parents, our sister, and brothers. I hear her explain how I can not go to live with my brothers. I am told that she has not been able to reach them. She then holds me close and tells me how wonderful America is and where it is. She explains how the people live and what I must do. I do not understand her but shake my head to please her. She smiles and tells me that no one must know; at least at the party.

My mind returns as I am taken down this hallway again. As we walk, we pass a bin full of stuff toys. I smile as I see a Bert and Ernie Doll lying on top of the overstuffed basket. I can hear people sitting in the waiting room talking about many things. Their voices came and faded away as I was taken back and forth by the social workers. Then, I hear her voice, my sister is talking to someone, and I try to hear as I am led away. I hear their voices and hear the names of my brothers.

The voices tell the story that my Brothers answered her call and agreed to have me back into their lives. They are ready to take me into their home and care for me. My sister is afraid that they will not carry out her wishes like the other times that I had been in their care. They tell her that they are ready for me and that she should not let me go. But my sister does not believe them and does not answer their last call. She decides what she must do and brings me to this place that would become our last impression and our farewell. I remember feeling angry that day. I cannot tell others later on in my life if we had cried together on our last day we saw each other.

After some time living with my Foster Parents I am sent overseas to live with my American Family. Here, once I arrive, I tell my translator, Sunny, how I had come to arrive to the States. I tell my story of my Foster Parents, the Agency, and my sisters and brothers. I tell her about that day at the agency and how I heard my brothers wanted to take care of me.

For the years that followed, I dreamed of my wonderful brothers. I revisited the memories of my brother, KyungJin, the most. It seemed all my memories of him were filled with happy times and playful moments. I remembered him with kind and gentle manner. He seemed quiet but protective of his younger sisters. My memories of my oldest brother, KyungSun, carried images of mischief and influence that pressured my other brother to follow his footsteps. Then, my mind takes me back to the time my two oldest siblings fought and how KyungJin would always go away with my oldest brother following him in and out of our lives. I think back to the big fight that I later determined to be the cause of the separation between our siblings.

Some people would say that my young mind had distorted my past into what I wanted to believe, remember, and perhaps, they are right. Growing up, I wondered how this young mind could hold onto so many memories and stories that were told whether it was from my sisters, brothers, or my foster parents. What I do know is that these memories were all I had of my past and I did not want them to fade away. So, in the first couple years after I had arrived to the States, I recalled them every night before I would fall asleep. I would even tell other children stories of my family until I realized they had no clue to what I was explaining to them. It had dawned on me later that I had been raised very differently in Korea and even my early memories of playtime were a world apart. In time, I stopped talking about my Korean family with them.

I am told that perhaps I wanted to believe I had heard this story of my Brothers wanting to take care of me. And to this day, I still do not know how this story followed after my departure. If these thoughts were only dreams, I wondered over the years, how my life would have played out if I had remained in Korea with my Brothers. What would our lives be like? Growing up, I had many endings to these thoughts and images. I played with the endless possibilities of how they would have raised me, and ultimately, I questioned if they would have placed me in Foster care or adoption later on in my life.

I pondered these thoughts and told myself that I would still be living in Korea even if I was taken in by other Foster families. I ask myself, if I would be happier knowing I never left my roots and my native tongue.

So, I am back in 1980. My mother kisses me on my head and tucks the blanket tightly under my bed. I close my eyes, and dream of my brothers that lives across this great sea. I tell them of my life here and my wishes for them to hear. I remember my sister’s story but I do not know what is real. I lie on my bed and I see my brothers. I hope they will hear me. I hope they will come for me. I hope until I fall asleep.

My First Letter from my Little Brother Monday, August 24, 2009 10:28 am

2009-08-24T11:57:00.004-04:00

My First Letter from my Little Brother Monday, August 24, 2009 10:28 am

M*** sent you a message.--------------------Subject: lucky day

hello dear sister
yes it's me !!!!!!i'm very happy that u find me a few months ago i got a letter that told me that my family was searching me that was a great surprise there was only one problem my contact person was my nephew the son of my oldest sister i think and he can't write english because i got an email from him in korean now i had luck because i met a few years ago a korean girl here in holland and still have contact with her on msn and she could translate it so i heard that i have a sister in the usa but they lost contact with u i'm very glad that u found me now u hear more from me very soon i have one important question am i twins??????????????????????????????????
big kiss en hugs from me

**** I felt I needed to share this letter with everyone to give HOPE and encouragement in the search for their Families much like the letters I had posted earlier of my Sisters. I had refrained from posting the other letters from them since these hold it's purpose. How incredible this Journey has been!!!!

Sending my Thanks To GOAL and KSS for locating my Little Brother who was adopted to The Netherlands!

2009-08-24T10:12:00.010-04:00

I would like to thank GOAL and KSS for all their effort and quick response to our messages! I am still overwhelmed and taking everything in from the emails I had received last night from KSS and GOAL. About 1 week ago, another adoptee, of A Piece of my Seoul, suggested that I write an email to GOAL to inquire about my Brother who was adopted to the Netherlands as an Infant. I explained to her that my family in Korea were looking for him and in all honesty, I felt lost and did not know how to go about this search. She told me to start with GOAL and later gave me other suggestions even with the very little information I had. Knowing that I had lost contact with my family in Korea for the last two years as well, I knew I had to do this...I had no way of knowing if they had found him or not.

I emailed GOAL this letter below on August 16,2009. To receive two emails last night stating that they had located my little Brother! They also were able to talk to my family in Korea and give me their current contact information. I would like to share these correspondences with you. And to tell again how amazing these Organizations and Agency has been to find him and to be so quick to reply back to my email! How amazing...I just wrote about my Twin Brothers, of how times has changed with Agencies and Records of then and now (Agencies seeming more proactive and sensitive to the needs of Adoptees and their AP's) to then only days later, receive this help. I am waiting to hear back from my Brother. My mind is filled with so many thoughts. I am just so happy to have found him! And for him to have found me! Please do not let the feelings discouragement or insecurities hold you back from initiating your search!

To bfs@goal.or.kr , Date Sunday, August 16, 2009 11:45 pm

First, thank you for reading this email. I recently became aware of your organization through blogging on the Internet. I am trying to locate my youngest brother, Yoo, Kyung Lee or Yoo, Kyung Ill (유경이 or 유경일). They were twin brothers that I did not know I had until I had reunited with my siblings in 2004 in Korea. You see, I was adopted to the States around 1979 through The Eastern Adoption agency in Seoul. My eldest sister had placed me for adoption sometime after my parents had passed away. My twin brothers were born around 1976 and were placed through either Holt or Eastern Welfare Agency. I do not know this piece of information because my sister cannot tell me exactly how and where they went. But I do know that they were taken to an agency as infants. While they were there, one had passed away due to being too weak. The one that had survived went to an agency in The Netherlands. From there, he was adopted by a family.

I am new to how this works. Don't get me wrong, growing up I have tried to contact Eastern Welfare Agency to find my family but could not communicate in Korean. I did not have the family support to find them. It wasn't until our honeymoon that my husband and I found my siblings. It all happened within three days with the help of our tour guide. It was truly a miracle/fate because we went with a one single lead that led us to find everyone but my brother that I never knew I had. My family in Korea told me that they were researching to find him but I had no contact from them in two years. This is a loss I feared would happen and am trying to see how I can find my family in Korea again as well as my brother in The Netherlands.

I have recently created a blog to tell my story and to connect with other adoptees. There I have some photos of my siblings in Korea and myself as well. I don't know if that would help but it is there if you need to look at it. The address is : http://homeiswithin.blogspot.com

I am very grateful if you and your organization can help me find my brother. If I am contacting the wrong person, please redirect me to the correct contact. Thank you. ***(KyungMee)

From 한국사회봉사회-Korea Social Service.Inc.

Dear Ms. *********,

I am K***** of Korea Social Service where your brother, YOO Kyung Il's adoption to the Netherlands was done back in 1975. And last week we were forwarded your email from GOA'L with a request to find your brother in the Netherlands as well as your Korean family.

Upon your request, we contacted your oldest sister, YOO Kyung Sook, who was very happy to hear about you. In fact, your Korean family asked us for some information about Kyung Il in the Netherlands a couple years ago and last year we got a response from him for his Korean family. Since he has written his contact information in his letter, we think he has been in contact with them so far. For your interest, we would like to share his email address******.
When we called your sister, she said she has lost contact with you since about 2 years ago. And she was very eager to be in touch with you again asking us to give you her email address, ****** and her cell phone number, *********. Actually the email address is her nephew. But since they live very close to each other, she can get the email from him easily.

We hope you will be in contact with your Korean family as well as your brother in the Netherlands.

Best regards!

(Ms.)K******
Korea Social Service, Inc.

Monday, August 24, 2009 12:32 am
From G**** from GOAL

Congratulations on the good news!!! I replied to your mail some days ago but just received it today as returned undelivered. After receiving your mail I had forwarded it to KSS as all adoption to the Netherlands is done through KSS. Your information about your brother being adopted the Netherlands was a big clue.

Please come and visit us if you come to Korea. I really would like to meet you after these mails. Just for your information, we translate letters and we have volunteers for when you are in Korea and need an interpreter.

Congratulations once again :)

G******.

Journey Within: Visual Memory

2009-08-23T11:32:00.005-04:00

Found within the Adoption Records that were given to my Parents in 1980.

Journey Within

2009-08-23T11:14:00.013-04:00

I have always felt my life is a journey that takes me through various landscapes continuously unfolding into new terrain. It guides me like a map through the long winding paths, and the valleys that lay below. My life takes me forward through the ever changing scenery. It gives me new meaning and direction that sometimes can be misleading. As my history is taking form, I often stop; look up to the sun, and then ahead. I see that my life feels full but when I look down at my life I see that I have no roots. With all the joys I have felt, tasted, and loved, I ask myself why I feel my existence in this world goes no further than the words that were written in 1979.

I was not an infant at the time of my adoption. That is known for it clearly states this on the adoption forms. It tells me that I was born in 1973 and that by 1979, I was handed over to the adoption agency by my eldest sister to be placed for overseas adoption. From there, I take with me, my childhood and my memories. I begin my journey from one side of the world to fly above the clouds to land under a new sun. Upon my arrival, I must learn to talk and walk again on this new earth.

For the years that follow, I learn to eat, play like other children, and learn how I should behave. It is all foreign to me but time only allows you to continue your journey forward. And as a child who is learning to do everything all over again, my mind starts anew and I feel myself vanishing from within. As time goes by, my tears are replaced with new memories and a new life that I grow to accept and embrace.

But no matter how much I embraced my new life, thoughts of my Identity and existence is never too far behind. I could not escape them. Questions regarding my life prior to my arrival always seemed to fall upon me, even at a young age. A few simple words of wonder would rain upon me, drenching me as if to weigh me down, to fall onto the earth, to see that my roots have been cut.

To tell you my story, I have to travel back through these roads...back to my elementary years, only a short period after my adoption. During those times, many people would gather around me with all their curiosity and wonder. Mothers, Fathers, and peers stare onto me, taking notes on my appearances, my verbal skills, and my ability to recall my childhood.

I speak to them recounting my past, my life that was foreign even to me. They ask, “How far back can you remember? How old were you when adopted? When were you born?” I think back to that other life and tell them my memories and the stories of my family. I often received a reaction that was of disbelief. People would want to know but later declare that I was much too young to remember. After all, I was only Six years old when I had come to live in the States. They discredit my life. They would erase the few memories that held together my existence and my spirit by negating my truth.

No! I tell them. I would stand there and correct everyone around me and reply, "I was seven when I left Korea." Seeing my defiance, my mother at times turned to the papers and state I was born in 1973. I feel she is unsure herself but I accept her answer. I begin to believe and accept the Identity that was written and given to my family.

I do not believe it was a conscious decision, but perhaps, one that needed to take place so I could merge into this new world. People do not give the young the credit of understanding the world that surrounds them. Of how they interpret their world and how they desire to make sense of it. For me, I wanted to have this beginning like other children. I wanted to see pictures of myself of when I was born. To see a timeline, the pathways that show us our beginnings, and that of our past.

As years came and passed, I quickly adapted to my new life. I laughed and played mirroring the other children I met. I ignored the subtle differences of our toys, games, and language that we shared as children. I learned quickly to fight back any racial name calling in school and the bullying that came with it. Everything would fall into place until a new year would start again and a teacher would ask, "Where is your family tree with photos? Please tell everyone a little about yourself. Are you not adopted? What was your name? What country was is it, again? Please tell the class when you came to live with your Family. How old were you?"

Here I am back in that uncertain place again. I realize that I am different but more importantly I no longer know my origins. I tell them my story of adoption and how my family had lived. I tell them my age in Korea and my age here. They look at me as if I am crazy. I decide to skip the part about my age for the following year. I tell my class I do not remember much of when I was young. I tell them briefly of what might have happened to my family in Korea. I explain that I was Six when I was placed for adoption.

My story and explanations of my past did not change much over the years. It was guided by the same motivation that was born very early in my childhood. As I moved forward, traveling new roads that my adolescence would bring me, I learned to talk about my past and welcomed the questions that came from it. I spoke of my childhood in Korea whether I felt it was of dreams or of reality. I came to believe, in all these years, no matter how centered I felt, I was still lost. It is a concept that bewildered not just others but myself. How could one’s Identity be intact no matter how much self esteem one has, if you do not have a true beginning?

So, I am drawn to those doubtless astrological signs. I tell myself, I would learn everything I need to know about 1973 to see if the signs all match my personality and traits. I even find myself in my early twenties visiting regularly to have my hands read or my aura seen to tell of my past and my future. I find it fun and intriguing.

To not know your true astrological sign, your birth sign, or the date you were conceived takes you to the outer limits of your very own existence. My memories recall my siblings calling me by one age to later being told of another. I think to myself throughout my life, that perhaps, in the process of bridging languages in my earlier childhood I had confused and scrambled my thoughts to piece them together with misguided memory. But, then I remember. It is all there. I remember what my Mother had told me. My adoption papers, my Birth records, state that I was born on August 20th, 1973. And written by it, it states “Presumptive”.

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Rendered into English Quatrains by Edward FitzGerald

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on:nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

More on Adoption Movies

2009-08-23T10:08:00.005-04:00

Just a note for everyone! There are so many great movies coming out of Korea and new movies that feature aspects of it's rich culture, events, and of the lives of the Korean People. Among these movies, there are some to take notice. The new Movie from Korea called, "Mother" and the rental "The Way Home". And in the theme of Adoption Movies...I found on another Adoptee Blogger's site, A piece of my Seoul, another movie/documentary on Adoption that looks into the lives of the adoptees and the Families that adopt. Something I will check out myself! Hope you can go visit her site and view it yourself.

Approved For Adoption: The Movie To Be Released 2010

2009-08-19T17:32:00.007-04:00

I felt compelled to add this as it's own post even though I had linked a YouTube Video Clip of this movie, Approved for Adoption, to the list of LINKS OF INTEREST on my Blog. I had found this clip on another adoptee website (the name I cannot recall at this moment). I find this video clip to be so very beautiful and telling of this man's journey into his past. Yes, it is only a clip but in only a two minute trailer, you get the feel of the story and impact this journey has on his life. Not forgetting that the animation and style of the film is wonderful! Immediately, I felt drawn to it and felt it was representing aspects of my life. Of how this movie will impact the lives of so many Korean Adoptees out here...EVERYWHERE. Of how it will open the EYES of so many others who watch this film. I wish Jung and the producers of this film the BEST! I am hoping it will reach us here in the States.

My Childhood Book One by Maxim Gorky

2009-08-19T14:50:00.019-04:00

From a young age, I found myself drawn to authors like Maxim Gorky. I must have been around 13 years old when I found this book in a used book shop on South Street in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I was taken by his ability to understand his innocence, the dreams and regrets of others, and the dynamics of the world that surrounded and guided him from childhood into adulthood. I immediately felt comforted by his words. The impressions left onto him from his gathered life experiences and how this gave shape and insight to his understanding of the world around him.

For me, this was a beginning of my own journey. In my attempt to understand his world, I was learning about mine. The more I read the more my own life began to unfold. Mirroring the book of old musty and brittle pages, my mind at first carefully took steps to clear a path towards what was once hidden. Then, like sudden madness, my memories came forth. Pages turning, giving me only glimpses to what was to be read. Words and images all fell around me to coat me in it's color and form. It gave way to new roads that would lead me back to my past and to give shape to my future.

So, I would go to my room and read more and more...I was engulfed in his past. The more I read the more I wanted to remember my own. I welcomed it regardless of my own fears. I wrote them down to not forget them again. I tried to revisit no matter how fast the pages had turned and moved forth onto new visions. My mind was awakening and I so desperately needed to know what was fiction and what was my life.

I did not welcome this new chapter in my life with much ease and comfort. I was scared and confused. The thoughts that would rush in and out of my mind left me angry and feeling alone. I had no one to turn to, no one who could define my past and secure my ground. I was lifted up into my memories and into an obscure place that I felt I had created all on my own. It had no beginnings and left only vague impressions of who and where I had come from. It was the origin of my two worlds.

Impoverished Generosity: Part Three

2009-08-17T01:34:00.013-04:00

Poverty. When I was young, I tried to recall and remember when I knew poverty existed. When was it recognizable to me. As a young child, did I realize what it was when I saw it. Did I comprehend this as it played out in my own life? I knew enough to tell people 'we' were poor when I lived in Korea. Why not? When I lived in Korea with my sister, she had placed this concept into my thoughts. Once, I arrived to the States, I saw how different 'Americans' lived..like my family. As soon as I arrived, all I could see were multi-level houses with many rooms, much like the house I was about to move into.

My first impressions that confirmed this fact was the TVs, all the furniture, cars and toys. My sister's story of America was true. Once I arrived to the States, I realized that I was going to live in a big house much like the one of my First Foster Mother..even bigger. One thing I did after I had moved into my new Home was to get down on my knees and show that I could be a good cleaner and helper. I got down on my knees and pretended to wash. My mother was taken by this and quickly illustrated to me that I did not have to clean. They gave me toys and showed me how to play with them. Then, I remember, seeing a lady visit to clean their house. In my mind, this confirmed everything I was told.

Well, that is how I interpreted it when I was young and only 7 years of age. These impressions were more of an understanding attaching itself to what was already placed in my thoughts. I think about this and realize that my very first impressions of this concept came much earlier without any previously set notion from anyone. I realize that aside from my sister's talks and my impressions thereafter, I had witnessed things that I would never forget and perhaps, would influence my life.

One memory, that had always haunted me and had played out in my dreams was the image of seeing old men in their tattered clothing and bags, spread out in a line, stretched across the walls of the underpasses in Seoul. In my dreams, I can see their faces and expressions. I feel their sorrow, pain, and regrets. Sometimes, in different variations of my dreams, I see the Fathers holding onto their families, holding them so close not realizing that they are suffocating, that they are slowly dying of hunger and weakness. The other is the one from the previous post about the kind man that gave me his sesame candy.

I know that witnessing these images did not enlighten me during my childhood. But the images did speak to me when I was there. It had impacted my life, my thoughts, and how I would think about the effects of poverty on the individual, family, and community further down my life.

It is interesting to note that no matter how tough it was for my family (even facing homelessness and displacement ourselves), I never compared it with the images of the old men. As a child, I used my imagination to escape the signs of personal hardship while the images of the homeless were left aside to later be found and defined as Poverty.

Impoverished Generosity - Part Two

2009-08-16T14:26:00.012-04:00

It was mid-day. Yes, I tell myself I do know this. I peered through my very own rectangular window to see the sun sitting up high over the sky. It was the third seat in from the front of the old bus. This was where I sat, waiting like everyone else there to reach our very own destination. I do not remember who had sat next to me nor who had put me on that bus. Perhaps, it was my eldest sister or my foster mother. I can see her sitting one row in front of me talking to the driver. I see her hair sitting just above her shoulders, curled upwards and waving in the little breeze that slipped through the open windows. She does not turn around. Like a dream, I revisit this memory to see her face hoping that this time it would all become clear. Then I realize, this memory did not survive in my thoughts to see the face behind the image nor to know my destination. It was there to remember what I had experience during that bus ride in Seoul.

The ride felt forever to me. It was hot and over crowded. I sat there on the very edge of my seat anticipating for our stop to arrive. I looked out and around the bus catching the faces and expressions of the people around me. Some smiled back and I looked away as quickly as possible. I repeated this as if a game until boredom came back around again. Not knowing what to do next, I decided to look back out the window . My stomach began to rumble so I glanced up to see if she had noticed. I hunched back down into my seat frowning to show my impatience.

It was then, across from me, one seat up, I saw a man sitting alone and staring right at me. At first, I was scared but found myself staring back at him. He was an older man. He could be my harabulgi (할아버지). He looked at me with tired eyes, grey hair, and torn clothes. He sat there, leaning into the aisle with his elbows resting on his legs. I looked past him to see all his bags that sat next to him bulging out from the clothes and papers he had in them. My eyes went from the bags to his hands. In his hands, he held a sweet sesame candy still wrapped in it's foil.

He sat there twisting the ends of the foil with his fingers acknowledging the fact that I was fixed on his candy. I stared into the sesame candy, studying it, knowing how good and sweet it would be in my very own tummy. My eyes followed it up and down as he moved his hands as if to tease me. I did not smile at him. I rather stared at him very intently as if I was telling him with my eyes that I clearly wanted his candy. He lifted his head slightly and smiled even though he did not receive one in return. He took the sesame candy into one hand and lifted his arm as if to put it away into his pocket, but then, to my surprise, he leaned over and handed me the candy. A smile appeared across my face as I grabbed the candy from his hand. He smiled again and turned to look out his window. Feeling so happy, I held the sesame candy in my hands and stared at the seeds that was held together by it's taffy. I placed it under my nose to smell the sweet flavor. I took the candy and pressed it between my fingers to feel the bumps from the sesames. Feeling very pleased, I quickly opened the wrapper to eat it.

Impoverished Generosity -Part One

2009-08-13T21:35:00.010-04:00

We sat around the small wooden table in her home eating, listening, and smiling at all the faces that sat around the little room. I was taking it all in, her home, the assortment of food, and their wonderful faces. She has changed and was now sitting there in front of me, as an older sister who has matured over the years. I wanted to know her past, her dreams, the stories from her life. Who was this man sitting so peacefully at her side comforting her. He seems like a gentle man. I want to know how long they have been married. What had happened to her child? Does she have more children? Finally, I wanted to know desperately, why was I adopted. In the mist of all my thoughts, my heart told me nothing was more important than the time we were sharing sitting around this table.

But I was impatient. I needed to hear the answers to my questions in fear that I may never hear them. I leaned over to Louie, our Tour Guide, and asked him to translate. He advises me that it was too soon and improper to ask such personal questions. I thought about what he had said but requested only moments later to at least ask why I was adopted. I would wait to hear her story that followed after our separation but I could not wait any longer for that one question I had lived with for so long. Once he spoke to her, she paused then looked at me. A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind as if to win her answer. My heart was ready. I looked at her and smiled. Giving her the look that reassured her that her little sister, KyungMee, was strong and able to hear her words.

Louie turns to us and begins her story. He tells us that we were all very happy even when times had seemed at it's worst. She explains to him that we were comfortable for the most part and that she had to work very hard to raise all of us. Back then, she was maybe only 20 years old. But times did become rough not just for us but for many in Korea. It was the late '70s and there was no work. She tells him, she tried to keep us together but did not know how. That she was young and afraid. She had to make very grown up decisions and did what she thought was best at the time.

My heart sank. My thoughts were matched with an answer. An answer that was most likely to win. An answer that tells me to feel grateful. My eyes fill up with tears and I try to hold back from crying, to remain composed. I tell myself, I am ready to forgive her - I had already forgiven her. Then, she tells Louie to explain what had happened and of her guilt. Louie, shares with us that soon after she had placed us for adoption, things got better. That we only were 'very poor' for that short period prior to the adoption. My sister now cries. I cry too. I forgive her. I understand her guilt. How heavy it must have been all those years. I wonder how our past, her guilt, and her dreams had played into her life. I would wait longer to hear her history.

Carrying Guilt Continue...

2009-08-12T21:57:00.010-04:00

I am sitting here in front of my computer wondering how I should tell this story. I realized earlier that I had completely forgotten when the story of my twin brothers was told. I feel I have a mental block, something holding back this memory. I asked my husband to recall our honeymoon and the day we learned of my brothers..and nothing. He remembered hearing of them while we were in KyungOk's home but I am not sure. I too, feel that is where it occurred but am concerned that there is no certainty. I went through my photo albums and hoped I had written down the events that led to our discovery to only find that I had written down a line or two of mentioning my brothers. To some it may not seem that important to remember the details of a memory, but for me and perhaps others, it is the only original source to their personal history.

Twin Brothers

My twin brothers. Much like my past, they come to me with no concrete definite answers but only more questions. While we were in Korea in 2004, I tell my sister, KyungSook, how I had always felt responsible for my Mother's death. How I carried this guilt for so many years. My sister speaks to our translator and he tells us that my Mother did not pass away after I was born..or at least not right away. She had died a few years later after she gave birth to twin boys. When they were born, I was at least three or four years old. After giving birth, my Mother's blood pressure had dropped and she later died of low blood pressure.

My sister explains that after my Mother passed away, she and my Father tried to care for all of us. The responsibility was overwhelming for my Father and my sister. KyungSook, continues to explain that she suddenly had to care for four boys and two little sisters. She had to cook for the family and work. They realized quickly that the best and only thing to do was to place my brothers up for adoption. They were given over to the care of the adoption agency around 1975-76. The names given to them were Yoo, KyungLee and Yoo, KyungIll (유경이 and 유경일). My sister tells the translator that they were given names one and two.. since they were twins.

Our brothers came into our lives and then were taken away before we had the chance to know them. I could not believe I was hearing this story of my twin brothers. My emotions soared up with joy and then must have fallen into every word to understand the fate of our little brothers. Soon after they had arrived at the agency, one of the twins became weak and passed away while he was still in the agency's care. I learned that the other twin baby brother was sent to The Netherlands and was adopted by a family there.

After thirty years of believing that I was the youngest of five children, I discovered that I was an older sister to twin brothers. My sister explains to me that I was the youngest to them since my twin brothers were put up for adoption when infants. I felt very guilty that I had forgotten them. That I never knew of them. I also had a sense of relief that rushed over me. I did not cause my Mother's death. I would like to say the guilt I had carried for so long instantly disappeared but it did not - only relieved and troubled. Troubled and sadden to find out we had a baby brother that had passed and a little brother living somewhere in The Netherlands. He is no longer so little now..maybe around mid-thirties? In a single visit, in one conversation, my past was rewritten. We all take in my sisters' story as we face each other, understanding what we must do. We decided to find him but we do not know where to start. My brother, KyungJin, tells us that they will try to contact some agencies. And here is where we left off.

Carrying Guilt

2009-08-12T15:46:00.009-04:00

I was much too young to really comprehend the meaning of guilt. From a very young age, I did what I was told not knowing where it would all lead me but with some knowing that I would eventually go home. It was not until later, once I had come to live in America, that questions fell upon me, all wanting to know how, and why, I was adopted.

Prior to my adoption, I did not need to know these questions. I was in my homeland with my family. Even in the worst of times, I was able to escape, as many children do, whether it was running off to play in some field or drifting off into my imagination. Perhaps, if I had never been adopted, I would have grown and eventually come to question the events and decisions of my family members. And perhaps, I would learn guilt. But this guilt would be very different from the one I have carried all my life. It is not to say that it would be painless but the weight of such guilt would not carry me to the deep ends of two worlds. Eventually, I would be able to confront my guilt and perhaps, just perhaps, be able to talk to my sisters and brothers and learn the truth before the young mind grows older and the seeds to her darkest fears are rooted firmly in the heart and her memories.

As early as I can remember, maybe about one year after I had lived here in the States, in my adopted home, people began asking me many questions regarding my memories of my past. I believe this was at least one year post adoption, since it took about that long to be able to speak English. When family or strangers came to me, I was, I think , rather frank about telling 'my story'.

In some way, I recall, telling it quickly like it was no big deal, and then running off to play. When asked, I would tell them, " I don't remember my mother. She died after having me. My father, he died because my mother died. Then, there was a big fight. My sister went to live with a lady, my brothers went away, and I lived with my oldest sister. I lived with her until she got married. She had a baby. I cared for this baby and told him to always remember me when I was gone. My sister wanted to start her life with her family and told me to be good and that if I was good, worked hard, and be a good daughter, my new family would take good care for me. She told me how everyone was rich in 'America'. That I would be with a rich family and be happy.

This was my usual quick, 'let me tell you my story'. My mother asked at times as well, and she recalls hearing many stories but also remembers thinking and wondering what kind of 'history' I might of had prior to adoption. But ,eventually, I stopped telling my story and tried to 'blend' into my new 'world'. I do not believe it was a conscious decision (at least not totally) but it just happened. In my early elementary years, I quickly adapted and realized I was not going anywhere and that I was now part of this new family that I had come to accept and love. And, in some respect, maybe, I needed to be loved by them more. More than ordinarily possible...I needed my security. I needed to know...this was my home.

Home. Inside myself, divided by two worlds. One that was fading away, drifting out of reach. The other, I felt, could never quite embrace me. And, in this divide, I carried the guilt. I tried to understand why and how everything came to be. Every body's questions were now my own. I retraced my memories and revisited them often as the years went by. No matter how I looked into my past or what my parents or others would tell me, it always came down to one conclusion. If my Mother had not died, we would all be together. I grew up believing, knowing that she had died due to complications of giving birth. I knew I was the youngest of five and therefor, I was the cause of her death. How do I know this is true...my mother even verified the data. It was all there in the adoption papers. I was the youngest of five.

I rationalize this repeatedly in my head as I grew up. People reassured me of how hard it must have been for everyone in Korea. That we must have fell into some very hard times. I told myself that I was a baby and that I could not cause anything that terrible to happen. I was a child who knew and believed those words that throughout my life had reassured me. But I found myself there again and again, in the divide. Needing to know the answers. Playing out all my thoughts and endless possibilities. Wondering, if I was never born, then my mother would have never died, and my father would be alive. My family would be still together. What if she was very sick but did not die? Would we all be still together, living together, and healing together. Even if times were hard, would our unity make a difference? I felt terrible every time I went searching for the answers. Searching for her. And perhaps, this is why I never tried to remember her name, her face, and the memories of my mother and me. It was a guilt I did not want to be responsible for and over time, it was easier to accept the 'rational' answers to my mother's death and to what had led to my arrival.

KyungOk: Visual Memory Part Two Continue

2009-08-09T23:25:00.003-04:00

Let All Signs Lead Us There

KyungOk: Visual Memory Part Two

2009-08-09T22:55:00.007-04:00

Namdaemun Gate

Talk about Fate. We were very lucky to have found this building in 2004. Only now a few years later in 2008, the building was burned down by fire. My eyes filled with tears when I heard the story come on the Korean news that aired while I was shopping in a Korean grocery market.

I clipped this out of The Times CNN Article:

Wednesday, Feb. 13, 2008
Can Korea Protect Its Historical Sites?
By Jennifer Veale/Seoul
Lee Song Gun, a historian and researcher at the National Institute of Korean History, was reduced to tears when she first heard that the city's beloved Namdaemun Gate had burned to rubble on Monday. "It is our pride and joy, so I feel ashamed that this happened," she says. "We should have protected it more."
Korea's No.1 National Treasure, a colorful two-tiered wooden pagoda atop a stone base in the heart of the nation's capital, was reportedly set ablaze by a disgruntled elderly former fortune teller, Chae Jong Gi, who told the authorities who arrested him late Monday that the government had short-changed him in a land compensation deal.
The incident has sparked a furor among average citizens, politicians and historical conservationists, who are demanding to know why the 610-year-old landmark was inadequately safeguarded, especially in light of the fact Korea has already lost more than 90 percent of its traditional non-religious architectural sites over the last century. "There's so little left, it is just heartrending," says Peter Bartholomew, president of the Korea branch of the Royal Asiatic Society and an expert on medieval Korean architecture.
It appears Chae was able to enter the premises of the ancient gate fairly easily. According to police, the 70-year-old climbed over a wall and used a ladder to enter the pavilion Sunday night, and set the blaze using three bottles of paint thinner just before 9 pm. Like many of Korea's historical buildings, the ancient gate was guarded only until the early evening. At night, a security camera was in place to keep out intruders, although homeless people have often huddled in around the structure. But the gate didn't have smoke detectors, or a sprinkler system to combat a fire in the event that one broke out.
Various government bodies are now squabbling over who is responsible for what is widely perceived as a botched firefighting job. Some local media reports are saying firefighters left the ancient gate early on, mistakenly believing the fire was under control. Other reports claimed the firefighters had focused their hoses on the structure's roof — which is all but waterproof — while the fire took hold below. The firefighters say they were told by the Cultural Heritage Administration, a body charged with the care of the nation's national treasures, to temper their aggression in fighting the fire, in order to make sure Seoul's oldest wooden structure was left intact. The administration is refuting this claim, saying it instructed firefighters to do whatever was necessary to get the fire under control. On Tuesday, the head of the Cultural heritage Administration, Yoo Hong Joon, tendered his resignation, saying he would "take responsibility" for the blaze.
Experts are baffled over why authorities failed to protect the historic building, given Korea's wooden and other historical landmarks have been easy targets for disgruntled citizens in recent years. Chae, the suspected arsonist, was convicted in 2006 for setting fire to Seoul's Changgyeong Palace, a world heritage site, but received an 18-month suspended sentence. Another historical landmark, an 18th-century command post at Suwon City's Hwasong Fortress, was also set ablaze in 2006. "There is nothing more flammable than traditional Asian buildings," says Bartholomew.
Critics of Seoul's lackadaisical approach to conservation point out that Japan, another country with many historical wooden structures, has numerous measures in place to protect its national treasures, including sophisticated sprinkler systems. But money is an issue: Korea's preservation efforts are underfunded and "not enough attended to," says David Mason, a professor of Korean Tourism at Kyung Hee University. And low overall rates of vandalism in Korea could contribute to a sense of complacency over protecting its cultural sites. "Teenagers aren't brought up to see vandalism as cool form of self expression," Mason says, "and adults would never damage their ancestors' legacy without cause."
Having failed to save it, Seoul is planning to restore the monument as quickly as possible: an official at the Cultural Heritage Administration told media it would take about three years and $21 million to rebuild the gate. President-elect Lee Myung Bak has proposed that citizens kick in money for the construction. But until the Namdaemun Gate is rebuilt, its blackened pedestal will remain a reminder of the fragility of Korea's architectural legacy — and a litmus test of just how serious the 5,000-year-old culture is about preserving its remaining historical landmarks.

Streets of Seoul

Below, an entrance to the underground subway system. An experience in itself. They make it very easy to follow..even 'we' foreigners can read it and not get lost.

KyungOk..Continue.."Let all roads lead to her"

2009-08-09T17:52:00.016-04:00

Let all Roads lead to her

We had to do this. At least give it a try. I shook my head looking at my husband, telling him how crazy it was...a goose chase that I told myself I would never do. My hands pressed against the cool glass window as I peered past the rain drops that steadily hit the other side. My eyes fixed onto the traffic weaving in and out of the circular intersection. My mind slipped away from the conversation that took place up in the front seats of our Tour Guides van. My thoughts raced along side these cars to study their faces but they were moving too fast. They followed a steady stream of lights that signaled the roads that led them to their destinations .

Bridges, underpasses, subways, and brightly lit buildings lined up the streets. People talking on cell phones, carrying bags of laundry, food, or holding hands, were dashing from block to block. Who were they? What were their stories. Could they be her? Could they be my family? Impossible! Yet, I had to believe. What were the chances of finding a phone number in my Birth file and yet, Louie our Tour Guide, managed to find it in the mix of all those forms that created my past. I looked at the people, the buildings, and the cars. I watched for any signs that remained from my childhood.

We drove tracing unlimited possibilities and many streets that I could not recall. Louie repeated the question again, " ..was this building tall? What kind of flags hung on this building...how many?" I shook my head and closed my eyes to visualize the building, the cars, and the roads that led us to her. I saw myself in my first taxi ride. It was a yellow taxi. My eldest sister was sitting in the front. I was in the back. I could see myself looking out the window watching the buildings pass by as the driver drove to our destination. Then, it came to me. It is an image that repeated itself throughout my life and in my dreams. I tell him, " This building was tall? It was white..no grey? It had Flags from all over the world? There was a circular drive that went around the building. I know if I saw it, I would recognize it. I think it was an important building." He continued to drive but nothing familiar passed.

As we headed towards a new tourist site, I noticed the flags waving from the corner of my eyes! "Wait! There! That building...please stop." There, sitting in the middle of tall towering buildings that circled it, was the one from my dreams. Louie tells me that this was a very special building. That it has been there for many years. I tell my husband how this must be a dream. Anything is possible. As we stare up at the building, I tell Louie my story.

Our Last Goodbyes

The magnificent building sat waving it's flags with pride. My eyes did not leave the flags as we drove around the circle. The ride seemed long but my mind focused on the flags we had just passed. The taxi stopped, my sister paid the driver, and we stepped off to see in front of us a very tall house with many beautiful flowers. We followed the pathway that led us to it's great big door. Once inside, my eyes focused on the many plants that sat in small and large ceramic bowls that seemed to invite you into their first room. It was my first time seeing a house with more than one floor. The rooms seemed endless, filled with decorative seats and tables of every size. Decorations and mirrors hung upon the walls. Long drapes sloped against the large windows that looked out into a garden. I was very excited. The lady at the house smiled and told me to look around and to take a tour. My sister gave me a look as I ran off into the other rooms. I felt very giddy inside and imagined what it would be like to live there. I opened another door and saw a large porcelain bowl sitting inside. What was that? I knew it was something very rich people had in their homes. How lucky. Instead of running out to an outhouse or using their little porcelain bowl at night, they were able to use their big white porcelain seat that sat in it's very own room. As I left and shut the door to the the porcelain seat, my sister approached, leaving the lady behind in the adjacent room.

My sister took my hands and looked into my eyes and said these words to me, " KyungMee. I will be back. You must help your new Mother. Be a good little KyungMee. Listen to her. Be good and study hard. I will come back for you soon." I began to cry. My sister turned and walked out through the big front doors. The tears ran down my face blurring my vision. I could no longer see my sister.

From here, my memories jump. It leaps forward to only recollect a longing to go home. It holds pieces to a story that tells me I fulfilled my promise. I worked hard, helped to clean her clothes, helped her with the household chores, and assisted her to cook her meals. And in the end, I am happy, my sister returns to take me home.

Farewell, Awni KyungOk

It is years later, once we have reunited with my surviving siblings that I learn my sister, KyungOk, held onto a very special memory. She tells me in a letter that she remembers going to a rich person's home and all three of us sisters cried together. She tells me, that I give to her a ring and tell her to wear it. I tell her to remember me when we are apart. She tells me in her letter that day was the last time we ever saw each other again. She tells me that she revisited that day many times, wondering if her sister, KyungMee, was older than her, and thought how her sister, KyungMee, cared for her so much to give her that special ring.

She grew up not knowing why she had to live with her Foster Parent. She grew up wondering where we were and what we looked like. She forgot our faces, our ages, and her past. She soon thought her eldest sister must have died. She wondered where her brothers had gone. She wondered where her sister, KyungMee, lived. She carried in her, these questions, and her longing to find her siblings.

It is here, at this juncture, where our eldest sister, KyungSook, puts the pieces together. She explains to us that I had first gone to live with my First Foster Mother. But being so young, I could not keep up with all the chores alone. My First Foster Mother needed someone who could do everything without much assistance since she was not well. She had no one there to help her and needed someone to be there for her until her son had returned from the military.

My stay with her did not last long. My eldest sister returned as she promised, bringing with her my sister, KyungOk. Here, we meet to only say goodbye. This is now my sister's journey. From here, it is her memory. I forget ever leaving her behind. I forget our farewell. I forget the ring I had given to her. I do not remember our last hug together, all three of us..together.

In the end, she disappeared from my visions without explanations or endings. Only a few warm memories stayed attached throughout my life. Little did I know that my ending with First Foster Mother was the beginning to her new life.

KyungOk: Visual Memory Continue

2009-08-07T23:28:00.005-04:00

Some pictures of School children taken in Jeju Island. Jeju Island is considered 'The Hawaii" of Korea. It is a Volcanic Island where many Koreans from the mainland go for their Honeymoon. There are many historical sites, and landmarks, such as the famous dragon head. Jeju Island is also the home to the famous and dying art of the Henu Women. We were told, that the younger generations do not want to follow the hard and dangerous teachings and life styles of these Divers, therefor, they leave their Island to go to Seoul for Job Opportunities.

The picture below are some school boys playing a traditional 'boy' game-as we are told by our Tour guide.

KyungOk: Visual Memory One

2009-08-07T23:16:00.005-04:00

During one of our walks around the city of Seoul, we were greeted by a rush of school children that had just been dismissed from their classes. Very diifferent yet similar to my memory of my sister's school. I recall her school being much smaller. And that says a lot considering I was so young when this memory occurred.

KyungOk .. Continue .."The Waiting"

2009-08-07T21:35:00.011-04:00

It's Friday night, and I am a bit 'happy' from the Sangria that we just had from a great Portuguese restaurant! All thanks to a friend that had recommended the restaurant to us! It's only a few minutes from where we live..but never knew it existed! Well, to good food and great Sangria!

Well, I wasn't sure if I should be writing tonight being that my mind isn't quite where I would like it to be..but I miss writing here. This is where I feel I can talk about my family that seems so far away. Don't get me wrong, I can easily pick up the phone and call but our distance, our inability to communicate and our many years of separation keeps me apart. I believe this is true for them as well. Also, you may have noticed, but I have been going back and adding to the previous posts as corrections or to make them into longer pieces.

So I write...

The Waiting

I have waited sitting here for some time now. All I know is that I have watched the children come out and play and return back into their classrooms. I am hungry and admit tired from the waiting.

I walked back to the swing set and sat down on the old wooden seat. Grasping the dust between my toes, I kicked the dirt and watched it whirl around my sandals. I leaned forward, held on tightly,and watched the world upside down. I smiled and imagined the children walking head down and bumping into one another like little colorful marbles scrambling out into different directions to find their own special dwellings. As I sat there staring into the field, my imagination broke to the sound of the alarm that rung throughout the school yard. The voice from the speaker had led the children back into their classrooms.

I was alone again. Nothing to entertain me as I waited there for her. I quickly jumped off the seat and leaped onto the cement walk that created a border around the school yard. I stood there high on top of the little wall to look ahead at the rectangular cement building that stood in the middle of this yard. The playground was quiet now. The echoeing voices of laughter disappeared behind the sound of heavy wooden doors closing in response to the voice that came over the speakers.

I began to walk stepping one foot after the other as I balanced myself on the wall, thinking of all the fun we will have and how she would tell me stories of what she had learned that day. I hoped we would practice my Hangul, my name and our Flag. I repeated my steps as I watched the widows of the classroom become larger and larger. I jumped off with one big bounce, dusted off my legs, and stepped up onto the long corridor. All I could see was rows and rows of shoes that lined up along side of the walls, disappearing down into the long hallway. I took a deep breath and began walking down, counting the doors that led to my sister.

I could hardly see into the classroom. The little window sat very high on top the door. I counted the shoes, once, twice and then again. I had already spotted my sister's shoes sitting their neatly in a row but I counted again. I could hear their voices again, some laughter, and then quiet. I sat back down to lean against the wall and to stare out into the boxed in yard. It was hot and the dirt field seemed to reflect back to the sun a golden haze as the dust whirled into little cyclones that danced across the school yard.

KyungOk: The name I had forgotten

2009-08-04T00:32:00.011-04:00

I am reading over my own Blog and am thinking about my sister, KyungOk. My mind is searching for her as it flips through my early years, until at last, I pull forth a very special file. You see, all these years, my mind has kept it apart from the rest of my memory box. My brother, KyungJin, has been residing there by her side as long as I can remember. It was during those stormy and lonely days that I would run to my room, close my eyes and pull from my mind this very file. It contained only a few short memories and images of my sister and brother. I tried many times to browse through my mind in hopes to encounter and rescue their missing pieces. Every time I looked, all I found was nothing.

I turned to the few memories of my sister, KyungOk, during those early years in America. No terrible questions, anger, resentment, loss, or pain hid inside this space. It only kept a few treasured pieces of images that brought me back to her. My mind was clever. Once in it's grasp, it did not let go. For it knew that if the thoughts escaped, there would be no tracing them. A nameless file that held my happiness and covered me with it's warmth. My only wish was to know her name. To be able to call out her name when I needed her the most.

Many nights before my mother would turn off the lights, I sat on my bed writing down in Hangul all their names, words I knew, and my favorite Korean foods. Then, the void rushes forth and everything turns to dark. I cannot remember her name. I cannot see her face. It frustrates me. I know I have to keep trying and keep writing my Hangul so it would come back to me. I sit there writing until my mother walks in and tells me to sleep. She smiles at my Hangul and tucks me in. She kisses me and turns away. I close my eyes and dream of her. It is here, where I no longer need to be sullen over my nameless sister. I am connected to her. She who is living with strangers like myself. Thinking the same thoughts. Wondering when we would go home.

My Mother, My Sister, My 경숙: POEM TWO

2009-08-03T21:10:00.015-04:00

The Cycle

They carried an inner silence.
Behind the light, they shared a hidden tear.
One awaking cry shattered their walls.

Oh! The children and the pain they fear--
The thrust of the hand
Is the marking now engraved.

From the apartment next door, a knock
And the pleading cry of our brothers.

Mother.

But she does not hear.

Mother is calling!

But she does not see what she is looking for.

But she does see someone--
Whom?

It is her own reflection.
Mother.

My Mother, My Sister, My 경숙 : POEM ONE

2009-08-03T21:02:00.006-04:00

Roots

There is the tree
With flowers to bloom
I see its leaves dancing
Within this morning view

I feel the pain in its roots
As it grasps to breathe
The richness of its soil
Offers it warmth

And the greenness lives on
As its arms do stretch
Standing in the far distance
I do see how I too
Am part of these roots
That feed this tree

My Mother, My Sister, My 경숙 : Visual Memory

2009-08-02T03:14:00.007-04:00

My Mother, My Sister, My 경숙

2009-08-01T23:12:00.018-04:00

Scars, Tears, and Laughter

Where is my husband? Oh yes, he is sitting tall on the small couch, peeking over, and a little removed from all the tears and laughter that encircled this table. I look over my shoulder to see him, to be reassured. He smiles back to me and I know where I am again. I feel home. I can feel my hand is wrapped in warmth and is protected. I turn and see her. She is holding my hand as she speaks, she is telling a story. My eyes circled the room, the table, and back to my sister, KyungSook. I heard the words fill the room but could not understand her. I felt frustrated but it did not seem to matter. All I wanted and needed was to know we all were there, together.

Then she spoke to me. "KyungMee. Yes. Scars. Here. Yes." My heart filled with immediate wave of emotions. She began speaking, pointing to her body, and redirecting my attention to her words. "KyungMee, Sorry before. True. Yes. Scars". My eyes filled with joy and then tears as they watched my sister and brother nod their heads in remembrance and forgiveness. I looked over to see my husband but he had already come to my side. He sat, smiled, and replied back to me. "She wants to let you know she remembers. You are not crazy". All I could think about was that she gave truth to my memory. My mind began to race as the old familiar thoughts rushed in with their open end questions. I wondered, why did she tell the translator earlier that she had no scars, that she never had a child nor was married before. Yes, she must have been embarrassed, shamed perhaps. It didn't matter. Time had stopped that night. Twenty some years I had waited to hear the word,"Yes"! I would get my answers another day. For that moment, this was all I needed.

It is All Blood to Me.

The night was closing in and the narrow street ways lit up with lanterns that hung along the store windows as if to show the festivals had begun. For us, it was late and we needed to head home. My eyes searched through the crowd as I felt my brother pulling me forth towards home. I glanced quickly as the puppet shows came and passed. I smiled at the men who sat there eating their noodle soups. I wanted to stop and eat the Ramen soups but was reminded with a little jerk that we were late.

As we approached our house, my brother and sister picked up their pace and headed towards the doors. I looked up to see my brother frozen, staring his eyes into me. I was scared. What did I do? I was tired and could not keep up but now I am here...what did I do? My sister grabbed his arm, pushed him aside, and peeked into the room. I realized that I did not do anything wrong? Something was wrong inside. I heard my oldest sister's voice crying. I wanted to see but my brother would only push me back. My sister pulled me away from the house doors, crying, "KyungMee, don't come here." "Wait. No!" What was wrong! I began to cry out loud. I could hear my oldest brother now. He is yelling at her. There is noise coming from inside the room. I hear it hitting the wall then the floor. My brother is sitting at the door crying. My sister is hugging him. Frustrated and feeling confused, I ran around them to push the doors open. As the paper doors slid apart, my brother grabbed my side and pulled me to him. I saw it. It was red. Red was everywhere. Then I heard my sister again. She was hurt. I sat next to my brother and sister crying and holding them close. I was too afraid to look. I did not understand. All I knew was red.

Memory My Dream

Time and time again, my thoughts go back to this memory. They click by like snap shots of an old reoccurring dream. I managed to block them until I reached my early teens. Then, once more, I could not hold them back. Pictures, flashes of red, telling me to revisit that moment. Every time, I rewind my thoughts, I came to the same conclusion. This was the moment that led to our separation. It was the last time we were all together. I then wonder, who was in the room? Was it my brother? Was it my sister's new husband? My mind goes back to my sister. Although, I cannot see her face, they are very clear now. I see her scars. I am sure this is not a dream. I tell my Mother of my visions and she recalls some old stories but she is uncertain.

They all rush forth. I cannot stop them. They are perfect like vivid photos protected by age. I am sorting them, filing them, giving life to my 'other life'. Who am I? What had happened on that fateful night? Would I ever know? These thoughts consumed me, filled me, and shaped my past, giving it new roads and more questions. I asked myself, could my thoughts form a dream to what now is lost?

The Reassurance

My husband wrapped his arm around me as we sat at the table watching them talk. My brother pours everyone more Soju as he listens to my sisters. I tell my husband how happy I am. They are laughing now and we laugh too. My Sister looks at me and smiles as if to say that everything was okay. KyungOk smiles at her and turns to me and says, "KyungMee, KyungSook scar, you scar, but me, no!" She smiles and repeats it again, "KyungMee, KyungSook scar, you scar, but me, no!". Everybody laughs. We laugh too.

Three Sisters - Visual Memory

2009-07-30T20:34:00.006-04:00

Our Sister Rings

KyungSook & Me

KyungOk & ME

KyungOk & Me

Statue of Mother & her Children
Taken in Pusan after we met KyungSook

Three Sisters - Part Three

2009-07-30T15:38:00.005-04:00

Three Sisters: 1st Letter from 경숙 / After Translation
April 27, 2004

My proud of KyungMee,

I really thanks to God for our reunion of family. In spite of suffering from separation of other people, it’s really God’s blessing that we meet each other which even I couldn't’t expect in my dream.

KyungMee, I heard that KyungOk preyed & begged to God everyday for our reunion, so it seems that God response to her pray. It remind me old memory that we were young, I bought all to market for buying noodle soup and rice cake. Also I can remember When you were 4~5 years old, you went Christmas event at the church and when you come back you were holding bag of treats and you had big smile on you face.

Do you think that I were comfortable during the long time when we were separated each other?
I always missed our family even in my dream and I felt guilty by myself. I can’t express with any word how I feel happy for our meeting. What can I change with my pleasure which small and young KyungMee show up in front of me after grown up and with husband ? I can imagine that you had hard time for getting over loneliness and pain in foreign land. I really appreciate to your parents in US that raised you very well and make you have today’s life.

KyungMee, I know that you couldn't’t forget the long period which making you struggling for meet again our family but you did well. Also, we finally met all together, so let’s forget the dark and painful old memory and do our best in our life for better and bright future. We can’t share all our happiness at once, let’s enjoy our happiness and glory day by day.

When I let you go away when you were young and small, I were also very exhausted.
I’m afraid it make you feel that it’s not good excuse, but I was also very young and being exhausted at that time.

I tried that taking good care of my brothers and sisters by myself in any case, but I couldn't’t so you can blame me about that. I sometimes resented our parents because they left us in the world when we were so young. I felt guilty about that I couldn't’t be a good shelter to my younger brothers and sisters as like big mountain.

KyungMee, As we meet all together, let’s love and take care each other. I hope that you be a mature, wise wife who can make husband succeed. Even both of you have a job, I hope you make more effort and good support for your husband. Always be patient, and everything must be return to your husband as a love.

As you know, we couldn't’t share love between parents and sister, brothers compare with other people. So I hope we share our loves with your husband and our siblings from now on.
KyungMee, we really appreciate to your husband’s family and your family in U.S and blessing for all of them.

You have a great job. Even you forget about your difficult and painful life, you taking care of more poor and weak neighbors, it seems really wonderful. KyungJin is working for construction company and KyungSun is working at ship. He just went out to ocean, so it’s going to be take 2 years for come back. KyungOk is working at home what making some part of cloth which get stuff from clothing company. I have run small shop, but I just closed because of my health condition.

I really feel sorry about that we separate again without enjoy our joyful meeting.
Also I couldn't’t talk to you what I want to talk with you because of my lack of ability.
KyungMee, even your job making you busy, I hope you study Korean as much as you can.
Also the gifts which you sent us, it was really good enough and they look really wonder and great who is in then picture which you sent us. Your mother looks so beautiful, elegance and lovely person in the picture which up loaded on Internet.

KyungMee, your family seems like gorgeous and lovely . I really blessing that you are a member of great family. I will pray for you and your family for blessing.

Bye.
KyungMee, the name of my sister which I want to call lots of time a day.

Three Sisters - Part Two

2009-07-29T23:48:00.006-04:00

Three Sisters: 1st letter from 경옥
April 2004 / After Translation

To my lovely KyungMi,

KyungMi, the time which we spend together already to be a remembrance.
I reflect on my old memory as like your story. It seems like that we lived together for the short time after mom and dad past away.

One day, someone told me that if I live in rich peoples’ house and then there are lots of delicious food and good stuff over there. After a few days later say that, KyungSuk , you and me , we went one rich people’s house. And then KyungSuk and you left me over there and going to leave without me. So I cried a lot and asked bring me together. At that time , three of us cried all together a lot. Then you gave me one plastic ring and said that “you must keep this ring well, and then we will meet again and let’s don’t forget each other.” It was last seen of you and me.

After that, I gown up in my foster parents house. I always feel gloomy and lonely, but I had lived with one hope that all our sisters and brothers going to be together on someday.
So I did not have any anger or mad as like you. Maybe I was little mature than you .
Only one thing I regret that our parents has passed away so early. I thought that KyungSuk have bad illness so she died. So I understand them , because even I was a old sister or old brother , I don’t have any way to keep us to be together.

The reason why I decided go to KBS broadcast that I want to looking for you than others.
So my dream was come true and you grown up well , so I thank you so much.
Also I really appreciate to your foster parents in USA.
If I have a chance , I want to say that how I thank you to them.

KyungMi,
After I met KyungSuk, I knew that she still alive and you adopted to America.
She thought that it is better let you adopted to good family who have more good condition to raise you well and she just keep in her mind that one day she will find you .

We never gave you up, it was just apart from each other for the short time since we were too poor. Especially, KyungSuk did not abandon you. She said that when she sent you adoption agency, you two cried a lot and she talk to you that just go take air plane and then come back soon and meet again (for make you comfort).

In my thought, I’m so proud that you have made it in a foreign land.
This is also not too late, so please keep in touch often, if possible let’s meet so that we can share our lost affection.

Our living level in here is ****, we are healthy and do our best for your nephews.
Your brother in law *** he working at small factory. KyungSuk’s husband is fish man (not owner of ship) , and second brother is working at construction part and old brother is working at an ocean-going ship so he is far away . But he knew that we met all together.
He also really expect meet you soon.

**************Also you parents looks like so nice and kind so I feel easy .
I can read from your face that you raised with love. Thanks you for that.
I feel the lack but going to stop here.

Kyung Mi, I love you....
I will write letter often and bye until we meet again.

From KyungOk

Three Sisters - Part One in Translation

2009-07-29T15:04:00.006-04:00

1st Letter to 경옥 Translated...an excerpt of original.

경옥언니,

언니 잘 지내고 있죠?
언니들 너무 많이 사랑하고 보고싶어요
그리고 지난번에 언니가 보내준 메일은 잘받았어요
제시카(남화성 : 통역해준) 가 언니편지를 번역해줘서 잘 보았어요
아마 한달전에 우리가 이렇게 편지를 주고 받을수 있을거라고 누가와서 얘기했다면 믿지 않았을거예요
우리가 서로만날 때가 되었었나봐요
우리가 큰언니를 만났을때, 언니가 아마 엄마 아빠가우리를 만날 수 있도록 도운거라고 했는데 정말 그런거 같아요
두달 만에 모두가 이렇게 만나건 정말 놀라운 일이예요

지난번 언니 집에서 다같이 모였을때 졸과저는 얘기한 모든 걸 이해할수는 없었지만 그 시간이우리에게는 얼마나 소중했는지 몰라요
그리고 언니가 우리에게 해줬던 모든것에 너무 고마뭐요
한 가족으로 같이 느끼며 울고 웃었던 그 시간들이 너무 행복했어요
처음 예전 살던 집에 도착했을때 서로 손잡고 어렸을때처럼 뛰어다녔던 그시간들을 영원히 잊지 못할거예요

오빠들에게도 제가 오빠들을 항상 생각하며 그리워하고 있다고 전해주세요
그리고 오빠들이 바느질 공장에서 일한것과 일이 끝나고 우리 함께 지냈던것도 다 생각이 나요
제가 잠자리를 잡는동안 오빠들이 바위에 앉아서 담배를 피던일, 언니 오빠들과 손잡고 시장을 걸어다녔던일, 그러다가 거기서 국수도 사먹고 인형극도 구경했던 일들이 제게는 너무 행복한 추억이예요
또 큰언니를 도와서 빨래를 하고 만두국 만드는걸 도왔던 것도 생각이 나네요
내가 얼마나 가루약과 가루우유를 삼키기 싫어했는지 기억해요
또 큰언니가 저녁시간때까지 우리가 돌아오지 않으면 화를냈었던것도 기억나요
언니, 내가 한국말을 더많이 배워서 잘하게되면 우리 가족들에 대해서 기억하고 있는 모든거 다 언니와 얘기하고 싶어요

큰언니에게도 제가 아주 많이 사랑한다고 전해주세요
큰언니가 절 입양기관에 데려다 주었을때, 언니를 다시 만나지 못한다는걸 그때는 몰랐어요
입양기관에서 입양되기 전까지 위탁모 집에 갔었는데 거기서 그분들이 절
잘보살펴 주셨어요
제가 거기 머무르는 동안 다른 아이들도 그곳에 있었는데 그 아이들은 저보다 먼저 입양되었던거 같아요 그이후에 새로운 아이들이 오고 또 입양되어 나가고 했었거든요
제 기억이 희미해서 맞는지 모르겠네요
한번은 거기서 수박을 먹었었는데 위탁모가 수박씨를 다 치우고 나서 제가 그 씨를 화단에 심도록 도와주시면서 그 수박이 커서 자라면 제가 생각날거라고 하신게 생각이나네요
그리고 위탁아버지가 일하실때 음료수를 가져다 드리고 위탁어머니가 요리하실때 야채 씻는걸 도와드리고 옆집 꼬마 남자애들과 근처에 있는 절 계단에 앉아서 스님들이 기도하는걸 구경했던 기억이나요

제가 미국으로 입양될때 위탁모가 절 시장으로 데려가 머리핀을 사주셨어요
그리고 미국으로 가는날 절 공항에 데려다 주실때 다른 어린 애들을 제가 안고 걸어가면서 울었던것 같아요 또 떠나게 된다는걸 알았었거든요
그때 위탁모가 저에게 울지 말라고 하시면서 다른 어린애들을 위해서 큰 언니가 되어야 한다고 하셨어요
그래서 울지 않으려고 했는데 멈출수가 없었어요
뭔가 아주 큰 일이 기다리고 있다는걸 알았고 전 그게 너무 무서웠어요
아주 멀리 가게 된다는걸 알고 있었지만 지구 반대편으로 가서 살게 될거라고는 몰랐거든요
또 돌봐주신 그 위탁부, 위탁모가 너무 좋아서 또다시 그분들과 헤어지게 되는게 너무 싫었어요
그날이 제가 잊을 수 없는 두번째로 중요한 날이었어요

자라면서 큰언니가 절 입양기관에 데려다 주었을때 제가 울었었는지 기억이 나질않아요 만약 제가 많이 울었으면 언니를 너무나 그리워한다고 생각했을텐데 혹시 제가 울지않아서 내가 언니를 원망하거나 언니에게 화가 났다고 큰언니가 생각할까봐 죄책감이 많이 들었어요
사실 처음에 입양되었을 때에는 언니가 절 입양보낸거에 대해서 화가 났었어요 오빠들이 저랑 같이 있기를 원하고 또 오빠들이 절 보살펴 줄 수
있을거라고 생각했거든요
언니가 입양기관에 저를 데려다 준 날은 제가 결코 잊지 못할 가장 중요한 날이었어요 그날은 제가 어렸을때를 항상 생각하게 하는 날이예요
제가 언니 오빠들과 왜 같이 지낼 수 없었는지 항상 궁금하고 의아했어요
저를 입양하신 부모님들은 우리집이 너무 가난해서 우리 모두를 다 돌볼수가 없어서 그랬거나 아니면 제가 좀더 나은 삶을 살기를 원해서 그랬을 거라고 하셨지만 저는 제가 뭘 잘못해서 절 멀리 보낸게 아닌가 궁금했어요
자라면서 언니를 원망하지는 않았지만 언니가 제가 얼마나 언니를 생각하고 우리가 함께 하게되기를 바라는지 알아주기를 바랬어요
저는 큰언니가 제가 언니를 엄마처럼 생각했었다는걸 알았으면 좋겠어요
저는 우리 지난 가족들 얘기를 더 알고싶고 언니가 제가 알지못하는 우리가족의 지난 얘기를 다 알수있도록 도와줬으면 좋겠어요
이제 저도 어른이 되었고 큰언니가 얼마나 많은 힘든 결정을 내려야했는지
이해할수 있고 언니는 정말 강하고 대단한 사람인것 같아요********************

***************경미드림

Three Sisters - Part One

2009-07-27T22:06:00.007-04:00

I thought it would be appropriate to post the letters in their original form with all their misspellings, run-ons, and initial translations.

Three Sisters : 1st Letter to Sister 경옥

April 22, 2004

경옥,

Hello! I love you and miss you very much. I want to let you know that we received your e-mail last week. Jessica, the girl you talked to on the phone last week, helped us to read your letter/ e-mail. I would not have believed it if someone would have come to me and told me a month ago we would be talking and writing letters to one another now. It must have been time for us to find each other. When we found eldest sister, 경숙, she said that mom & dad must have led us to each other. I believe this is true. To find each other only within two months apart is amazing and incredible.

When we were together at your house, my husband and I could not understand everything said but I hope you know how much the time we spent together meant to us. I hope you know how much I appreciate all that you did for us. And how wonderful it felt to laugh and cry together as a family. When we first arrived at your house and we ran up your street hand in hand I imagined how we would run together as children! I wanted that moment to last forever.

Please let our brothers know that they were always on my mind and I always missed them. Please tell them that I remember how they worked in the sewing factory and how after work we would be together. Please tell them I remember chasing butterflies in the flowering fields while they looked after me. I remember how they would sit there on the rocks and smoke cigarettes while grabbing dragonflies. I also remember walking around in the markets with you and both brothers. I remember these memories as happy times. We would walk around, stop to eat noodle dishes and watch puppet shows. I remember cleaning clothes with elder sister and preparing dumplings for soup. I remember how I hated to swallow powder medicine and powder milk. I remember how mad oldest sister would get if we did not get home in time for dinner. Kyung Ok, I remember always waiting for you and being so attached to you. Once, I learn more Korean I would like to personally share with you all my memories of our family.

Please tell Kyung Sook that I love her very much! When she dropped me off at the adoption agency, I did not realize that I would never see her again. From the agency, I went to live with my foster parents. I have always remembered them fondly. When I lived with them, I remember being well cared for in their home. During that time, they were taking care of other children as well. I believe they were adopted much sooner than I because new children seemed to come and go. I could be wrong since some of my memories are blurred.

One time, after we had finished eating a watermelon, my foster mother cleaned the seeds and helped me to plant them in her garden. She told me that when they grow in her garden she would think of me. I also remember fetching drinks for my foster father when he was working and helping the women clean the vegetables for cooking. I remember playing make believe with the neighborhood boys and sitting on the steps of the temple to watch the monks pray.

When I had to go to America, my foster mother took me to the market and bought me a barrette to remember her by. The day my foster mother had to drop us off at the airport, I remember walking and carrying other little ones in my arms and crying because I knew I was leaving again. She told me not to cry and for me to be a big girl for the little ones. I tried to be strong but I could not stop crying. I was so afraid and I knew something big was happening. I understood I was going far away but did not realize I would be living halfway across the world. I loved her and my foster father and did not want to be separated once again. That was the second most important day I would never forget.

Growing up, I never remembered if I cried when 경숙dropped me off at the adoption agency. I always felt guilty that maybe she did not know how much I would miss her. I thought if she saw me cry she would know that I cared about her very much. I did not want her to think I was mad at her or resented her. It is true though, at first, when I was adopted I did resent her for letting me go because I thought my brothers wanted me and could care for me. The day 경숙 dropped me off at the adoption agency would be the most important day I would never forget.

It is the day I kept going back to in my mind when I was a child. I kept questioning why and wondering if I was not good enough to stay with them. My adopted parents told me that we were poor and she could not take care of us all or that she wanted a better life for us but in my heart I wondered if it was something I did to be sent away. As I got older I did not resent but only hoped she knew how much I cared for her and wished for us to be together. I would like her to know that I remember her as if she was my mother.

I hope I will learn about our family history and that she will help me to understand and piece together our past. Please tell her that now that I am an adult I realize how many difficult decisions she had to make and that I feel she is a very strong and beautiful person.

Please tell 경숙 that many times after I was adopted I would pack my bags and wait for her to pick me up. When she never came I began to understand that I was far away and that this was now my new home. But I continued to look for her whenever we would go out. I would look for her in the shopping malls, restaurants and on the streets. When I was first adopted, there were not many Asians Koreans around our neighborhood so whenever I saw an Asian person I would get very excited and hoped I had found her. I tried to get close to them to see if they had her scars on their arm and neck. I told people that if I find someone who had these scars I would know that I had found my sister. I would also know that I had found her if they knew of my scar. Some people here found this humorous but when I was young I took this very seriously.

For the first year I was adopted, I did not speak any English. It was hard to blend in with my new surroundings. There were many conflicts at home and we needed time to adjust. With time, things got better and I was happy in my new home and with my new family. I never forgot about our family and each time I would look in the mirror or look at family photos I would remember that I have two families. I always hoped that one day I would be able to find you.

It is difficult to describe the pain and the guilt I felt over the years and all the questions I had and have. I feel that a lot of my past destructive behaviors were because of my sense of displacement. Over the years, I have always taken interest in life stories of displaced individuals because I too was a displaced individual without a true home. I mean I have my family here and my home here too but had lost my roots my blood. When I was a teenager, I would write many poems and stories about our father and my memories of our childhood. This outlet helped me to understand and express my feelings and questions I had about my past. Maybe, one day I can share this with you and our family.

In your letter, you said that you were always left behind but I remember also being left behind. I remember telling someone to always remember me and we would meet again. I thought it was a baby but after reading your letter I now know that this person was you! I hope one day with the help of everyone our memories will be complete again. Since I was adopted, I tried to keep my memories vivid but with time they became faded and blurred together. I could see images but could not see the faces. I always felt guilty that I could not hold onto your faces. I wondered all these years what you looked like and how you lived. I imaged you were adopted by a rich Korean family who took good care of you. I hoped that one day you would learn English and look for me.

*********It means a lot that you and our older sister and brothers did not give up on us. It is nice to know that our love for each other survived all our hardship and separation. I will always wear our sister ring to remember our past, present and future together.

**********경옥, please tell everyone once again that I am very happy and grateful we have found one another. I fear that we will lose touch or some how lose each other again. I do not want to lose you all again and hope that this will be wonderful beginning in our lives. Please write often and tell the others to write and tell me how they are. Please share this letter with everyone. Please tell them I love them very much. Tell them I have never forgotten about them and that they have always been a big part of my heart and my thoughts. I love you. I hope to hear from you soon.

사랑해!
경미.

Papa-Visual Memory Continue

2009-07-25T14:50:00.008-04:00

The image below was taken from a Korean Museum of History. It is of a Traditional way to cook your food. The heat from the coal would also heat your floors. It sat apart from your home-living quarters. Most modern homes going back into the '70s and maybe further did not need or even have this attached to your homes unless you lived in the countrysides or up on mountainous areas. I believe when I lived with my foster family or sometime elsewhere, I had resided at homes that had used big cylinder coal to cook in an outside room detached from the main room. I remember helping to cook dumpling soup in big traditional Korean pots that had a large rim that went around the top part of the pots. These pots would fit down into these pits, sitting on top of the coal. Funny, after I had lived in the States for some time, I would talk of these experiences with other young Koreans that had come to the States with their parents. They tell me that they could not relate. They never experienced this as well as some other memories I have had and would tell me that I had at times lived like their Grandparents or Parents.

Taken from same Museum. Traditional way the women would work together to prepare the vegetables. Most likely preparing Kimchi.

We took this picture in a small village in Jeju Island. Traditional Pots for storing Kimchee.

I remember helping the 'women' prepare Kimchee in their gardens. I believe it was with my Foster Mother.

We spent a day exploring the Korean Subway Systems. We rode the subway train with no particular destination. We stopped at one town where we ran into some kind of festival and street displays lined up with all my childhood favorite candies and other sweets.

Papa - Visual Memory

2009-07-25T14:17:00.007-04:00

One of many Fish Markets. Streets lined with seafood and other goods. They sat up little areas for you to sit and eat the freshest Seafood you can imagine.

Some of Korea's soda pops selections. They have vending machines everywhere you go that are full of pop, noodle soups, and mini-coffee to go.

Steamed snails.

Like a dream, everywhere we visited, food, places, and all my senses came to a full circle.
Awakening my memories and visions of my childhood. I was giddy and very animated like a little child once again. I would laugh, cry, and laugh with joy. My husband was in amazement with how he was able to see all my stories come to life.

Dukbokki Man

Long rice cakes in spicy sauce.

One of my favorites as a child and now.

MY TWO FATHERS - PART TWO

2009-07-25T00:10:00.011-04:00

In Korea, if a person was older than you, they become your 'sister' 'brother' 'aunt' or 'uncle'. I had also referred to my Foster parents as Mother and Father. With this said, I am sharing two memories. Two very different times in my life but yet what age is unclear. To go through your life unable to place your memories is like puzzle pieces that appear to have the same shade of color but do not come together to complete a picture.

Story One:

I sat on the cool vinyl floor with my legs tucked beneath me. I could hardly keep my eyes open as I tried to focus on the television screen. I tried to tune into the game show host introducing his newest contestant but the voices from the room behind me became louder until I heard my sister crying out to my Father. I peaked pass my shoulder with slight interest but not enough to keep me away from my favorite show. I felt a tap on my shoulder but did not answer. "KyungMee."KyungMee." My Father then brushed his hand over my head speaking a little louder, "KyungMee!" I turned and smiled at him. "We need to go into town. Get up and come with me!" He looked down at me, as he spoke, waiting for me to respond. I could not understand why I was always chosen to go do the errands. I dragged myself up from the floor, headed for the entrance, and quickly put my shoes on. I was ready for our little adventure.

It seemed like a perfect day. I was happy to walk down these narrow stone pathways holding onto my Father's hand. I felt awake and full from his love that smiled down to me. As we walked down and around these paths, I sang to the sun, to the dogs, and to my Father. He found me to be very silly, but encouraged me to sing to him. I laughed and hugged his leg with my arms.
I released my embrace then ran ahead dancing and skipping to the music in my head.

We soon came to the Market where everyone gathered to see the display of fish, salts, and grains. There were rows and rows that stretched down on long tables. There were tables and sectionals that divided the displays and people who sat there eating their Lamein soups and fish. My Father grabbed my hand again to rush through the crowd. We quickly slipped between the tables and aisles until we entered a clearing. I turned my head looking back to the crowd. I glared at the men eating their Lamein. I looked up and then ran ahead to forget my hunger.

My Father had already collected many bags that he held in his hands. We were about to turn around to head for home when we came across another cart full of steamed snails, roasted corn, and juices. My eyes must have spoke out loud, for my Father stopped and and reached over to the cart to hand me a cone full of snails and a roasted corn. I happily skipped along with my Father, smiling with delight, as I pulled another kernel from the my roasted corn.

Story Two:

Hearing my name in the distance, I got up and dropped the vegetables down onto the bamboo mats. I rushed pass the house gates and up the little hill that sat behind our garden. As I ran up the pathway, their faces became clearer. The men stood before me, sweating, and dressed in grey covered overalls. I looked pass them into the dry fields. I could see nothing but dry dusty dirt. The dogs ran up and down the field chasing the dust that swirled around their bodies. I stood there sweating and waiting for them to say something.

My Father placed his hand on my shoulder and smiled. " KyungMee." Please, go and fetch us some pop." I was happy to be at his service. I turned around and ran back as quickly as I could to our house. Holding the soda pops in my hands, I rushed back up to greet them with the cool bottles. They grabbed the bottles and twisted the caps and began to drink all in unison. I stood there smiling as I continued to stare up at them. They had finished everything. Just empty bottles. "KyungMee, take them now and hurry along!" I looked up at my Father as he spoke to me. I squinted my eyes to not look past him. I stood there kicking the dirt, looking up at him then away. My eyes continued to wander off his face, in search for our dogs. "Rush along." He repeated. I did not want to go back to the garden. I wanted to stay longer with my Father. Seeing that I was not moving, he told me to go tell my Sisters to give me a soda pop. I became so excited I forgot immediately how I wanted to stay and ran down the hill, smiling, calling out, "Awn ni! Awn ni!" " Sister!" "Sister!".

My Two Fathers - Part One

2009-07-22T21:33:00.002-04:00

Hmm...

How funny. I feel more vulnerable posting my poetry onto this blog than the stories or the photos that I have already shared with everyone. The two poems from the Previous Post were written when I was about fifteen or sixteen years old. The earlier Post, Childhood Playgrounds (Home with Foster Parents), also, brings my memories back to my 'Fathers'.

Part One:

Do You see? I wanted and needed to Believe. Growing up, I would take myself away to my fondest memories of my Father. I ran to them. They sheltered me from all the pain and confusion that had surfaced during my adolescent years. At times, I tried to believe, there were memories hidden cleverly away in my mind. Memories of Him. Memories that only held the pain and brought forth only questions. In all my attempts to bring forth any images hidden, none had ever surfaced. As the years past, I felt close to them. My memories of my Father awaited for my return knowing very well when I would need to head Home.

It was the night of our Wedding and we had just arrived to our hotel room. Moments before, my Parents placed my Adoption Records in my hands and wished us luck in our search to find my Siblings in Korea. I reassured them that we were not going there with the intent to rediscover them. I told myself, that it would be impossible to locate them knowing only their names. I reassured myself that it would be an impossible search. Besides, this was our Honeymoon. I was happy with the thought of going there to step down onto 'My Motherland'.

The hours could not past fast enough. We could not sleep nor wait for our trip to begin. Restless, my husband picked up my Records and read as he sat in the hotel arm chair under a dim light. I wanted to read over it as well but felt very anxious and had too many thoughts running through my head. He sat there trying to pronounce my Mother's name. "Kim, Chan Im." I heard it again. I realized that I never knew or had forgotten her name. "What does it say...what is my Father's name in the Record?" I walked over to the chair and leaned over the forms. There I saw it. His name was, Yoo, Bok Man. "Aah...I always Knew that." I repeated his name to hear it again. "Why didn't I remember Her name? " I asked. If I knew it when I was young, why didn't I try to remember it all these years. Why didn't I care? I did not want to go through my "101" questions & answers to self discovery that night. I smiled at my husband and recalled my favorite stories of my Father.

We sat there very happy and giddy as we continued to read more from the Records. And there it was...the Bio-Mother and Bio-Father records. Their life summed up into a little paragraph. I read it over and over with tears that did not know how to stop. We read on until we came across my Personal Data. They had summed up my Childhood into AB &C. Three little paragraphs that explained a thousand memories and and brought forth an unwanted image. It was here in these words,'Her Foster Father'.

I knew I lived with a Foster Family along with an endless line of other children. It wasn't until this moment that I suddenly felt that familiar vagueness. My Father. I closed my eyes to see his image but it is blurred. I closed my eyes and saw myself walking along side of him feeling warm, safe and happy. But, this time when I looked up at him, I saw only more confusion and more questions. Who are you in my Dreams? Is it possible that ALL these years I had wanted to believed these visions were of YOU. Was it possible that You were a collection of the few fond memories that served only to protect me from All that had haunted me.

A few words on a page brought hope and uncertainty. It broke down my Walls and told me to Enter. To go forth with no expectations only to Dream. My Two Fathers. They will guide us there. They will bring us back to My HOME.

PAPA - POEM TWO

2009-07-21T23:31:00.000-04:00

Dear Daddy

Oh yes, I do remember you well

My friend

Your broken heart

Your tightest grip

Within the hands of mine

I look and see, the kindest of eyes

I search to find, someone like you

When there is only you

Within my heart and soul

PAPA - POEM ONE

2009-07-21T23:19:00.000-04:00

This Dream

I offer you my pain

As I continue this dream.

Pages turn and pages reflect.

Were you so beautiful?

My memories may have tricked me.

I sometimes ask you in my sleep,

How I should be.

I continue to run in this dream I have created.

And when the Rain falls around me,

I open my mouth to taste it.

Oh Papa, it is all blood to me.

Passage Three - Visual Memory

2009-07-21T01:59:00.003-04:00

Above, a photo taken before I left my Foster Mother from Adoption Agency. When we were there at the agency in 2004, the social worker allowed me to take this picture that had remained in my file since 1979. I remember posing for this photo. The photographer told me not to smile but to look sad. I was always smiling much like now..they did not want my new family to think I was happy there without them...I am guessing on that.

My Siblings showering us with many Gifts. Me trying on traditional clothes.

After our reunion show on Achim Madong -KBS, we all went to my Sister KyungOk's house. We ate, drank, ate, drank, and simply cherished the little time we had left together. Although, we had not seen each other since 1979, I felt an overwhelming sense of home. I felt myself becoming, 'KyungMee' again. I was their baby sister and all that they wanted to do was feed me, love me, and hope that my husband protects me from harm when we return to America.

Namdaemun Market

The same Market from my Childhood. Many of my memories take place in this Market. I was never sure if my memories of this market place was dreamt up from my imagination or if it really existed. I felt we were walking back through time. My senses all telling me that I was never that lost...just waiting.

Childhood Playgrounds - Passage Three

2009-07-20T23:50:00.000-04:00

Passage Three : (Home With Foster Parents)

Light peered in through the small cracks of the wooden gates that stood before the yard. The pale cement wall wrapped itself around the yard as if to protect the children who lived there. An old wooden outhouse stood by the corner of the yard full and waiting for the men to come with their buckets. Along the cement walls, golden flowers danced about catching the little breeze that would sneak in and out of this yard.

I pulled myself up to peek over the wall and above the slanted red roof tops. I could see other gardens and walls stretched around house after house. The same beautiful flowers grew up and down the pathways following the walls that encircled us. I climbed back down and continued to play with the other children. We laughed and tickled one another as we rolled around the bumpy ground.

I was wrapped up in my own fun when I was surprised by a tap on my shoulder. Trying to find my way out of the tangled bunch, I escaped to see my Foster Mother smiling down at me. Her warm smile took me away to the distant memories of my Father. As I was wrapped up with my thoughts of my Father, I heard a voice calling my name. "KyungMee." "KyungMee."

My Foster Mother pulled me to my feet and dusted the dirt off my clothes as she spoke to me.
"KyungMee, do you want to go buy groceries with me?' I gathered myself together, smiled and nodded to answer her. I ran quickly over to the house, took off my shoes to enter, and grabbed the wicker basket that was sitting against the tall, rectangular, rice container. I slid the paper doors shut and walked over to my Foster Mother to begin our journey into town.

The Market place was filled with people, clothes, food and many shiny pretty objects. The noise cluttered the narrow streets as much as the merchandise had taken over every side street, corner, and block. I held onto her hand tightly as we passed plates of Mandu dumplings and rows of metal containers filled with Dukbulgi, rice cakes and rows of various vegetables. As my eyes randomly scanned the goods, I noticed a little pink plastic flower barrette. My Foster Mother stopped and leaned down to see what had caused me to stop walking. She noticed the pink barrette sitting on the white sheet. She pulled out her purse and paid the lady the money and clipped the barrette into my hair. Feeling the barrette in my hair I smiled. I couldn't remember ever getting a gift before I had met her. As we continued shopping, I looked up shyly and thanked her.

By the time we arrived at the house, my Foster Mother began to cook. The other children and I ran over to help her. Standing there together, cooking with her, I felt good. I felt pleased to be with my new family. Smiling down at us, our Foster Mother handed us each a piece of watermelon. We were all very excited as we sat and ate our watermelon. While I sat there watching her lean over the big round coal, trying to light it, I counted the the little black watermelon seeds. I reached my hand over to her trying to signal her attention. My Foster Mother looked down at me. I held out the seeds in front of her and told her that they were a gift. I told her my wish was for her to plant the seeds in her garden and water them everyday. And everyday, as she watch them grow, to remember me. To remember me when I leave to go live in America.

Passage Two - Visual Memory

2009-07-20T03:14:00.000-04:00

Passage 2

I thought it would be interesting to see the pictures of my Eldest Sister and I Reuniting in 2004. I have few treasured memories of my Sister holding and hugging me as a Child. But here, I feel as if I am holding her and hugging her in my arms, giving her the love, reassurance and acceptance, she has longed for all these years.

Sun slipping into Dusk - Seoul, Korea

Picture taken during our search for my home address from 1979. Picture taken moments before discovering 'the possible Apartment location'.

Childhood Playgrounds - Passage Two

2009-07-20T01:37:00.004-04:00

Passage Two:

Sounds of laughter and loud young voices bounced off the tall red brick buildings as the children scrambled about to get on and off the jungle gym. Noises from every direction rose to fill the enclosed sky. The narrow streets were heavy with traffic rushing to get home. Silently,the buildings began to lower their shadows down upon the children as if to slowly point them towards the streets that led them home. The laughter echoed into the distance as the sun slipped away quietly.

I knew that the time had come but I was in no rush to go. Then, I heard a familiar voice in the distance. The voice was faint but grew to become a recognizable familiar tone. I felt my heart race when I heard her voice but I was not moving. I did not want to leave my playground. Her voice was calling me, "KyungMee!" "KyungMee!" I took a deep breath and ran towards my name. I knew dinner was waiting and again I had failed to go back early to help with chores. The realization of this came clear as I got closer and could hear the anger in her voice. I quickly ran up our street as fast as I was able to run. I could see our apartment building at the top of the street. I felt the thumping of my heart as I reached the top of our street. Before I could stop, I felt my knees hit the black top scraping them into it's gravel.

Tears ran down my face and I had forgotten where I was. I sat there shaking my head and crying with my hands over my face. "Aum Ma!""Aum Ma!" I cried out again, "Mommy!" "Mommy!" A gentle voice rushed over to me picking me up in her arms. She swept me up and wrapped her arms around me as she spoke softly back to me. "I am here." "I am here." "Shhh...I am here." I continued to cry out but found myself holding onto her tightly so she could not slip away. She embraced me in and gave me a kiss above my head. "KyungMee. It's okay. Mommy is here." I opened my eyes and saw my Eldest Sister looking back at me with tears.

*** I think I was fourteen when I originally wrote this piece but it was much shorter. It is a piece that fits into a larger script that I had worked on. So, for this one, I extended it for this Blog. Again, it is one of those memories I hold very close to my heart and for that I always forgave and loved my Sister Unconditionally. Hmmm...I just remembered. When we found each other again on our Honeymoon, she told me that she was especially close to me because I was the youngest living and had me in her responsibility since I was an infant. Although, my Mother did not pass away until I was maybe 4 years old, my Sister had to care for me so my Mother could work. She told me that she always thought herself as if she was my Mother. And perhaps, that is why it has hurt me so much.

Passage One - Visual Memory

2009-07-20T00:25:00.002-04:00

The picture of the Flowers were taken days prior to our Fateful trip to the Adoption Agency. These flowers are everywhere in Korea. Many of my memories are covered with these Flowers.

The First picture above was taken after we went to visit the Adoption Agency. The Social Worker had given us a general address to my old residence from 1979. We drove all around town until I spotted this street. It brought me back to the Apartments I had lived in prior to being dropped off at the Adoption agency. I don't know if this was the very spot but my senses were awakened and memories overwhelmed me. Louie, our Tour Guide, quickly stopped the car and we got out to search for something familiar. My husband held my hand and quietly reassured me to believe in my thoughts. He paced himself to walk along side of me and gave me a kiss. He believed in me. He believed in my memories. He wanted me to open the doors of my memories and to believe in my instincts. Looking up the street, to the hills that stood beyond the now new apartments, my memories of my friend Muri rushed over me. The fields of Sun Kissed Flowers surrounded my vision.

Childhood Playgrounds - Passage One

2009-07-19T22:11:00.003-04:00

Passage One:

The heavy rusted door to the single room apartment shut behind us with an unforgiving silence. Our eyes looked forward towards the hills that sat before us, waiting for our return. Holding hands, we ran up as fast as we could to greet the sun kissed flowers that guarded these hills.

We engaged freely in laughter, and fun, as we chased the butterflies that fluttered about, in the blooming meadow. The tall swaying grass guided us in a confused direction, as we zig-zagged our way in hidden amazement. Exhausted from grasping for butterflies under the open sky, we collapsed to the earth, to lie on our backs.

We closed our eyes, and day dreamed, while the sun warmed our faces. Interrupting the silence, Muri rolled over to her side to hold out in her hand long strands of leafy stems. Gently, she weaved the leafy stems into my long braided hair. She looked up and smiled as she gathered some wild flowers between her fingers. Her smile told me she was ready to hear more about the beautiful and dark world of the Fairies.

As I described to her, the cold dark world the Fairies had to endure, she sat up, and joined in telling the fantasy. As we continued to add to our story, the once brightly lit sky, hung above us, casting our shadows, in the event of changing to dusk. Muri reached out her hand and pulled me up to sit beside her. As my eyes explored the tops of the swaying yellow grass, I spotted a dragonfly sitting on the tip of a leaf. I reached out my arms and enclosed it in my hands. Before it could fly away, I quickly held it by it's wings and then set it free. We looked up to see the dragonfly zip up and down into sky.

Time had slipped away, and we knew we soon had to part. Muri glanced over to me, smiled and said, "KyungMee!' I did not need to respond, for both of us reached into our pockets and pulled out a thin comb and paper. We folded the paper in half and slid the comb in between the paper. We cleared our throats, and began to blow though the paper. Whistling sounds came forth, as we slid the comb back and forth. Before another evening had closed, Muri and I had made beautiful music together.

**** This piece I wrote when I was 18 years old. I find myself reading over these pieces and questioning if I would be true to the events of my past if I would write them in their original form. Meaning content. Some memories stay with you holding the images and their emotions protected. Like this memory of child play and innocence. As time goes by, memories can trick you and haunt you, they tell you how they should live inside you. It grows and turns attaching itself to the different stages of your emotions and thoughts. But, some memories, stay protected and stay close to you always.

Opening Doors

2009-07-18T11:56:00.000-04:00

Sol Flower_ 'Kiss the Kids'

2009-07-18T10:40:00.000-04:00

Fate. Perhaps, my life knew all roads would lead me back to my Home. Maybe in some way, it whispered to me from time to time of how it all would fall into place. Dropping little gifts along the way to signal an awakening in my heart. A distant Dream to Reality.

Only days before our fateful trip to the Agency, we decided to spend the day exploring Seoul. We must have passed so many music stores until we came upon One somewhere in the underground subway system of Seoul. It was thrilling to walk through the aisles listening and sampling music side by side with other Koreans. We were not there very long before the words spoke out to me.."Kiss the Kids". I stopped and reached my hand out to hold it. 'Sol Flower'. 'Kiss the Kids'. My heart felt full. I needed to hear it. I quickly called out for my husband to come look at what I had found. I felt all my senses coming to a full circle filling me up and bringing me back to my old playground. My field of dreams and sun kissed flowers that had protected me not just in my childhood but throughout my years. My husband placed the head phones upon my head and the song began... I did not need to understand the words. I knew it was speaking to me. The song was speaking to that Child in all of us who were once lost and now would be found.

ME

2009-07-18T00:45:00.000-04:00

Adoption Agency 2004 and Photo taken in 1979

2009-07-18T00:42:00.004-04:00

adoption agency in 2004

A picture that was taken only days before Mrs. Lee and KyungSook took me to the adoption agency in 1979. This picture was given to me by Mrs. Lee prior to our ride to find KyungSook.

Birth File

2009-07-17T01:27:00.002-04:00

Adoptee Rights Promo - v2

**** For many people who were adopted are not allowed access to their birth records or birth files. They are denied access to their own Identity. A written statement that holds your past, your traits, heritage, and future denied for you to claim. Imagine.

Birth File:

Discovering my family was a miracle. It all started with a phone number that Louie, our Tour Guide, had jotted down when we went to visit the adoption agency that my sister had turned to for overseas adoption. From that number came a chain of events and a three day journey to rediscovering my past and rebuilding my memories.

It was our last day with Louie and we had no set plans. We had travelled and seen so much of Korea in the short time we were there. I told myself, the last thing I wanted to do was to turn our honeymoon into a wild goose chase searching out my family. So, we decided to retrace some of the places I remembered from my childhood including where the adoption agency once stood. Some time back, I had phoned the agency in my attempts to search out my family. After some failed attempts to communicate I was connected to a person who spoke English. It was on that night, I was told the agency had turned into a Daycare Facility.

I was wrong. My memories flooded back to me. Little had changed to the place. We took a deep breath and entered into the building not sure what would happen or what we would discover. It wasn't what was inside the place but the place itself had not changed. I could see images of my sister sitting in the waiting room and the over sized bin filled with toys that were offered to me the day I last saw her. Like a house from your childhood or an old familiar street, I found myself leading the way down a narrow hall. And there, we were greeted by a rush of social workers who listened to our story and led us to a little room. Our journey had begun.

I was full of hope and uncertainty. The social worker was very polite but questioned why we did not search the agency out much sooner. I explained how I received information stating that the agency had turned into a daycare center. I followed by expressing how happy we were to have found them. She noted that there were information in my File of a call received a few years back but had no way of reaching this person since they did not have a contact number. She further explained the sensitivity of this situation and how sometimes people do not want to be found. I found myself watching her as she spoke but I could not focus. I was much too anxious and excited to hear what she was trying to convey in our meeting. I wanted to hear those words,"It's all here in your file. Your Sister has been contacting our office to see if you have reached us!"

I continued to stare at the case file needing to believe it was ALL there. One surviving folder that awaited for my return held my past, my identity, and my dreams. Breaking my visions, reality kept speaking to us, telling us that the process would take weeks and that the hopes of finding them was very slim since my sister left very little information with the agency. Again,she added that my siblings may not want to be found even if we would searched them out. As she walked away, she politely reminded us that we could look though my file but could not copy it due to privacy concerns. As she left the room, Louie, quickly jotted down a phone number that was written inside the file. This is where our journey began. It began with a number that gave us hope and courage. A number that brought forth the past and led us to an incredible adventure.

My Reunion with my Surviving Siblings on the Korean Show, Ahchim Madong 2004

2009-07-16T23:02:00.000-04:00

Sorry if I am not following a timeline of personal events. I like to try to post by subject matter and the different themes that may arise. That said, I thought it would be interesting to go from child leaving Korea for the US and then The Reunion back in Korea some 25 years later. This Clip is of my Reunion with my Siblings. The AMAZING part of this story is that My husband, Louie our Tour Guide & Translator, and I found EVERYONE within three days. It was the last Three days of our Honeymoon. This was the most happiest and heart breaking moments of my life.

So my new life has begun

2009-07-16T02:07:00.000-04:00

My Mother & Sister welcoming me to America.

...I remember my outfit. The adoption agency tried to pick out 'an american' style outfit. I believe it had Disney Characters and I had denim shorts.

Farewell to the Blond Lady

2009-07-16T02:02:00.000-04:00

Departure & Arrival

BIO-PARENTS

2009-07-16T01:57:00.000-04:00

My childhood summed up into ABandC

2009-07-16T01:44:00.000-04:00

My Profile * Personal Data

Korean Birth Certificate

2009-07-16T01:32:00.001-04:00

아빠 엄마

Arrival & Departure

2009-07-15T22:44:00.000-04:00

Okay. Here is an essay I wrote when I was in Middle School. Back then, I used to write about my adoption and my memories of Korea in fear I would eventually forget my past or blur them together. Being so young, adopted and not able to turn to anyone to validate my memories was always tough. I have so many memories but yet do not know if they are only my interpretations of my past or if those memories were indeed my past. You would think, because I was adopted when I was around 7 years old, my identity would be more intact and there would be fewer questions. This is not the case. I hold many memories and fading faces that to this day trouble me. I guess you can say that I cannot remember a time when I did not feel that sense of uncertainty and void within my heart.

Departure & Arrival_

I stopped walking and stood in the middle of a huge white building. Echoes from the monitors continued to bounce off the brightly painted white walls. People rushed in every which direction as the voice over the speaker announced the departing flights. I wanted to turn back. I did not want to go. Tears ran down my face. I did not want to cry but it was too late. I turned to her, looking for approval, but the only response I received from my Foster Mother was for me to go on . She is telling me to be strong and brave. Brave for the younger ones that were also leaving for the same destination. I dried my eyes and did not look back. I continued to walk ahead as I carried a baby in one arm and held tight to a little girl's hand. When we arrived at our waiting area, a tall blond American Lady greeted us. She was my flight escort to America.

I was the last one to go. By the time my flight had arrived, the baby and the little girl had been taken away by their new care takers. The blond American Lady took my hand and led me onto the plane. All she knew how to say in Korean was, "KyungMee" my name.

Once I was on the plane, my thoughts went back to my Eldest Sister. It had been a few months since I last saw her. I wondered if she would come and take me home. I missed her and was angry at her as well. The ride seemed forever and I did not know how far or where America was. At one point during the ride, I peered out the small circular window. Looking down, I could see a lot of snow covered houses and people. As I continued to look, I realized that they were clouds.

When we arrived in America, the blond American Lady and I departed the plane to get onto another plane only slightly smaller. Most of the flight I kept busy with crayons and candy. At one point, I had to go use the bathroom. I tried to speak to the American Lady but she did not understand me. I found myself standing up and squatting to show I had to go. During the rest of my flight, I stared out of the little window wondering what my new family would look like.

Coming off the plane, we walked through a long walk way that led us into a very busy and loud waiting area. The people in the room seemed very different. They looked and dressed differently. It seemed everyone had blond hair. I could hear everyone talking but could not understand. No words spoken made sense to me. I suddenly felt very lost. The blond Lady grabbed my hand and headed for a strange moving stairway.

As I stood on these moving stairs, dressed in my brand new clothes, my eyes searched for anything familiar but there was nothing. I only heard loud voices echoing and confusing me. Finally, we reached the bottom floor, and the American lady led me towards my new Family. I tried not to look directly at them. Standing in front of me was my new Mother and Sister. They looked exactly the same as they did in the photographs I had in Korea. They embraced me with welcome and gave me many gifts. I could not share the same joy that day. In my mind, I knew, I had to be very good and useful to my new Mother so my Eldest Sister would be proud and come for me.

Hmm...Title?

2009-07-14T20:58:00.000-04:00

How do I begin? Let's start with the title of this new blog. KOREAN AMERICAN ADOPTEE. It's funny, I do not at all walk around addressing myself as a Korean American nor Korean American Adoptee. Don't get me wrong, people have always asked what or where I am from and I would always respond with, "from Korea..oh yes, South Korea but adopted". It never sounded 'PROUD'' or 'STRONG'' like in this title. So, I may start here, and say proudly, I am a Korean American Adoptee! And perhaps, I may eventually say it to my family, friends, and neighbors with equal strength.

I am not a stranger to have written my thoughts down in the past but this way to communicate by 'blogging' is all so so new to me. I am going to just run with this and see where it may take me and how it may reach you. I have been thinking about this blog for some time and hope that it will allow me to connect with other Adoptees and to hear their stories as I hope to share my experiences, thoughts and dreams.