Category Archives: -Kook-Wha

Moon Walker, Apollo 16

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On January 5, 2011, the ms Amsterdam, of the Holland America Cruise Line, cruised around the world from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Through the Panama Canal she crossed the endless azure Pacific Ocean and stopped at the islands of Bora Bora and Tahiti for our days of swimming at the beautiful beaches in the lagoon. Then we arrived at the ports in New Zealand and Australia. We were in Christchurch, New Zealand ten days before the devastating earthquake struck and later learned that over 200 people were killed.

The ship passed through southeast Asia, the Suez Canal, and the Mediterranean Sea. The final port was Funchal in Portugal. On April 26, 2011 the cruise ended after 112 days at Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

During the 112 days cruise many activities were provided, including watercolor painting, Tai Chi, writing classes, evening shows, and movies.  There were also lectures by resident and guest speakers in a variety of different fields from several countries. Apollo 16 astronaut, Charles Duke, talked about his moon landing.  A 30,000-mile bicycle trip from Siberia to London that took three years on one bicycle was shared by Rob Lilwall and was a very interesting topic. “The Sound of Music” and “Dr. Zhivago” were memorable movies, which I enjoyed watching several times.

On February 20, 2011, the ms Amsterdam docked at Sydney Harbor, Australia. The famous white Sydney Opera House was glittering in the late afternoon sunshine. The Sydney Harbor Bridge across from the opera house was another landmark. It took fourteen years to finish the Opera House because of conflicting ideas of architecture and construction problems.  Finally they completed a beautiful and stunning shell shaped structure on the Circular Quay, designed by a young architect, Jorn Ulzon. Inside the opera house, the colorful concert hall, restaurants and shops are with dark colors in contrast with the white roofs.

The Sydney Harbor Bridge was completed in 1932 during the depression period. It did boost the economy by hiring laborers and engineers. The bridge design and construction were a masterpiece of engineering triumph. Nicknamed as “the coat hanger”, it has arch-type steel trusses, connecting the north shore and city center. It saved a twelve-mile distance crossing between two points. The chief engineer, Dr. John Bradfield, supervised all aspects of the design and construction over a twenty-year period.

Kwang and I leaned on the rail on the top deck of the ship and admired the magnificent scenery of the bridge on our left and the beautiful opera house on our right. I got coffee from the bar and started to read “The Explorer”. It was a daily news list of activities on the ship.  It listed the guest speaker for the next four sea days from Sydney to Hong Kong. He was Brigadier General USAF Ret. Charles Duke, an astronaut with the Apollo 16 moon landing.

While holding the “Explorer” in my left hand, I sipped the lukewarm black coffee without any words to Kwang. We were both quiet for a moment. It seemed that Kwang also read the name Charles Duke”with surprise. With another sip of coffee, my thoughts went back that he was a soccer coach and astronaut in Houston, Texas. I continued, “Yes, he is Charles Duke.” My memories of the soccer field came back to me similar to a big screen cinema.

The young soccer coach ran up and down the field yelling to the players, with his hands on his mouth giving them instructions, even though he knew the players could not hear him.

“Sam, run, run, Sam.”

“John, the ball is coming to you.”

“Tom, watch out for the yellow shirt.”

“Sam, kick it, kick it.  That’s the boy,” the coach screamed.  Sam made the goal.

“Wow, wow!!  Sam, good job.  Good job.”

The parents clapped their hands, standing up from the lawn chairs instinctively.

The early evening heat in Texas was still unbearable for the parents, but the players under ten years old did not mind it at all, wiping the running sweat away with their arms or with their jerseys.  The Falcon team won two to one over the Vikings. The boys were around the coach and listened carefully to his instructions while they were drinking water or Gatorade. A couple of them poured water on their heads to eliminate the burning heat.

Our three sons and the coach’s two sons were on the Falcon team when we lived in Clearlake Forest, near the NASA Space Center in Houston, Texas for eight years.

Now, on the Amsterdam, Bruce, the ship’s Entertainment Director, introduced Brigadier General USAF Ret. Charles Duke as a guest speaker on moon landing and present and future NASA programs.  He would be talking for the next four days at sea with “moon walking” as his topic.

“It is absolutely unbelievable. What an encounter,” I told Kwang and grabbed his arm. “Kwang, Charles Duke was the soccer coach for our sons.”

Kwang was quiet, as usual.

“Remember, Kwang, the astronaut who has a twin brother who was a biologist on the cruise ship?” I continued, “Maybe he will not remember us at all.”

Kwang interrupted, “Of course not.”

During Mr. Duke’s lecture, I pictured the soccer field instead of listening to him. He was up and down in the field, lifting his foot in the air without a soccer ball, pretending to kick it to make a goal. Frequently he made a whistle to get the boys’ attention that echoed in my ear drums clearly.

After his first lecture, he had a moment for a book-signing event for his autobiography, “Moon Walker”. I approached him. “Mr. Duke, our boys were on your soccer team with your sons.” I spoke to him quietly and cautiously, watching the expression on his face while he signed his book for other people.

“Yes, yes. Do you remember I was a coach?”  He asked me.

“Yes.  Yes, you were.” I was shocked at his memory. I was thrilled that he could remember his soccer team forty years later.  I almost jumped to the ceiling. He signed his book for me with his wife Dotty, as follows:  “To:  Family Koh, as a soccer coach in El Lago, Charles Duke.  Son, Tom, now 43, Son, Charles, now 45.” I bought his book and DVD for our children and grandchildren.

In three out of a four parts lecture series, he spoke about his childhood, schooling, finishing with a Master’s Degree in Mechanical Engineering at MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) and the interesting and compelling stories about choosing to be an astronaut among tough competition. With endurance and hard work, he became an astronaut for the Apollo 16 Program and landed on the moon. The fourth part was a question and answer period covering all of his lectures.

He spoke not only on technical aspects of the Apollo programs in layman’s terms, but included some humorous incidents that took place inside of the module under zero gravity, such as candy bars and bananas floating around inside the capsule and sleeping under a chair to avoid floating. The most difficult task was disposal of human discharge. At that time, the device for vacuum suction was not available for the toilet.

He showed the different landing positions on the moon from Apollo 16, Apollo 11 and other Apollo Programs.  He also shared his indescribable emotions when he took his first step on the eight-foot high ladder from the module. Once on the surface of the moon, he spoke quietly to himself with compelling feelings, “God, thank you for this opportunity. I am proud of myself and also of working for the American people.” He continued to mumble to himself. Mr. Duke praised several times President John F. Kennedy’s compelling speech, “We want and must send a man to the moon before the turn of the century.”

He showed us pictures of himself bouncing around on the dusty surface of the moon. The Lunar Rover went around the small valleys and plains covering the tiny rocks with sand. Next, he managed to put the American flag on the surface of the moon. He added with a big smile on his wrinkled face, “Since there is no air on the surface of the moon, the flag was not flapping from airflow. When the American people saw it on the TV, the flag seemed to be flying with air.  Actually, it was a phenomenon that one astronaut waved the flag.”

The main mission of Apollo 16 was to collect valuable scientific information on the moon.  One of the tasks of these assignments was to collect as many rocks as the team possibly could.  Under zero gravity, and wearing a layered spacesuit and heavy helmet, it was very difficult to pick up the rocks from the surface. In one instance he fell.  Falling and standing up in a heavy spacesuit under zero gravity is another time consuming and challenging task, but luckily he managed well and stood up again without being caught by TV cameras.

The most beautiful, memorable event for him was that he left his family photo of his wife and his two sons on the surface of the moon. He prayed, “Eternal moment for my life and family on the moon and maybe on the planet.” The black picture frame was laid on the lonely surface of the moon. During this eleven day journey, there were a couple of minor problems, such as communication with Houston Space Control Center when returning to earth, but due to luck, or his scientific technical wit, he overcame the problems and reentered the earth’s atmosphere safely.

When he spoke of the future of NASA’s program, his face changed and he could not hide the gloomy and uncertain future fate of the space program at NASA.

“Since the cold war is over, there is no imminent threat between the superpowers to compete in the space program. The NASA programs in the future will be slowing down unless we pursue the landing on Mars. Nobody knows.” Then after a moment, “Maybe research projects on the space and landing on Mars or other planets could be active in the private sector.” Sadly, he concluded the future fate of NASA would not be bright, based on defense budget cuts and the slow economic recovery.

One of the most interesting questions he is frequently asked is, “Did our astronauts really go to the moon and put their feet on the soil of the moon?”

With a quiet smile and holding his two hands behind his back, “I am here on your cruise ship with you.” He gave us more than 100% assurance that he was on the moon. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Another frustrating comment I get from friends and people around the world is that they think all astronauts are millionaires.” To answer this, he showed us his salary and compensation package with detailed numbers. Considering the tremendous risk of life, and the extremely difficult training under zero gravity, the compensation was a ridiculously nominal amount, like a drop of water in the ocean.

Since he retired from the NASA program in the 1970’s, he has had his own investment and consulting company and is very active as a guest speaker. He is enjoying his life with his wife, Dotty, as a new-born Christian.

He was an unforgettable encounter in my life in beautiful Sydney Harbor, Australia.

You Are Naïve, Mr. Park

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Quietly Mr. Park closed the heavy blue steel door behind him to avoid waking his wife and four year old granddaughter. It was around 9:00 a.m. and they were still in bed. His son and daughter-in-law had already left for work.

As soon as the elevator hit the bottom from the eleventh floor he lingered. Where should I go today … art museum, city library, the eastern market or the Pagoda Park?

A modern art exhibition was going on at the art museum, including Picasso. He did not care for the paintings of Picasso and thought that Picasso was drunk when he touched the white canvas with his wild brush. The city library? No. The moss and yeast smells make his nose and arms itch. Also, he has read almost every book in the library about ships and submarines over the last five years. He decided to go to the Pagoda Park and play chess or cards with friends.

He got a free ticket at the subway ticket counter and went down the stairs for the Blue Line in the direction of city hall. The Pagoda Park is five blocks away from the city hall.

The transportation is free for people over 65 in Korea. Mr. Park is only 61 but he looks much older than 65 with wiry gray hair, sagging eyelids and deep wrinkles on his face. He is taking advantage of his appearance. Luckily, nobody asks him for proof of his age.

The rush hour crowds bumped his left and right shoulders at the subway station. Since the narrow escalator slid down with a load of people, he decided to take the steps. His legs were getting weaker, shaking and getting cramps. He stopped for a few seconds and slowly walked down to the train stop. With morning commuters and students, the inside of the train was quite crowded. There were people sleeping, reading papers and talking on the phone constantly but nobody offered him a seat.

He stood up among the businessmen who were reading “The Daily Economic News” while standing. He could read over their shoulders: “Bernard Madoff’s Ponzi Scheme”, “General Motors Bail Out Request”.

Mr. Park just shrugged his shoulders and murmured to himself angrily. There are a bunch of thieves, large and small anywhere, everywhere in the world. He continued to himself, Put them in jail, all of them, forever.

The city hall is seven stops away from his home. He still has lots of time to be at the Pagoda Park around noon. He continued to stay in the seat and went to the final terminal of the Blue Line at the Yonsei University. It took about one hour. He did not get off the train here. He rode on again in the same seat back in the direction of city hall. Now the inside of the train was almost empty. Several merchants sold goods. The first one was selling umbrellas for ₩2000 ($2.00) and the second one was a blind person selling chewing gum by holding it on his left hand. His right hand held a white cane and the recorder dangled from his neck with music of “I Will Tell The Story”. The next one was selling white socks, and on and on until inside the train was getting crowded again.

It was only 10:30 a.m. In order to kill time he took the Yellow Line to cross the Han River heading to the Incheon Terminal (suburb of Seoul). He was almost two hours on the train, and around noon arrived at the city hall stop.

He saw his group a few yards away but instead of joining them immediately, started to step on the cherry blossom flowers’ pods covered with white and pink colors under the trees in the park. He has never appreciated natural wonders; never counted the stars in the sky and never had any touching feeling in his heart about the flowers. He started to count pods, one, two, three, ten, one hundred … He was extremely happy, comfortable and relaxed. A big grin spread over his mouth. He mumbled, Why couldn’t I escape from my stress and concerns by using tools enjoying natural beauty and wonders before?

“Mr. Park, lunch is ready. Today’s lunch is kalbi tang (beef rib soup),” the loud, humorous Mr. Kim called. His voice was loud enough that everyone in the park could hear him. The cafeteria in the Pagoda Park serves free lunch to seniors. The group that Mr. Park belongs to is not impoverished seniors. They come here to meet friends and to cast off their anxieties about their families and relatives.

The park was crowded with small children running around. Several groups were playing cards and chess games. A group of merchants were selling cigarettes and lighters, makgeolli (Korean traditional opaque white rice wine) that is usually drunk from a bowl, egg rolls and seaweed sushi and others. The exercise groups, Tai Chi, and jumping ropes were seen.

Mr. Park joined this group after he lost all of his savings. He did not have a place to put his mind and heart. He ended up coming here and met Mr. Song and Mr. Kim. They became very close friends to Mr. Park, more than anybody else, even though they had known each other less than five years. He was not as close to his wife, his high school and college friends and, or his son.

Putting their heads together, they were looking at a picture of Mr. Song’s 37 year old nephew. Mr. Song and Mr. Kim were trying matchmaking with ladies in their neighborhood. Actually Mr. Song brought several copies of pictures and short personal histories of eligible ladies. Mr. Park thought matchmaking was the most silly thing in the world that they were doing but they were having a great time over the potential wedding and addition of new family members.

Mr. Park ignored the nasty comments they made about his appearance. It is a miserable life for Mr. Park, living with his daughter-in-law under the same roof. Much more than just oppressive. He had to be so careful about everything as a father-in-law. In the morning first he has to dress, because he cannot go to the kitchen in his pajamas. He has no private life at all. He thinks his daughter-in-law feels the same way. But now there is no alternative, no way he can leave his son’s house and live in a separate apartment.

Mr. Kim, who was the production manager at Daewoo, greeted him. “Hey, Mr. Park, you look pale like paper. It seems that last night you worked hard with your wife. You can hardly even stand up.” Mr. Park ignored him and did not look at him.

Mr. Song, who has a pharmacy across from city hall for 42 years and is semi-retired (handed the business over to his son) said, “Yes, what happened, Mr. Park?”

Mr. Park did not respond.

Rice balls, kalbi tang and kimchi were on the table as side dishes. They were busy eating lunch. Then Mr. Kim spoke with his mouth full of food. “Any news from your untrustworthy ex-partner, Mr. Lee?”

“Mmm … mmm,” Mr. Park tried to start to talk.

Quickly Mr. Kim interrupted. “Mr. Park,” still in a very loud voice.

“Shee. Be quiet,” Mr. Song warned Mr. Kim.

“Mr. Park, what are you doing?” shouted Mr. Song across the table.

“Oh… nothing,” Mr. Park murmured ignoring the two comments from friends.

“Look at this picture. She is so cute and sexy.” Mr. Kim put her picture in front of Mr. Park’s nose and continued, “She is like a live salmon on a chopping block flopping its tail, so fresh and lively.”

“Ohm,” Mr. Park nodded.

Mr. Park asked for a cigarette. He quit 20 years ago. He wanted all his evil memories to fly away in its smoke.

“If you catch him, Mr. Park, twist his neck like this and kill him.” Mr. Kim stood up and showed with a gesture how to twist his neck.

“Mr. Kim, sit down, calm down. Everybody is looking at us.” Mr. Kim sat down and put a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

Five years ago, when Mr. Park retired from the Hyundai Ship Construction Co., he got a lump sum as a retirement package. News spread about Mr. Park’s retirement and his lump sum retirement package throughout the town. Old high school and college friends approached him with great investment opportunities for his retirement money.

His wife insisted, or rather demanded that they put the money in the bank and collect interest for the rest of their lives but he felt that his age of 55 was too young to start collecting interest and stay home to babysit their grandchildren. With over 30 years of industrial experience he could start a second career. And with the additional income he dreamed of travel, going to the symphony and the opera with his wife. Also, he could buy the black pearl necklace for his wife’s birthday that she had wanted for fifteen plus years.

Mr. Lee was president and CEO at Kyundo Industries, Ltd. in Incheon near Seoul. He was a high school and college classmate and they had known each other for more than 40 years. Mr. Lee was a leading, prosperous businessman in Korea and abroad. He had a plant in Indonesia and in the Pittsburgh area in the U.S.A. Kyundo manufactured industrial boilers to supply the petroleum industry.

Mr. Lee promised Mr. Park a ten percent stock option and the director of marketing position was verbally offered. Because of over 40 years friendship Mr. Park naively accepted the offer without any signed paperwork.

Mr. Park did not get any official offer and hardly connected and talked with Mr. Lee for about one year. Mr. Lee was out of the country most of the time on business, especially in the U.S.A.

Mr. Park could not face his wife directly and started to avoid her. They spent more and more speechless moments. Many sleepless nights caused him migraine headaches and an ulcer. A couple of months later he found out that Mr. Lee disappeared and Kyundo Industries filed for Chapter 7. Later Mr. Park found out he was not the only victim of this untrustworthy friendship. His money was gone. He could not bear the reality of his friend’s betrayal.

Mr. Lee was gone. His apartment was locked. Nobody knew his whereabouts … in Korea or in the U.S.A. Mr. Lee had planned a new life for several years ahead and had made careful arrangements about hiding the money for his future. He transferred the money someplace and put his apartment and other valuables in his wife’s name.

Yesterday Mr. Park found out that Mr. Lee is in the U.S.A. He bought a house in Orange County, California and has enough money for the rest of his life.

Because of his anger, Mr. Park could not sleep at all. Last night he could not even lie down on the bed. He was looking for a cigarette. He had quit smoking a long time ago. He could not find one. Mr. Park blamed God. The world is not fair. His lifetime savings were gone like tissue paper down the toilet through his dearest friend. And this friend who gobbled money is living comfortably outside of Korea. Mr. Park wanted to blame somebody … God, his wife, his ex-company or Korean society, not himself. He did not even care why this successful company had failed or what the motivation was behind Mr. Lee’s disappearance.

If his wife knew, he would get more scolding. He has had enough of unbearable words from his wife. He must just be grateful that his wife did not divorce him or kick him out into the street. He wanted to commit suicide at the subway station, not just once, but many times.

Is this my fate? If it is, God, you are too cruel to me. I worked night and day for my family and dreamed that someday I would take my wife to Morocco to see the café made famous in the movie Casablanca, Venice boat riding, Athens and buy a black pearl necklace in Tahiti. She wanted to have this for her life. There is nothing I can do. Now I have to ask her for lunch money.

“That’s why I could not sleep last night,” Mr. Park whispered. You almost could not catch his words. He continued. “He is in California and bought a nice house and he will have a comfortable life with the hidden money.” Everybody was quiet from this unexpected story.

Everyone finished their lunch but Mr. Park’s rice bowl was still full. He could not swallow his food.

“Mr. Park, you have to think about yourself. You have at least another 20 or 30 years to live on earth. You seem on the edge of killing yourself.”

Mr. Song continued, “We are friends for four or five years now. It is a short time compared to other friends, college classmates, but our friendship with you is worth more than anything else. I cannot stand any more of your pessimism and miserable attitude. Nobody likes to be around someone like you.”

Mr. Song still continued, “Be brave and strong like a Spiderman. Think about it this way … you lost your assets, such as your house and everything by fire or hurricane or tornado and think that you are a lucky man to still be alive.”

This preaching did not appeal to Mr. Park. He liked to have another powerful comfort, he did not know what kind.

Hey, friends, you did not have an experience of betrayal from a trusted friend since childhood, he murmured and stood up quietly and left the hall.

“That guy is on the edge of killing himself,” Mr. Park heard this behind his back. It echoed in his ears.

Patti’s Mother’s Car Keys

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Whenever I had lunch with friends, I used to tell the following story in order to keep the conversation going:

The story is about my secretary, Patti, her mom, Eleanor, and her car accident. Patti’s mom was over ninety years old but she looked as if she was only seventy, with a slim and attractive figure. People passing by stopped walking to take a second look at her and many of them exclaimed, “wow”.

Her hair was colored to a very light brown and in the summer she wore one-piece dresses with flower patterns reaching almost to her ankles and tightened her waist with a wide black leather belt. In the winter, she usually wore black pants with different colored sweaters over a white blouse. Her clothes were not designer, but she was always fashionable.

Her smile was especially unique without making any sounds but spread on her face. She walked on her tiptoes, almost falling down to the ground, but in a sense it looked like she was dancing all the time. Her daily activities had slowed down over five years ago but she never missed 9:30 a.m. mass.

Patti’s mom reminded me of Rose Kennedy, who was a devout Catholic. She had a healthy life and never missed daily swimming in the pool and mass, despite several heartbreaking tragedies.

Her daily activities started after a light breakfast of coffee, orange juice, oatmeal and one piece of toast. Following mass and errands she carefully reviewed her afternoon schedule for grandchildren’s birthdays or their graduation parties. She did not miss even one of the great grandchildren’s events, even though she could not remember all their names. Religiously she returned phone calls from friends out of state and her youngest sister, Peggy, and her youngest brother, Bob. Peggy had a home in Michigan and Florida. Her husband had knee replacement surgery a couple of years ago and was still not completely recovered. She learned that Bob, her youngest brother, and his wife, Emily, planned to take a cruise on the Mediterranean for his 80th birthday.

If Patti’s mother was still alive she would not have been able to sleep after learning that her oldest son, Bill, has just been diagnosed with Leukemia. She would be visiting him every day instead of attending any birthday or graduation parties.

Her activities were not limited to family and relatives. She was very active in her senior circle, played with the bell ringers in the church choir, met monthly with the Pax Christi group from church, played the organ, sometimes went on calls weekly with a partner for St. Vincent de Paul. Until the last two years of her life she was a communion minister at church, taking communion to shut-ins at a local nursing home every week.

The most enjoyable thing for her was to play cards with her surviving brothers and sisters. After playing cards they all shared a potluck dinner with a glass of wine. Another rewarding experience for her was when she served as clerical help during her eldest daughter Jeanne’s campaign for mayor of Troy. She did not wipe away her tears over the late night news of her daughter’s election as mayor. Just let them run down her cheeks.

In the late afternoon her daughters stopped by her condo, checking her medicine, food and necessities. All of her seven living daughters took turns with this. What a fortunate woman she was! Patti made Impossible Pie, Chicken a la King, Shrimp Scampi, Beef Stew, Lasagna, and one of her mother’s favorites, Chicken stir-fry.

Before going to bed she would watch the 6:00 p.m. NBC news and work the crossword puzzle from that day’s newspaper. Sometimes she would write short notes about church and local news to out of state friends and her sons and daughters.

She loved to go to visit her daughter, Rita, in Indianapolis, Indiana. She enjoyed the changes of scenery on Highway 94 West and 69 South, passing by Coldwater, Fort Wayne and the G.M. Truck Plant. In the spring the corn was knee high and in the autumn it grew tall with brown color along with soybeans and Maple trees changing colors. Another thing that she enjoyed very much was having lunch with her daughter Jeanne at one of the local Chuck Muer restaurants.

As soon as they entered the restaurant’s heavy swinging doors with a carved crab on each door, Tom, their waiter, greeted them in his usual friendly fashion, “Hello, Grandma and Mayor Jeanne, and how are you ladies this afternoon?” They were almost regular customers on Sundays.

“Fine and you?” Jeanne answered politely.

“Fine, fine, fine”, Tom said in a rush in order to wait on his other tables. Tom anticipated their regular orders, “Two cups of tea with sugar, no milk and no lemon”. Then he left before getting a “yes” or “no” response from either of them. He was back rather quickly with their drinks and took out his order pad ready to take their orders.

“Just a minute, let me look at the menu today. Instead of ordering the same thing, grilled tuna steaks, I will look at the menu.” Grandma was in a demanding mood and expressed the following without saying a word, “Tom, do not rush us.”

Now Tom sensed that today Grandma and Jeanne had lots of time to enjoy their Sunday afternoon lunch and so he quickly said, “Take your time. I will be back.” He pretended he was not rushed, then he disappeared.

“Jeanne, what are you going to have?”

“Mom, I am thinking grilled white fish and soup instead of a chef salad.”

“And I will have grilled swordfish with Caesar salad,” her mother responded.

“Sounds good, Mom.” Jeanne just easily approved her mother’s choice. They enjoyed Chuck Muer’s bread, fish patties, crispy Jewish crackers, their main dishes, tea and spending a pleasant afternoon together.

Patti’s mother drove her 1986 Olds Cutlas Ciera just to church for morning mass and running small errands within a five-mile radius.

One weekend when Patti came into the office her face was almost as red as a fire engine and she was almost out of breath. I thought she was sick or something terrible had happened. For a minute I just stared at her.

Finally her first words came out, “My mom had a car accident” with stress and almost shivering with concern.

“So, what happened?” I almost screamed my question, but in a split second I knew that if Patti came in to work, rolling her eyes, then it wasn’t that serious.

“She is fine, but all shook up,” Patti continued.

“Of course, understandable,” I responded. “Is she in the hospital?”

“No, she did not get hurt at all.” Patti’s excitement did not decrease as she continued. “My mom hit a city tractor pulling into the grocery store parking lot. I guess that she did not see them as they were pulling out.”

“A city tractor?” I repeated. “What happened to your mom?” I was trying to calm myself. “Your mom was responsible?” I tried to lower my voice but almost burst out laughing and repeated, “a city tractor?” Then, one more time I repeated, “a city tractor?”

“Her car has a little damage in the back but everything is ok.” Patti was quiet for a minute.

“Then what’s the problem?” I filled the gap.

“My mother’s main concern is losing her driver’s license. That’s why she is all shook up.”

Ah, Ah, now I understood. I spoke again to myself.

“Patti, did the police come and give her a ticket?”

“No.” Patti’s answer was short.

“Was there a lot of damage to the city tractor?” I asked.

“No, and my mother’s car only has a scratch and a small dent on the back bumper,” she explained.

“Then there is no problem.” I tried to comfort and calm her.

“But she thinks that she might lose her license. She called my sister, Jeanne the mayor, and asked for her advice and help. Jeanne helped to have the car repaired because a good friend owned a collision shop.” Patti finished by saying that soon “everything would return to normal”.

Since her mother had eleven children and many grandchildren and great grandchildren, Patti has many nieces and nephews. It seems that almost every day Patti has more news about her family, going into the army, getting married, having babies, divorcing, starting a new business or getting a new job. The list is endless. It puts me in mind of one of our Korean proverbs, “The wind never died away at the tree that has many branches”. This is a perfect description for many relatives.

Patti’s mom was driving to church and attending mass every morning again. A couple of months later Patti was excited again and came into my office barely able to control herself. She was lucky that she did not fall in front of my desk. I waited until she started to talk.

“Patti, let’s have a cup of coffee,” I offered. “I’ll just get it.”

Patti started to talk. “Kook-Wha, my mother got her license renewed.” With an extremely unhappy expression she continued, “They shouldn’t give it to her.”

“Patti, she looks so young for her age. Everybody thinks she is only around 70 years old.” While I commented I pictured her face and figure from a few months earlier when she was in our office. At that time I praised her mother’s smile and beautiful summer dress that had a floral pattern.

“But they are wrong to renew her license again for a 90 year old lady. She got her license in 1946 just before her 40th birthday. My mother and my sister, Rita, both got their licenses that summer.” Patti was so agitated in her opinion that I could not interrupt her and she continued. “Our family might have a meeting and take her car keys away from her. Maybe the Secretary of State’s office missed looking at her date of birth and only looked at her personally and, luckily, her eyesight was good enough for driving. She was perfectly qualified to drive (renew her license) in the State of Michigan. She goes to mass every morning. That’s a problem. Somebody else will have to take her everywhere she goes.”

“Of course”, I interrupted her thinking that when my mother asked for a ride, her expression was almost ashamed because she thought that she should not have to ask for help.

“My mother does not know that we are having a family meeting about her car keys. If she knew she would think that her life will be ending soon.” Patti finished her talk about her family taking the keys away.

A couple of months later Patti told me her mother was grumpy and did not talk with her for a few days. Her mother stayed in bed doing crossword puzzles because the family took her car keys away from her.

Patti assured me that the family did the right thing for her mother and for other people. “The family does not want to see other people get hurt because of my mom.”

Sure, that is true, “but, but” my “but” could not make a conclusion. In my mind I saw Patti’s mother’s beautiful face covered by gray clouds and tears running down her cheeks.

Patti’s mother passed away at the age of 97, two years after she surrendered the privilege of holding her car keys, with many, varied, colorful and bittersweet memories left to her children.

* Much of this story is true, but not all of it.

Amazing Lady, Jennifer

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I went down to the basement through a narrow spiral staircase from the kitchen. The tiny kitchen has a small cooking stove and a large rice cooker on the counter.

Jennifer has set up her beauty parlor in the basement and takes care of customers at any time, early morning and late evenings. Customers are mostly family members: husbands, wives and children.

In the basement there are three almost brand new red toolboxes with several shallow drawers and strong and sturdy wheels attached to the bottom. The unhealthy plants with dry brown leaves from outdoors for winter are placed on top of the toolboxes. An old revolving chair is in front of the only mirror and one armchair is attached to a large hair dryer. There is an old sofa that is covered with a slipcover for customers who are waiting their turn. An old TV is on the shelf for watching Korean soap operas.

The thing I like most in the basement is a radiant heater from Costco that warmed up my leg while I sat on the chair in front of the small mirror. One other thing was a calendar from Jennifer’s Korean Catholic church with the date of the lunar calendar hung near the mirror. I need to know two days in the lunar calendar per year: My mother-in-law’s birthday and Korean Thanksgiving which is on August 15 in the lunar calendar and around the end of September in the solar calendar.

When I turned on the basement light, Jennifer came down immediately after me and turned on the heater. I sat on the chair shivering and she put a towel and gown around my neck and she started to touch my hair.

“Your hair grows fast. It is long. That means your hair is quite healthy,” Jennifer commented.

“I was busy and I just kept it in a pony tail. It looks ugly, but…” I did not finish my sentence and continued, “I needed a perm to last for three or four months at least, maybe a tight curl helps it to last longer?”

“Let’s see.” Jennifer continuously touched my hair with her warm fingers.

Before Jennifer finished her sentence we heard loud noises from upstairs and something hit the floor. BANG!! BANG!! It was like a grenade hit the floor and would make a hole in the basement ceiling.

Jennifer dropped her brush on the floor and ran upstairs. Again the loud voices spread throughout the house as loud as thunder. A few minutes later the storm calmed down and the kitchen door was opened and closed with a bang. Somebody ran out into the street.

She felt that she was caught in the middle between two giant forces and neither was willing to give an inch (like a small ship at sea caught between two gigantic humpback whales). But she was all right for handling this awkward situation. She came downstairs holding her breath and started to curl my hair. The quiet moment sprawled through the basement.

“Last night our house was so cold I thought that I would freeze to death. (It was not true). Kwang put the thermostat down to 65 F.” I was just making conversation to break the silence.

Maybe Jennifer did not hear what I said. Her hands were trembling a little bit, but she was able to settle her emotions.

Jennifer has taken care of my hair for more than twenty years now, but we have never talked about our personal lives. I did not even tell her about my business and I just told her all the time how busy I was with four children and a heavy workload. In exchange, she told me the stories of Korean soap operas that she watched.

I wished that I could avoid this uncomfortable moment and just say goodbye to her and leave but the perm takes about two hours. There was no way I could leave or comfort her.

Finally Jennifer thawed the chilly moment and started her amazing story. “Bob and I have two sons and one is a business manager of a small company and our second is institutionalized and just came home for the weekend.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes and then she continued that whenever her second son, Harry, came home there were frequent quarrels between father and son. Everybody had bruises on their faces and bodies. “When Harry is in the institution our home is much quieter than before. Since Bob is acting as a child, he starts the quarrels and not his son.”

I lost the words. I just thought about what a unique life she has. Then she went on. In December 1951 during the Korean War, her hometown was in Kangwon Province, which was in the South Korean territory before 1953. Her first husband died on the battlefield as a sergeant. She left home with a seven month old son and a three-year-old daughter with one thick blanket. Her son was on her back and the blanket and everything else was on her head. She walked with her three-year-old daughter for several miles to the train station where all the townspeople would leave for the south to avoid the war zone. Many, many times her three year old daughter lay down on the snow, cried and did not want to walk any more. Everybody had to leave the town because the North Korean and the Chinese armies flooded toward the town.

It was dark when she finally got to the train station where the refugees were. She was one of the last people to evacuate the town. All the people were in cargo trains and there was not even one inch of space left. People sat on other people’s laps. There was no room for them to stretch out their legs. This was the only transportation to leave the town.

Her hands were getting warmer and she was getting faster with curling my hair and her mind seemed to have regained control and she continued, “For three days we were in a cargo train without any food and could not even go out for a pit stop. When people needed it, they passed around a can for an emergency. For three days we did not eat anything and nothing came out as discharge. I sat on the lap of a middle aged gentleman and I used the can on his lap.”

Another silent moment passed and my curiosity increased as to how she met Bob.

After three days the train stopped at its final destination of Daegu, that is a city in the middle of South Korea, which is now the second largest city in Korea. The refugee camps were full of people from North Korea and they were setting up another one but it was not ready. About one hundred to two hundred people did not have a place to spend a couple of nights until the camp was up.

Jennifer walked on for several miles with two children looking for a place to stay. After several rejections, she found a house with a barn. Jennifer asked the landowner if she could stay a couple of nights here until she could go to the camp. The owner was a very kind and warm-hearted person and explained her reasoning. “How can I let you sleep in the barn while we are inside the house?”

“If you let me stay here, it will be a great place since I have a thick blanket and we can be warm staying here,” Jennifer replied.

About a week later Jennifer and the two children finally went into the refugee camp. At that time there were several refugee camps around the town. The government provided a meal once a day with rice balls and bean sprout soup.

Jennifer continues, “After I settled down in the refugee camp I began to be concerned with the whereabouts of my family (parents and siblings). They were evacuated at a different time from North Korea and I did not know their location.” A couple of months later Jennifer got news that her parents were in a different refugee camp.

Finally the family was reunited but no jobs were available and getting food was very difficult. Her daughter was crying from hunger and her son was trying to suck Jennifer’s milk from an empty breast. Because of malnutrition her son started to walk at the age of two and Jennifer did not have a period for three years.

Through the assistance of the Catholic Church, Jennifer collected a mixture of leftover food. It was waste food from individual dishes from the U.S. army. It was more nutritious than just bean sprout soup or other Korean food at that time. With these connections Jennifer started to wash clothes for the G.I.s. First one and two, then later she operated a laundromat for about two hundred G.I.s with the assistance of several employees.

“Business was booming and it seemed to rake in money from the ground and the laundromat space was full of G.I. clothes. One day one soldier’s clothes were in our laundromat for several weeks without a checkout. I asked his friend the reason. He said it was Bob who was new to this division and because his paperwork was not properly done on time, the payment of his salary was delayed so he could not get his clothes back.”

Jennifer asked his friend to take his clothes and pay for it later. Jennifer’s intention was that she needed the space, but Bob thought differently about Jennifer. Bob paid back with a letter saying that he wanted to marry her.

Jennifer didn’t even blink her eyes at his proposal. She totally ignored him. She had many reasons. She already had two children from a previous marriage and Korean tradition did not allow for mixed race marriage at that time, especially marriage to a G.I. It means one class lower than our traditional social system. Koreans can no longer be proud of their pure blood because of so many mixed racial marriages.

Bob came to the Laundromat every day and sent her letters almost daily. Then he moved to another location and that division moved out of the town and a military police (MP) division came to that location. She operated the laundromat for a couple more years to serve the MPs and then she closed it.

Years passed, and Jennifer had a visitor from her church. Father Paul came. At that time Jennifer was with her father. Father Paul was hesitant to break the silence and finally he asked Jennifer’s father to leave the room in order to talk with Jennifer privately. After her father left the room Father Paul took out a ragged letter from his inside pocket. It was a letter from Bob. Since Jennifer had closed the Laundromat, Bob did not know her address, so he sent the letter to the main office of the Catholic Church and it was forwarded and finally wound up with Father Paul. Father Paul knew that Jennifer would not marry an American G.I., breaking Korean tradition. Not only this, Jennifer already had two children of her own. Her family and church members decided to at least meet Bob and then make the decision but this meeting did not mean “YES”.

It was nine years since the first time Jennifer had seen Bob at the laundromat. Bob flew in the first time with a ring. Nothing happened. The second time nothing happened and the third time he brought another ring.

Jennifer’s family and the priest thought he was a very decent man and he had fallen in love deeply with Jennifer. He would make Jennifer happy for a long time. They married in the Catholic Church.

As soon as Jennifer married Bob she began to recognize that Bob was not normal. He was different from what she first thought.

“Jennifer, how can you stay with him?” I interrupted her. I could not hear her story any more without frustration.

“This year is our 45th anniversary.”

I lost words. What an amazing woman. She has carried this load of frustration and uncertainty of Bob’s abnormal character for forty-five years. And I was full of sorrow for her. The Catholic principle made her stay with him without divorcing him. This was only my thought. But it’s possible that they might have many happy moments together.

“Bob is now in a nursing home fighting for his life.” Jennifer could not finish her sentence; tears were running down her cheeks.

Two Scientists In My Life

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For more than fifty years I have been surrounded by scientists and engineers that are my colleagues, teachers, customers and suppliers. Naturally I have great admiration for all my acquaintances and all dedicated scientists, like Madam Curie and Albert Einstein.

I am not stingy in expressing my admiration of my colleagues who are working long hours at their offices and laboratories, sacrificing their private and family lives. But recently I have had two scientists on my mind and I wish to follow in their footsteps and do as they are doing. One is Elaine Smith in California and the other is Joe Ferenci from Hungary.

Elaine is five feet, two inches tall and weighs maybe less than one hundred pounds. She is second generation American of Japanese origin and in her late fifties. She is working at a large oil company and I understand she is the developmental chemist for engine oil additives. Nowadays engine oil specifications are getting tighter to meet EPA requirements. The percentage of Sulfur, NOX content, viscosity of oil in the winter months and fuel economy are great concerns in our industry. Global warming and green chemistry are additional items to make scientists and engineers busier and work diligently to find the right solution.

Two years ago Elaine invited me for lunch at her company function at the International Colloquium of Tribology at the Technische Akademie Esslingen in Esslingen, Germany, near Stuttgart.

She made the presentation of her paper just before lunch about new additives for engine oil. Several colleagues were still discussing her paper about the interesting results and possible joint developmental work for further application under her supervision. I believe that whatever presentation she made it will contribute greatly to the lubricant industry.  Over our buffet lunch I was listening to their discussion with great interest. Her voice was monotonic and she carefully explained the experimental results and cited numbers on Sulfur and Zinc contents in engine oil and the amount of NOX content after a six months field trial in the Los Angeles, California area.

One thing was very clear, that the people around her showed great respect for her and her work. Her innovation might be a great jump to meet the GF-5 new specifications in engine oil.

After lunch I exchanged business cards with her colleagues. Then Elaine and I left the restaurant and walked to the conference. It was a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant to the place the conference was held. In January Esslingen’s temperature is not terribly low but damp. I felt it was colder than in Detroit that has dry low temperature. We walked on the street, lightly covered with snow and ice.

Elaine wore a winter jacket that she used to wear on the East coast, about thirty to forty years ago when she was in college. It did not look warm and the faded gray coat did not fit her well at all, but she did not seem to mind.

“It is chilly and colder than in Detroit,” I said as I broke the silence. “Really?” Elaine said as a question. Quickly I saw her lips had turned purple. “I am getting cold too,” she admitted. “The hot soup at lunch does not affect us in the cold January weather in Esslingen.” After this comment I was quiet for a while.

Later we talked about the conference topics and research issues on engine oil additives and industrial lubricants. Of course, she did most of the talking. After this we split up for different sessions. She went to the fundamentals of lubrication and I was in the metalworking fluids session. During the session I could not concentrate on the speakers.

Elaine’s image came into my mind continually. She did not care about what she wore or what the world thought about her appearance. She continuously devoted her time to research without any distractions.

This was quite a contrast from my case. Before I left for the conference, I organized my suits for each day with different clothes. On Monday, a gray pants suit, Tuesday, a pink wool suit with shirt, Thursday, a red wool jacket and black pants. I even brought medium high heels. I took the same care with my hairdo. I went to a beauty parlor and had a haircut and dye job. I do not spend a lot of time on my appearance but I do care for clean clothes and try to match my clothes to the weather, season and the occasion.

I could feel and imagine that her focus was on just one thing, her work, and her research on additives for engine oil disregarding everything else. Her path is straightforward to achieve her goals.

That evening when I talked with Kwang about Elaine’s devotion, I told him again that I enjoyed being with her and respected her and wished I could have that single-minded devotion to my work. He did not say a single word on the other end of the telephone, but for a long time I had not spoken of my work ethics with him, and I was thrilled that he had just listened. Always my mind was focused on the priority in my life “family is first”.

A week later, after the close of the conference, Kwang picked me up at the Detroit airport. On the way home, in the car, I talked about Elaine and my wish to do research like her for forty five minutes straight, without touching any other topic. After he had listened to me patiently, “Remember your age, Kook-Wha,” was Kwang’s final comment.

Now Joe Ferenci is about five feet, three inches and one hundred twenty five pounds, and very old. He resides in Budapest, Hungary. He has a thin layer of gray hair and wears thick gold-framed eyeglasses.

In the last eight years I have seen him every other year at the International Colloquium Tribology in Esslingen, Germany. I saw him from a distance at the conference room and hall at the mayor’s receptions in Esslingen and Stuttgart. I did not have a chance to say “hello” to him because of my busy schedule with other colleagues from the Netherlands, Czechoslovakia, Germany and other countries. We were catching up on industry news, especially new product lines and new rules for EHS (environmental, health and safety) in Europe.

In January 2010 Joe was at the Parker, the same hotel in Esslingen where I stayed. I sat at a table where I could see the people come to the door for breakfast.  Joe came in wearing a black suit with a white shirt. I forget what color of necktie he wore, but one special thing hanging around his neck was a black traveler pouch which contained a name tag for the conference inside. He sat down two tables across from me and got coffee and stood up and approached the buffet table. His fragile figure and the very slow movements of his feet added years to his actual age. Then he put a pile of food on his dish and on a separate plate he placed two German sourdough rolls, and sat at the table and started to have breakfast.

While I was chewing my boiled egg and cucumber I was trying to guess his age and debated about how I might start a conversation with him. I ordered one more refill of my coffee and the waiter poured the coffee with precision, not spilling a drop. “Danke Schoen,” I told him, smiling. He nodded and disappeared.

Joe was busy with his breakfast. He had a big appetite. He had not brought any reading material, such as daily newspapers, Die Spiegel or other magazines, like most of the other gentlemen did. He just seemed to concentrate on his eating. After a couple of sips of coffee, I approached his table.

“How are you, Joe? I have seen you at every conference,” I started.

“Yes.  Yes,” Joe replied with a strong accent. He tried to look at my nametag to catch my name.

“My name is Kook-Wha Koh and I come from the USA and attend every conference as you do.”

“Yes. Yes.” Again he said “Yes. Yes.” with a very quiet and brittle voice with no strength at all.

“Where do you come from?” I asked him his country of origin.

“Budapest.” Again a short whispered answer.

“Hungary.” I finished for him.

I hesitated for a few minutes as to whether I should ask him his age. Taking all my courage, “May I ask your age?”

“Eighty-two years old. Next month I will be eighty-three.” Surprisingly, his voice was quite louder than before as he proudly told me his age.

“Thank you.” I asked for his hand and held his hand very tightly.

“When is your presentation?”

“Tomorrow. Wednesday.” Again he answered with a stronger voice.

“Mine is on Thursday, the last day of the conference,” I told him.

With a strong accent, he said, “I developed a new engine oil additive and it improved fuel economy ten to fifteen percent in the field test.” He finished with sparkling bright eyes and several hand gestures.

I thought ten to fifteen percent improvement is great but it depends on the base line that is chosen. Improvement of fuel economy, even one to three percent is a great number. Ten to fifteen percent is an extremely good number if we can achieve it. Frankly, both scientists who I admire are working on engine oil additives. I had many questions as a layman on engine oil additives, but I stopped my line of questions and praised his work for his age.

Before I left the breakfast room I said, “Good luck, Joe, with your presentation tomorrow.”

Joe Ferenci continues to work as a technical director in Budapest. His research work is presented to the world and contributes to our society. I prayed for his health and that he may have many more years of research work.

Admiring these two scientists and continuing my own work, I hope that I also have many more years to go before my own retirement with the following prayer:

Please, always put my family first, and let my passion for my work stay in my heart for a long, long time.

* The story is factual but the names have been changed to protect their privacy.