Political Ambiguity - The Divide Widens



Pick a donut, any donut!



"Which one is Fred?"

Last February, I wrote a blog, http://kellykonecne.blogspot.kr/2012/02/out-from-wild.html, expressing concern over the political division infecting our country and a hope for reconciliation.  Far from resolving our differences, the past election has only widened the gap dividing us.  Stubbornness and resentment has blinded many to the serious crisis rapidly unfolding in front of our very eyes.  With only hours left until we cascade over the fiscal cliff, a solution isn’t within sight.  Perhaps it’s time to select a scapegoat.  Any suggestions on an appropriate choice to burn on the stake of public ridicule?

While browsing the Internet and pondering over a cup of coffee at the “Hanshim Institute of Baking and Coffee” (seriously) on Christmas Eve afternoon, a worthy candidate to receive blame came to light.  The media is surely culpable for our downfall!   Responsible journalism has been replaced with practices previously reserved to a handful of disreputable rags.  Sensationalism and the advancement of political agendas have superseded the search for truth and protection of the public interest.  On my way out the door, I vented part of my indignation by purchasing two overpriced donuts.

Martin Luther King himself couldn't have put it better when he said,
'Don't believe everything you read on the Internet.'

 

Undeniably, irresponsible media is a fitting choice for our derision. Their coverage of the Sandy Hook massacre and the underlying role they play in encouraging unbalanced individuals to create atrocious acts is a good illustration. I’m certain many (if not most) of you’ve seen some moving words attributed (wrongly) to Morgan Freeman on the Internet,

http://www.theatlanticwire.com/national/2012/12/morgan-freeman-newtown-quotes/60047/. 

I wish the words were from Mr. Freeman. Beyond providing a lit match for my bonfire proposal, his next role could’ve been our next actor president.  

 

The feeding frenzy surrounding the Gen Petraeus scandal is another good example of misleading information virally spreading and the impetus behind the image I created above.  Allegations the FBI agent who “sent shirtless photos of himself to a woman involved in the case prior to the investigation” were factually true, but were widely presented with underlying sexual connotations.  Once the actual picture surfaced, it was clear the likely motive for sending the picture, two years earlier, and to a large audience (including a reporter) was humor.  The photo of the bald, bare-chested agent, taken a shooting range, showed a striking resemblance, and in my opinion, was amusing.  A shirtless photo of me, at a kitchen range with donuts in hand, would surely invoke a few laughs from friends and family.
 

 On Christmas morning, my intricate plan to parody the media began to unravel.  Waking to the welcome smell of brewing coffee, my cheerful demeanor rapidly turned south when my lovely wife returned my heartfelt gratitude for the coffee with “You’re welcome, and thank you very much for the donut!”  After angrily (pretend) letting her know she’d ruined Christmas, my feigned rage was softened by her contrite (actually sincere) offer to acquire a new donut.  Even after explaining why I needed the “Institute’s” credibility for my piece, convincing her to make the 2-hour drive was a forlorn hope.  I didn’t even suggest a trip to my favorite, but equally distant, coffee shop in all of Korea.  “Shut up and Take Coffee” http://10mag.com/shut-up-and-take-coffee-incheon-korea/  is a great place to visit if you ever have a few hours to kill at the Incheon airport.  All conversation ended abruptly as Hyesuk darted out the door.  Fifteen minutes later, a replacement donut from a local Dunkin Donuts franchise arrived at the same time as a new roadblock.

 

My original plan to replicate the shirtless FBI agent photo didn’t set well with Hyesuk and she refused to help out with the camera.   I couldn’t come up with a rebuttal to her, “Are you stupid?” argument even after showing her on the Internet that it  would be perfectly acceptable. 
http://shine.yahoo.com/love-sex/photographer-8217-self-portraits-ballet-skirt-weapons-wife-185500363.html
 I finally caved on her suggestion to take the photo in a T-shirt and was actually pleased with the outcome.  Shortly after the photo was taken, two thirds of the donuts quickly disappeared.  I tried to refocus myself on the media’s advancement of political agendas, gun control for instance, but somehow drifted off in reminiscence.

If every parent kept their firearms unloaded and locked up, the completely fabricated story of an individual shooting a beer bottle out of his brother’s hand while showing off his quick draw at the Cheyenne Wells dump probably wouldn’t even plant a small seed of curiosity…and while we’re on the subject of the dump, I remember a group of mostly young adults building a ramp to jump a bicycle over a sizeable bonfire there.  The first individual to emulate Evil Knievel came barreling down the hill, hit the center of the ramp, soared well above the fire, and landed gracefully on the other side to the cheers and adulation of all witnesses.  As the evening progressed, and courage increased, numerous victories were achieved.  Inevitably, as inhibitions and physical dexterity decreased, one participant’s rapid descent down the hill was followed by sliding off the side of the ramp and directly into the fire.  Fortunately, the rider’s scrapes and burns weren’t life threatening and his failure achieved the greatest exaltation and most raucous celebration of the entire evening…and while we’re on the subject of alcohol induced foolishness, I remember another individual capturing a rattlesnake while working in the field.  After completing his day’s work, he placed it in large glass jar and took it with him to the bar and an inevitable result.  What’s the point of this rambling disjointed paragraph?  Here it is.  We have to find a way to keep guns, bicycles, and rattlesnakes out of the hands of idiots!

 

A few moments of reflection, and Hyesuk’s “Are you stupid?” denigration, still ringing in my head finally brought me to my senses.  Why should I risk raising the ire of the National Rattlesnake Association, the Concerned Citizens for Bicycle Fireproofing, and especially Mother’s Against Telling Lies About Your Brother.   Expressing displeasure with our elected representives over their mishandling of the Fiscal Cliff is considerably more likely to incite a torch bearing mob.  Even though Congress is returning this Sunday and the President is returning early from his vacation in Hawaii, I'm still angry.

  http://kellykonecne.blogspot.kr/2012/12/no-christmas-for-congress-no-aloha-for.html. 

The importance of making a deal is far more important than whether we tax the rich or prevent a few freeloaders from taking advantage of the system.  Since they aren't listening to us, maybe they'll take the advice of some of our greatest leaders.

Abraham Lincoln said, "The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew and act anew."

 

John F. Kennedy said, "let us not seek the Republican answer or the Democratic answer, but the right answer.  Let us not seek to fix the blame for the past.  Let us accept our own responsibility for the future."

 

Ronald Reagan said, "When I began entering into the give and take of legislative bargaining in Sacramento, a lot of the most radical conservatives who had supported me during the election didn't like it.  Compromise was a dirty word to them and they wouldn't face the fact that we couldn't get all of what we wanted today. They wanted all or nothing and they wanted it all at once. If you don't get it all, some said, don't take anything. I've learned ... you seldom got everything you asked for...If you got seventy-five or eighty percent of what you were asking for, I say, you take it and fight for the rest later, and that's what I told these radical conservatives who never got used to it."

Regretfully, I don’t have much hope in a gathering of politicians finding either wisdom or common ground soon.  Hopefully, an agreement will be reached to at least postpone the drastic impending consequences.  I hate to end on a down note, but at least I enjoyed the donut.  Stay away from the dump!

No Christmas for Congress-No Aloha for President Obama

Yesterday morning, I listened to a heartfelt speech given by Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta to our servicemen in Turkey.  While his actual words were elegantly stated and politically correct, the bottom line of his moving words underscored a sincere belief that the greatest threat to the security of our country today is a failure of leadership by our elected officials to prevent sequestration.

 

I agree fully with Secretary Panetta, but how does a citizen thousands of miles from home make a difference.  Before the microphone and loudspeaker, even the loudest voice reached a relatively small number of ears.  Today, the Internet and social media provides a revolutionary capability to amplify the truth and spread it rapidly across borders and time zones.   The message I’d like to spread is simple. 

 

A high price is required from the military members freely sacrificing themselves for our security.   Our warriors in Afghanistan won’t be abandoning their posts for the holidays.  Many will be performing their mission 12 hours a day and 7 days every week.  Shouldn’t our public servants exercise a similar devotion to their country?

 

The maximum penalty for a military member deserting their post in wartime is death.  What should the consequences be for a congressman to leave Washington DC on 17 Dec or for the President to vacation in Hawaii while our country is in peril?  Since the impending “fiscal cliff” is a serious threat to the security and wellbeing of all Americans, it’s reasonable to at least demand the resignation of any member of Congress or elected/appointed member of the Executive Branch deserting their post during this time of national crisis.  Have any of your congressmen deserted?  Is our President more concerned about sun, sand, and surf than our future?  Please let them know how you feel.

Bobby's Last Day in the Military

To a military kid, your tenth birthday is a special event.　 It's the day you receive your dependent ID card and the privilege of going to the Exchange (retail store), Commissary (grocery store), and Movie Theater by yourself or with friends.　 However, on your 23rd birthday (assuming you're still in college), your last card expires and the free gym　access (sorry Bob) you've enjoyed for all those years comes to an end.

　
The title of this blog wasn't made in jest.　 I truly respect the service and sacrifice given to our country by military dependents. America is blessed to have an all-volunteer military, but their families could easily be considered unofficial draftees.　 They leave behind their friends, schools, careers … to start a new life each time the orders come. With each deployment, spouses understand the challenges of single parents. Children face the disappointment of missed events and the anxiety of knowing someone they love is at the war being shown on TV. Sometimes the fear becomes reality. Which sacrifice is greater, a service member giving their life for your freedom or a child growing up without a parent? Fortunately, Bobby’s experiences were mainly positive and his problems were mostly learning to deal with adversity and mistakes. Both greatly influenced the fine man he’s become. Thanks for your service, Son.

One of Hyesuk’s most troubling days happened while I was gone. Almost immediately after she poured boiling water into a ramen, her eager child reached up to the counter to retrieve his favorite treat. In his failed attempt, all the scalding water came down on Bobby’s head and face. I can only imagine Hyesuk’s distress as she doused him in cold water, rushed to the emergency room, and tried to comfort her child’s agony over the following weeks. It’s a miracle Bobby wasn’t left with permanent scars (when I get back home next month, I’ll post a picture Hyesuk took the second week). After a couple of months, the damage wasn’t obviously noticeable. After he’d been in school a few years, all you could see was the burn’s outline when he was mad.

Unfortunately, parents aren’t exempt from the human condition. Everything doesn’t always work out like we expect and all of us make mistakes. We were leaving Fort Meade, Maryland for a tour in Misawa, Japan and thought leaving our Bobby and Laura with friends, while the movers were packing us out, would be a good idea. After the truck left with all our possession, we picked up the kids and stopped by our home for one last look around. The look on Bobby’s face became increasingly anguished as we walked through the empty house. When we got to his room, tears started rolling down his face. I remember him sitting on the floor, hands on his head, repeating over and over, “It’s gone, everything is gone.” We tried to console him, but none of our explanations could get through to a three-year-old. I don’t think he was alright until they unpacked us in Japan. Then, every box opened was like Christmas.

In contrast to the mistakes, I feel very good about the things we did right. When Bobby and Laura were little, I'd read them a story (I can still recite "Bears in the Night" from memory) before sending them off to bed.　 After they'd been tucked in by their Mom, I'd enter the darkened room and ask them, "Can I pray for you?"　 I don't know exactly when I stopped this bedtime ritual, but I think it was sometime after Laura started telling me, "Dad, it's MAY I pray for you!" One day I came home from work exhausted and ended up in bed before my children. Right before I drifted off to sleep, I felt a small hand on my shoulder and turned to see my little boy standing by my bed. He asked me, “Dad, can I pray for you?”

Over a nice relaxing breakfast in the hotel this morning, my wife Hyesuk and I spent some time talking about our plans for the day and reminiscing over our lives. Between sips of coffee, we recounted our family history and talked about our hopes for the future. She asked me to share one particular story. When Bobby was a toddler and Laura was a baby, we left them with their Grandma and went out for a night on the town. While we were gone, Laura started crying and wouldn’t stop. Grandma asked Bobby, “What should we do?” to which Bobby sheepishly replied, “Don’t ask me, I’m not in charge.” On this special day, Hyesuk wants Bobby to know this excuse is long gone. You are in charge of your life. Your Mom also wanted me to remind you how we always asked you to pray in the car before starting a long trip and that you actually aren’t in charge of your life (and none of us can figure out your Mom).

In addition to pointing out all my grammar and punctuation mistakes, my daughter has asked me, “Why do all your blogs end up being sermons?” A few months back, my son told me, “I like our family stories, they’re sort of like our own Aesop’s Fables.” I don’t intend to disappoint either of you today. Before the preacher took Bobby under the water at his baptism, he asked him, “Why do you want to be baptized?” Bobby replied simply, “I want to please God.” My own conversion experience followed a graphic description of Hell and I jumped at the opportunity to avoid it. A friend from our tour in Japan once shared with me how John 14:2 “In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you“ led him to salvation. After a wonderful description of Heaven, he decided he wanted to go there. Avoiding Hell and going to Heaven are both exceedingly good decisions, but the focus is still on self. What do I get? What do I get out of? Mark 1:11 explains why I’m certain Bobby hit the mark on that day. If you open the Bible (or better yet, don’t need to) the sermon worked.

Happy Birthday,
The End,
AMEN!

More on (Moron) Fighting With Women

Early in our marriage, my wife asked me why I couldn’t be more like her Dad (Apa).  She went on to say, the key to his marital bliss was he never fought or even disagreed with her Mom (Oma).  My one word retort, “bull$#!+”, elicited a glimmer of a smile from Hyesuk.  Human beings fight.  We have a selfish nature and often just misunderstand each other.  One lesson I did pick up from her Apa was steering clear of direct conflict when possible and avoiding battles on unimportant matters.  I’ve always been curious if he started out that way or just adapted to survive.

I know without a doubt where Hyesuk’s negotiation, sales, and quarrelling skills came from.   Her Oma was one of the sweetest people ever, but she was also quite capable of expertly exercising a vast repertoire of strategies and unleashing a wide spectrum of emotions to achieve her purposes.  Fortunately, I was only witness to the application of her skill on others and I can honestly say I never had a single disagreement with her.  I doubt there are few men alive who can say they’ve never been at odds with their "Omani"-in-Law and I’m encouraged by the possibility that Hyesuk will eventually mature into the same charming woman. (I’m also looking forward to her response when she reads this paragraph).  While Hyesuk has always been a formidable foe when it comes to a scrap, I’ve made considerable progress over the years.  A few months back she jokingly told me she “regrets ever teaching me to fight.”

“Fighting Cups”_® - Contrary to Hyesuk’s misguided belief that I’ve learned everything I know about squabbling from her; I’ve also had a few ideas of my own.   While perusing through a house wares shop near our home with my daughter Laura, a flash of inspiration suddenly interrupted my agitation over ever having been dragged into the place.  Even if they’d been engulfed in the warm glow of a halo, my enthusiasm over catching sight of the “Fighting Cups”_® wouldn’t have increased in the slightest.  Sudden inspiration is a wonderful thing, and I was certain I’d found the answer to one of the world’s oldest problems.  Since the cups were also very inexpensive, I purchased two.  On the walk back to our apartment, I even envisioned the possibility of realizing a fortune marketing my solution to the world.

Imagine this… at the onset of conflict, the offended party takes out the “Fighting Cups”_®, makes a pot of coffee, and then sits down at the kitchen table with their spouse to calmly work out the disagreement.  Performing this simple act of kindness provides an opportunity for emotions to dissipate and sets the stage for both parties to enter into the subsequent dialogue from a loving perspective.   After everything is gracefully worked out, the “Fighting Cups”_® are cleaned and put back in the cupboard.   The retail package would contain two cups, a brief but motivating instruction manual, and a picture, on the packaging, of a couple holding the cups and intently working through their issues.  However, when the first opportunity to finally use the cups availed itself, the results weren’t even close to what I’d expected.  I’ll leave the details up to your imagination of how one of the cups was “accidently” dropped in an unfortunate kitchen incident.  Thomas Edison didn’t succeed on his first attempt to create the light bulb, and I still haven’t totally given up on the “Fighting Cups”_® trademark rights or underlying concept.  I purchased four more cups and sent them to Laura to find out if they are any good in roommate disputes.

This picture of Hyesuk serving cake is from another
 Valentine's Day banquet at Misawa Baptist Church

A Valentines Day Message – Hyesuk and I often (still do) quibbled over room temperature (she likes it stifling hot, while I prefer a cool, comfortable environment), finances, housework, and various other opportunities for disagreement, but I usually understood what was going on and neither of us viewed the conflict as earth shattering. However, the first big fight we ever had caught me totally off guard.  Everything started out innocently enough.

Bobby and I were in the kitchen having a good old time making a modest homemade pizza.  I’d pulled a chair up to the counter so Bobby could easily participate in putting the toppings on his half.  I was putting on traditional favorites like olives, mushrooms, onions, and sausage.  Bobby was adding stuff like anchovies, Cheerios, and raisins.  Dividing the pizza into separate sections was a good idea.  Hyesuk stopped by the kitchen on her way out to a night class and there were hugs and kisses for all.  I bent slightly over to receive my share while a young Bobby, even standing on a chair, still had to stretch upward.

Later that evening, Hyesuk arrived home in a cheerful mood, checked if I’d misplaced either of her children (See “The Lost Lamb”), and went into the kitchen.  Since I’d already done the dishes, I was surprised when she returned to the living room somewhat agitated.  She asked me, “is there any pizza left?”  When I told her we’d eaten it all, her agitation turned to anger followed closely by the sound of a slamming bedroom door.  Heeding her warning not to enter the room, I offered through the closed door to make another pizza.  I tried a little humor, “How many Cheerios and raisins would you like?” to no avail.  I chocked up my first night on the couch to “Women are insane.” and was genuinely surprised when everything wasn’t back to normal the next morning.  After my third night on the couch, I broke down and profusely apologized for my insensitivity.  In my mind, I’d still done nothing wrong and I’m certain Hyesuk could sense the insincerity in my carefully crafted words.  Regardless, I was forgiven.  Like me, I’m sure she just wanted the conflict, silence, and separation to end.  Years later, the clue bird finally landed.

 

While we lived in Misawa Japan, Hyesuk attended both an English-speaking and a Korean-speaking church.  Laura called the Korean church “The girl’s church” because almost the entire congregation’s membership was made up of military wives.   Attracted by tasty food, most of the husbands showed up for the social functions.  As expected, the feast served at a Valentine’s Day banquet we attended was delicious. However, the message the speaker delivered gave me an unexpected insight in to the Korean culture and a long-awaited reason for Hyesuk’s anger years before. 

The speaker began his message with a story.  A Korean man and woman have been married for over thirty years and never spent a day apart, until the man is called away to a far away country on a business trip.  Before going to bed he calls home to his wife.  What do you think she says to him?  He called on a few men and received answers like, “I miss you,” “I love you,” “How was your trip?” … He then asked one of the Korean women.  Without hesitation she responded, “Did you eat?”  He asked the wives what the next question would be, and one responded “What did you eat?  He then asked what the last thing she’d say, and the answer was “Don’t miss any meals.”  He then went on to explain the differences between Korean and American culture regarding food.   In Korea, the presentation and sharing of food is significantly more important in showing concern and expressing love. The message my wife received when I didn’t save her some of our “special” pizza was we didn’t care about her.  Today, I completely understand Hyesuk’s elation when our son Bobby called last week for help in making Hot Chicken Soup.  The dish is one his Mom’s specialties and one of Bobby’s favorites.  Most importantly, the message Hyesuk heard from her adult son was, I’m thinking of you and still need your love.  Thanks Bobby!  When your Mom is happy, everyone is happy.

I hijacked this from a friend's Facebook Posting
"'Understand Women' is finally out in paperback"

Regular Milk – Like the pizza incident with her mother, my first big clash with my daughter Laura caught me completely off guard.  I can’t remember what Hyesuk was doing that day or where she went, but once again I was left at home to fend for myself.  While my stories may seem to lend the appearance that Hyesuk was never home and I couldn’t take care of the house when she was out, neither is true.  Hyesuk was actually home most of the time and the vast majority of my successful days are way to boring to ever write about.  The story starts at lunchtime.

I’d prepared a simple meal and set the table.  When the kids were seated, I asked, “Would you like chocolate or white milk to drink?”  Bobby requested chocolate and Laura asked for regular.  Bobby accepted his drink with indifference, but when I placed the white milk in front of my four-year-old daughter, I received tearing eyes, folded arms, a stern face, and a view of her backside as she stormed out of the room.   She refused all my attempts to coax, threaten, and cajole her into coming back to the table to eat her lunch.  All day long I tried to pry out what was wrong, but she’d have nothing to do with me.  I was relieved when my wife finally came through the door.

Hyesuk went with Laura into her room to find out what was wrong.  I suspect she gave some sort of “all men are idiots and we have to learn to put up with them” speech.  When they came out Laura still wasn’t very warm to me, but I could tell she was finally heading back in the right direction.  Later that evening, Hyesuk filled me in on what I’d done.  In a quivering voice, Laura had told her mother, “I asked for regular milk and Dad gave me white milk.”  Unknown to me, Hyesuk and her daughter often prepared a special mixture of chocolate and white milk they called “regular” milk.  Laura expected to receive the same personal attention her Mom provided and was hurt when she thought I was disregarding her feelings.

If I could go back in time, I still wouldn’t give Laura “regular” milk or even the meal I most likely prepared that day.  I’d prepare her a meal of Naan bread with humus and an olive, avocado, tomato, and cucumber salad.  Her beverage choice would be between cranberry and pomegranate juice.   We can’t go back and erase our mistakes, but we can always try to please the person we know today.

The spark that sent me down this path. Thanks Cassa.

While some of our conflict is actually humorous and makes for good stories around the dining table, incidents causing genuine pain are another matter.   The moment we open our heart to someone, we’ve opened ourselves up to being hurt.  Many of the wrongs we wreak on each other don’t just go away when the initial emotional response subsides.   Our words and actions can seriously injure those we love and leave permanent scars.  It is hard to let things go, especially when you’re the injured party.  Reopening old wounds or continuing on with destructive behavior eventually destroys all trust and intimacy.  How do we forgive?

I don’t want to write about, or ever repeat, the harmful sins I’ve committed.  I also don’t want to store any anger in my heart over the damage others have inflicted on me or to make them pay again for a debt no longer owed.   I want to forgive and be forgiven, because I value those I love and don’t want to lose them.  I know it’s the only path to happiness.  How do we not forgive?

Out from The Wild - Political Ambiguity

I didn't have a camera when this story took place, but I still have my tent (pictured).  I'm sure my Mom remembers when I showed up at a wedding and camped out in the park across the street from the hotel where everyone else was staying.  On another note, I was amazed going through our pictures on how many of them there were with Laura holding our dog Sam.
 

It was late October in Northern Colorado and I was squatting in my tent up Poudre Canyon, near Ft Collins Colorado.   The nights were getting colder and I wasn’t sleeping well.  One part of me wanted to go to sleep, but another part of me was afraid of what might happen if I did.  I knew that I had to move indoors or head south if I wanted to continue waking up in the morning.

These days my wrinkled, bifocaled eyes see things a little better.  I actually had more options than moving indoors or heading south.  The options were actually all indoors, but ones I hadn’t considered.  I could’ve shown up at the door of family or friends (don’t be surprised when it happens next summer J ) I could’ve also gone home, but I didn’t want to even consider it.  I just couldn’t bear to show my Dad that I couldn’t make it on my own.   Today, I understand better why he was so hard on all of us (except Carol who turned out fine anyway).  His purpose for demanding high standards was to best prepare us for a tough world.

I remember standing at the front door of Columbine Products in the early morning darkness. I was shuffling my duct-taped tennis shoes back and forth to keep warm as the owner, Mr. Charles “Charley” Warren, arrived to start his day.    Charley was the second shrewdest businessman I’ve ever encountered.   He never wasted anything, never missed an opportunity, and would fight to the death over a penny.  I don’t think a week ever passed where I didn’t hear him complain about government regulation, particularly OSHA and the minimum wage.  For all his complaining, I’m convinced he was following the letter of the law and sincerely cared about the safety of his employees.  If it wasn’t for his honesty and compassion, I’m certain he could’ve easily been the shrewdest.
 

At the time, I didn’t care much for Charley and I don’t think he thought much of me.   For the previous few weeks, I’d been gathering pine cones and selling them to his factory to make Christmas wreaths.   Our negotiations didn’t have a friendly tone and it’s difficult to present a positive personal image when you’re living outdoors.  Since Charley already had all the pine cones needed for the season, I was there looking for a job.

Before he even opened the factory door, Charley told me that he’d try me out for two weeks and keep me employed through the middle of December if I worked out.  He told me to show up at the same time the next day in work boots and even offered to advance me the cost.  I politely declined his offer.  I had a few dollars put away.  Regardless, I’d have gone hungry before taking his money.

At the time, I held political beliefs that’d make Ron Paul look like a liberal.  I was certain that laziness and/or stupidity were the only reasons people fail in life.  I’d never applied for financial assistance to help out with school or made an unemployment claim when I was laid off numerous times from construction jobs.  I was strongly against “welfare” and I included both of these programs in my definition.  In retrospect, I know I wasn’t lazy.  However, stubbornness can easily approach the boundary of stupidity.

I wasn’t worried about keeping the job.  From an early age, I’d been trained very well to quickly do what I was told, to do what needed done without being told, and to always accomplish the job exactly the way the boss wanted  it done, regardless of whether I agreed.

That day, I purchased a pair of steel-toed boots from the Salvation Army and put a sizeable portion of my remaining cash down on a place to live.  I got a very good deal sharing an apartment with two mental patients.  I’ll eventually get around to sharing that experience, but today I’ll repress my natural inclination to chase rabbits and get back to the story.

Whenever lunch or break time rolled around, Charlie always invited me over to his workbench.  After the first few days, I caught on to what he was doing.  Almost all of our planning and coordination took place while I was off the clock or otherwise not productive.  The first week he hired another warehouse man (all the factory workers were women) and fired him the first day when he caught him smoking in the pine-bough-filled warehouse.  After that, he decided to work me more hours instead of hiring someone else.  The overtime hours actually approached a reasonable wage and being the only trained warehouseman gave me a greater sense of job security.  Even after the Christmas rush, Charlie kept me on part time until Memorial Day when the factory shut down for several months.  I’d made enough money to pay for a few night classes, cover my rent, and even had a little left over for a social life.  After I learned to see past Charley’s crusty exterior, we became good friends.

Just like those who are quick to judge those going through hard times, there are others who are just as quick to judge those in business.  Low paying jobs involving hard work are a magnet for criticism.  While Charley could only pay the minimum wage, he was liked and trusted by those he worked with.  Half his employees had been with him for 20 years or longer.  There were also a number of mothers and daughters working together.  While it wasn’t enough to make a living, I’m certain the seasonal work he provided paid for many Christmas presents and summer vacations.

Fresh out of World War II, Charley started a marginally viable business and kept it going for thirty five years.  Just as the Civil War was a defining event regarding America’s unity and individual equality, the sacrifices of Charley’s generation are responsible for the freedom and prosperity we share today.  World War II also defined Charley.  My first task of the day was to raise the American flag and the last was to take it down.   He was always there watching.   He deserved a portion of the American Dream.

Eventually, the years of hard labor took their toll and Charley had to retire.   His life’s work left him with little more (financially) than what he’d started out with.  He wasn’t able to sell the business. Everyone who looked at it couldn’t make the numbers work.  The man who took over did his best, but the business went under and a lot of good people lost their jobs.  The line between success and failure is often fine.

America’s success has led many to believe (previously myself) that common sense, hard work and a little luck are the only keys to a successful life.   They are, if you live in a society where widespread opportunity exists.  I’m positive a short visit to Sudan, Somalia, Haiti, or any country ending in “stan” would convince you that where, when, and the family you’re born into plays a much greater role.  Our individual success is predicated on the success of the society we live in.  John F. Kennedy used the phrase, “A rising tide raises all boats” many times to illustrate the individual benefits of societal progress.   America needs President Kennedy's vision.  On 21 Jul 1969, my Dad called me in from outside to watch Neil Armstrong take man's first step on the moon. I was ten years old and my Dad told me I'd always remember what we witnessed that day.  Sadly, it's been a long time since America last left footprints on the moon

I think many still believe that America’s freedom and prosperity is eternal.  Ronald Reagan said, "Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn't pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children's children what it was once like in the United States where men were free."  I've seen several of President Reagan's movies and he wasn't much of an actor.  In real life, I saw a man of true conviction and unquestionable sincerity.  If I was fooled, please don't tell me.  I'd break my heart.

From my tiny perch thousands of miles away in Korea, I see political division, selfish greed, and lack of vision eroding America’s economic foundation. A falling tide lowers all boats and a luxury yacht is of little use stranded on the rocks.  In just a few months we'll have a say in our future.  Without regards to political philosophy, I'd vote for anyone remotely possessing the leadership of President Kennedy or President Reagan.  Choose wisely, the line between success and failure is often fine.

The Kitchen Sink - Unveiling of a Sarcasm Font

The weather in Korea is bitterly cold today and I’ve cancelled my customary Saturday morning hike in the woods.   While Hyesuk has made me promise to go to the gym tonight, I’m free to do as I please for now.  I could take care of the dirty dishes in the kitchen, but I’ve instead succumbed to the temptation of sitting down at the computer with a hot cup of coffee.  Besides, I’m certain the dishes will mysteriously take care of themselves and I wouldn’t want to disturb the dreams of my dog Sam, who is curled up and sleeping at my feet.  I’ve noted the time and will let you know when the kitchen is clean.

Since I’ve been avoiding the computer and writing for the last month, my head is fairly full of thoughts and ideas I’d like to share.   No update yet on the dishes, but I now hear the sound of the washing machine in the background.

 

Sarcasm Font -   The idea for establishing a sarcasm font isn’t new.  The online community has long recognized a need to bridge the gapping divide between verbal and written understanding.  Painstaking efforts have even been made to create numerous sarcasm fonts from scratch.  All these well-meaning efforts have failed for one simple reason.  It’s nearly impossible to get everyone in the world to download and install the fonts on their computers.

Having lived in Asian countries for a good many years, I’ve witnessed their talent for taking a good idea and finding a way of putting a finished product into almost every American home.  I’m certain this cultural exposure was a significant factor in a flash of inspiration I experienced late last year.   Why don’t we just take a font that is already loaded on everyone’s computer and designate it as the “sarcasm font?”

Certain that worldwide designation and implementation of a sarcasm font was well beyond the capabilities of a single individual, I consulted extensively with a panel of experienced Information Technology professionals and leading sarcasm experts.   The overwhelming consensus pointed to Microsoft Word’s “Comic Sans” font as the ideal candidate.  Even without designation, sarcasm already seems to leap from the page whenever it is used.  To enhance the visual experience and provide an even greater level of granularity, the panel recommended using variations of green to further clarify meaning.  A lighter shade of green is intended to convey a light-hearted, friendly jab while the darker shades evoke cutting, even cruel, intentions.

 

While my daughter was visiting over Christmas vacation, I proudly informed her of my achievement.  Laura’s response was unexpected;

“Do you realize you’ve ruined sarcasm?  Now even the idiots will know when it’s being used.”

Ouch!  I now better understand Robert Oppenheimer’s reservations over developing the nuclear bomb.   Maybe, we’ve gone too far.

Kitchen Update- Sam is still sleeping and our dishes remain soaking in the kitchen sink. Noise from the washing machine, dryer, and vacuum cleaner is making it hard to concentrate, but I don’t see any benefit in opening my mouth.  Since it now appears to be taking a prominent role in today’s blog, I slipped over and took a picture of the dirty dishes.  It’s probably a crime in Hyesuk’s mind.  If necessary, I’ll ask for a pardon later.

A Belated Apology – When our parents would leave us “Home Alone” for a few days, they’d often ask my Uncle Chub and Aunt Doris to keep an eye on us.   On one particular occasion, Gary and I were thoroughly enjoying our vacation from parental authority.   However, enjoyment was quickly replaced with apprehension when our cousin Pam flagged us down on Main Street to let us know we were in a predicament.

 

Aunt Doris had dropped by the house to check on us.  Thirsty, she went to the kitchen sink to pour a glass of water.  Earlier that day, I’d placed a rubber band over the spray hose’s handle and pointed it to where I expected my brother would be standing.  After wiping herself dry, Aunt Doris headed downstairs and barely missed being drenched by a bucket of water triggered to dispense at the opening of a door.  She wisely left the premises to avoid any remaining booby traps.

While we spent the next few days looking over our shoulders for Uncle Chub and had to deal with Mom when she got home, I don’t believe I’ve ever directly apologized.  Aunt Doris, I’m sorry about spraying you.  Gary will have to apologize for the bucket.  I’m just thankful you didn’t open the utility room closet or make a snack out of any of the leftovers in the refrigerator ;)

Kitchen Update 2 - Sam has left my side for the kitchen.  Whenever, one of us is in the kitchen, Sam makes a point of hanging around.  You never know when something good will fall to the floor.   From my perspective, the sound of clanking dishes is preferable to the vacuum cleaner.

Forgiveness - I’ve decided to forgive my sister Chris for driving to school by herself and making Gary and I find our way on foot in the bitter Eastern Colorado winter.  I’ve come to the realization that the potential embarrassment of being seen with us certainly outweighed the short-term misery of our trek.  (Laura’s point about using the sarcasm font is starting to sink in).  If Chris can forgive her son Josh for setting the trunk of his car on fire, I’m now convinced that I’m genetically capable of finally letting this one go.  Forgiveness isn’t about rationalizing real or perceived offenses, it’s about letting them go.   What the world really needs is a sincerity font ;)

I forgive my Uncle Ed for stealing my Aunt June away from me.  From the moment I met her, I had a deep crush on her.  I don’t remember her exact words, but when asked what she thought about Uncle Ed, she told me that she wasn’t all that impressed with him.  A little spark of hope was enough to convince me she’d wait until I grew up.   While I wasn’t happy at the wedding, I still understood my Uncle Ed.  We shared the same infatuation, he did find her first, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about throwing him under a bus if I’d been given the opportunity.

I’m also forgiving my Aunt Sandy for spanking Gary and me with a hair brush.  I’m certain the original disciplinary action was more than well deserved and at a level barely noticeable on the scale of what we were accustomed to receiving on a regular basis.  I’ve brought the incident up every time I’ve seen her over the last 40 years and level of brutality she inflicted has been progressively exaggerated with each telling.  To be honest, I don’t think it has ever really bothered me.  I just enjoy bringing it up.

 At the risk of reopening a can of worms, I forgive my sister Carol and her friend Cassa for attacking me with a broom over a heated dishwashing dispute. I also owe her an apology and a thank you.  The apology is for my instigation of the attack and the thank you is for not ratting me out.   I wouldn’t have mentioned it all if the aggravated employment of a broom in a housework dispute wasn’t such a great segue into my next paragraph.

 An Interruption -  Have you ever stepped away from the computer, for just a moment, only to find that you’ve lost the whole weekend?  While I was intently reopening a can of worms with my younger sister, I was rudely interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone.  Hyesuk called asking for a ride home.  I hadn’t even realized she left the house.  On such a cold day, I have no idea how she got so far away on foot or why she didn’t take the car in the first place.  On my way out, I took a picture of the kitchen sink before adding the dishes that somehow gathered around the computer.

 I picked Hyesuk up and we went out for lunch and some shopping.  Why is a brisk hike in the woods invigorating, but a slow meander behind a shopping cart so exhausting?  Washing the car, a trip to Seoul and a Super Bowl (Monday morning in Korea) later, my three-day weekend is left with only a few remaining hours.  Fortunately, Hyesuk is at work and I’ve left my cell in another room on vibrate.

Foregiveness resumes – I forgive my sweet wife for maliciously pursuing me through our home with a broom and forcing me to barricade myself in a bathroom in mortal fear for my life.  We’d been married for a little over a year and some good friends were coming over for dinner.  Time was running short and Hyesuk was asking me to help get the house ready.  My strategy to continue sitting on the couch watching TV and ignore her seemed to be working.  However, I didn’t like the tone of her fourth request, and responded with, “Why should I have to help?  You’re the one who invited them.”  A fierce shriek and a fiery-eyed, broom-waving terror coming at me from the kitchen brought me instantly to my feet and darting for the bathroom.  My heart beating fast from adrenalin, I planted myself firmly against the door as Hyesuk vented her rage.

After the initial turmoil subsided, I negotiated the terms of my surrender.   If she promised not to hit me, I’d come out and help.  To this day, she claims she never had any violent intention and was just trying to scare me.   If true, I think she missed her calling as an actress.   

A New Ending - My original plan for ending for this blog was to graciously display my mature domestic wisdom (and prevent Broom Attack II) by taking Hyesuk somewhere nice for lunch. Displaying a picture of the clean sink at the end would neatly conclude the housework thread and give everyone a heartwarming sense of closure.  However, that was two days ago. Today, I’m torn between cleaning up the mess I’ve made and taking a nap.  The nap idea seems to be winning.  Maybe I’ll wake up in time to clean the kitchen and make dinner.  In case I don’t, I’ll hide the broom.

“Yes Laura, There is a Tooth Fairy”

Yesterday, my daughter bought some old Korean coins to take back to Hawaii as souvenirs.  In hopes of swindling her out of an especially valuable coin, I went searching for a large cache of old coins I’d picked up years ago.    While searching, I came across some other treasure I’d squirreled away.

When Laura started losing her baby teeth, she was reluctant to put a tooth under her pillow.  “Dear, who ever is taking this tooth“, accurately describes her level of belief.  She was disappointed when she received the standard two quarters.  As a little girl, Laura’s adult-like skepticism and already razor-sharp sarcasm had me a little worried. I was afraid she’d eventually mature into a modern-day Scrooge, living alone in a large mansion with a multitude of cats.  Fortunately, the “Tooth Fairy” intervened.

Convincing her to participate was even more difficult when she lost her second tooth a few weeks later.  “Fifty cents isn’t worth it!”  After a sermon, “When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with the wrong motives,” and a long discussion on how our attitude influences those around us, she agreed to try again.   Her touching message overwhelmed even the hard-hearted capitalistic inclinations of the Tooth Fairy, and Laura was elated to find a ten-dollar bill under her pillow.

When another tooth loosened up, Laura enthusiastically worked it free.  Not only did the message now come with love from “A special freind” (sic), but she added a quarter to sweeten the deal.

Laura is flying home to Hawaii this afternoon and I asked her this morning who was picking her up at the airport.  She replied, “Someone will.”  My thanks go out to both the Tooth Fairy and the friend who receives her call from the airport.