A Day in the Dog House

 

I'm in the Dog House. I'd gotten away pretty much unscathed from the land mines I planted in last week’s "Truth" blog, but inadvertently stepped on one this weekend. After finding out about Laura’s friend, Hyesuk launched a full-scale Internet investigation and wasn’t all too pleased with some of the information she was uncovering. It was probably wrong of me not to let her know she was researching the wrong young man or let it go on for so long, but I fell prey to free entertainment and was tempted by the interesting story possibilities. Also, I really should learn to speak softly, because Hyesuk never damaged her ears listening to loud music and overheard me sharing the details of her Snipe Hunt on the phone with Laura. In an agitated voice, she let me know, “When you turned 50, you suddenly became a gossipy old woman. I liked you better when you could keep your mouth shut!" I had a glimmer of hope when Hyesuk made me a boiled egg for breakfast this morning. However, my brief optimism on an imminent parole vaporized when she casually informed me she'd also given one to our dog Sam. I know where I’ll be spending the rest of my day J

 

When Laura was a little girl, sending her to her room as punishment never worked. She would hold her head high and march briskly away proclaiming "I want to go to my room!"  Like Laura, I hereby loudly announce,  “I WANT to go to the Dog House!”  Fortunately, mine has a recliner, big screen TV with surround sound, and an adjacent computer room.  Now if I can only convince Sam to leave his heated pad next to Hyesuk in the living room and join me.  I’ve always enjoyed the loyal companionship of dogs.

When I was visiting Mom several years ago, she gave me a portfolio of mementos she’d saved from my childhood. Reading this story over again today, I’m glad my teacher didn’t catch all my mistakes. As Laura and Bobby know quite well, getting a “B” or even a “B+” in grade school pretty much destroys your chances of ever being successful in life. ;) Most importantly, the fourth sentence clearly documents how I felt about dogs as an 8-year-old, “I was glad, because I liked dogs.” Today, I’d be reluctant to write such a controversial piece. Mentioning firearms would certainly result in counseling, if not suspension ;)



My Dog Penny



I’ve always had a strong attachment to dogs. Mom tells a story, from when I was very little, where I was asked to pray at the dinner table.Before starting, I contemplated out loud, “Well …what should I ask for? ...don’t need a dog, already got one.” Even at a young age, I had a pretty good insight into the more important things in life.I fondly remember chasing homemade boats (BB gun in hand) with my dog Penny along an irrigation ditch near our home in Buena Vista Colorado. While there might be some understandable, even though misguided, disagreement with my siblings, I’m absolutely confident Penny was my dog. I just shared her with the rest of the family.What parent wouldn’t want to pass on the joy of canine companionship?What child can resist the suggestion they need a dog?

 

 

 

It goes without saying the two kids jumping up and down were on board, but convincing Hyesuk her children required the unconditional love of a dog wasn’t as easy. A military lifestyle makes keeping pets difficult and even the thought of dog hair was at odds with her cultural obsession with household cleanliness. Convincing her a little dog with short hair wouldn’t be a problem moved her a little. Laura's pleading eyes closed the deal.



My favorite picture of Sam. Taken near Buena Vista Colorado

with My brother's dog Scooter during a cross-country camping vacation.



Our dog Sam turned 15 last December.  He’s almost completely deaf, blind in one eye, and as Bobby commented the Christmas before last, “I’m pretty sure Sam has some mental problems.”  Otherwise, he’s still in pretty good shape and seems to be happy (maybe the mental problems are a blessing).   He’s only recently put on a little weight (strangely parallels my own experience). We normally refrained from feeding him table food as he was growing up, so he hasn’t fallen prey to the back problems many dachshunds experience.  He’ll still chase down his tennis ball every opportunity I give him.  In our sport, he doesn’t give up the ball easily.  He stands in front of me growling until I forcibly remove the ball and give it another fling.   The game used to end when I got tired of throwing the ball and Sam would stride triumphantly over to his bed with the prize.  Now, he’s prone to claim his victory long before I tire.  Regardless, Sam always wins.



 

 

I wish I could say Sam was also my dog, but it wouldn’t be true.  Sam is Laura’s dog. He was the runt of the litter and was being picked on by his brother when we went to choose our pet. Laura thought he needed her protection.  She spent the most time with him. If Laura was going outside, Sam was always welcome to go along.  She was always affectionate to him. When Sam needed scratched behind the ears, Laura was always willing to oblige. I also have a strong suspicion Laura covertly violated Sam's "No Table Food" restriction. I completely understand Sam's attachment to Laura, but I'm a little confused over his complete devotion to Hyesuk.

 

 

My confidence over Sam being Laura's dog is equally matched by a certainty Hyesuk is his nemesis. Her uncanny ability to control human beings through sheer force of will has never worked with Sam. Both of my kids know all to well the dreaded finger shake, the steely-eyed stare down and especially  the crossed arms "Stop that!"  Interestedly enough, a complete lack of success hasn’t hindered her in the slightest. 

   

 

Sam has always liked sleeping on clothes, particularly Hyesuk's,  and still goes to great lengths to satisfy his obsession.  If anything is left remotely within his reach, he'll go to great lengths to gain possession.  Even after all these years, Hyesuk thinks yelling at him will somehow dilute his fixation.   Regardless of her tenacity, if she as so much leaves a shirt draped across a chair, Sam eventually takes ownership. Conversely, the battle of wills has only strengthened Sam's total commitment to her. Sam starts barking whenever I give Hyesuk a hug. If I shake her a little, Sam growls and nips at my ankles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm certain when my kids see this picture; they'll stand up with hands on heads and gasp in total shock.  They'll completely understand their Mom pulling a blanket over her head to avoid an early morning picture, but I'm certain they'll have a hard time believing Sam's presence on the bed (let alone under the blanket).  Just to set the record straight, I didn't stage the photo.  I didn't put the camera on a tripod and cover up my own face.  Also, I don't even know how to use Photoshop.  Bobby and Laura will just have to accept their Mom went soft on a cold day.  I'm certain Sam was equally conflicted between enjoying the comfortable warmth and a lingering feeling of impending doom.

 

 

 

Most of our pictures are in storage and I couldn't find many pictures of Bobby and Sam (none of myself).  Bobby's cousin Josh was the influence behind wearing his hat backwards.

 

Sam’s record as a hunter has been remarkable.  While his diminutive size has limited his victims to the smaller variety; mostly birds, mice, geckos and roaches, he's more than made up for it in quantity.  Unfortunately, he’s also removed Bobby’s parakeet and a visiting hamster (see http://kellykonecne.blogspot.kr/2012/03/save-jerry-tale-of-murder-canabilism.html )

from their earthly existence.   He was exceptionally adept at taking out the rather large variety  roaches in Hawaii.  Whenever, Hyesuk encountered one, she’d yell “SAM, ROACH!” and he’d come running to take it out.  I’m sure her enthusiasm and praise encouraged Sam’s common practice of delivering the prey he found and vanquished on his own to her feet.   







A picture of Sam when he was still a minature dachshund.  Unfortunately, pictures of Chocolate are all in storage

In California, Sam shared the yard with a large rabbit named Chocolate.  Hyesuk liked to go outside and holler “SAM, WHERE’S CHOCOLATE!”  Sam would take after Chocolate, and Chocolate would run away for a while.  Eventually, Chocolate would have enough and turn to fight.  Sam’s usual response was to keep his distance and bark for a while.  The few times he didn't, he paid the price.  Chocolate was tough (approaching mean) and twice Sam’s size.  Long after Chocolate found a new home, Hyesuk entertained herself by sending Sam into a frenzied search  by yelling his name. 

 

 

 

 

 

 Bobby and Laura used to play a game they called "Bucket Heads."  They'd walk around the house with buckets on their heads and a lunch box in hand.  I never really understood why they carried lunch boxes, but I guess it makes just about as much sense as wearing the buckets.  Unfortunately, the game usually ended in tears and little sympathy from their Mom.  "What did you think was going to happen when you started walking around with buckets on your head?"  You can tell Bobby has more experience.  He's cautiously feeling his way around.  On the other hand, Laura is confidently striding directly toward the blocks she dumped from her bucket earlier and a likely second place finish.  For anyone considering turning us in to Child Protective Services, both kids are over 21 now and I'm fairly certain we're well beyond the statute of limitations.  At first glance, this photo seems off topic.  That is until you see the eery similarity in the next one.

 

 

 Sam has his own game called, "anything that hits the floor belongs to me." Unfortunately, being on all fours and not having opposable thumbs seriously limits his ability to carry a lunch box.  Please note that anyone considering turning me in to the Humane Society for running for the camera instead of immediately coming to his aid should probably reconsider.  The event took place in Korea, well outside their jurisdiction, and where regrettably the distinction between pet and dinner is often blurred.

 

 

 

Hyesuk bought Sam a heating pad last fall to keep him warm. She’s also relaxed the rules on table food. I bought a case of hot dogs and every day when I arrive home he follows me to the refrigerator and I give him half of one.  The other day I came home and sat down on the couch first.  He almost went berserk until I fulfilled my responsibility.  I guess you can teach an old dog.  You just have to be loud and persistent.

 

 

 

Hyesuk's treatment of Sam is encouraging.  While she seems to be mean today, someday she'll make sure I keep warm and let me eat anything I want to.

 



Very few dogs ever really master proper pillow usage



 

Telling the Truth, Keeping Secrets, and Paying the Piper

 I had this picture on my computer until my wonderful wife “nagged” me into removing it the other day.   She didn’t like the way she looked and I allowed myself to be bullied into compliance.  Today, every grain of wisdom I’ve accumulated over fifty some years is whispering “reconsider.”  Regardless, my mind is made up.  I’m posting it to the Internet.

 

This is my current wallpaper, completely vetted and approved by my lovely soul mate.  I think she likes being a little taller.  Actually, she’s really just standing on a rock and everyone needs to know it because “it’s the truth!”  

 

I have a good deal of firsthand experience with telling the truth.  During the first few years of our marriage, Hyesuk fastidiously ironed my clothes.  However, my good fortune suddenly ended one cold rainy day in Misawa Japan.   As I was dressing for work, I made an offhand remark, “You didn’t do a very good job ironing my uniform.”  At the time, I didn’t realize the ramifications of her instant response to my totally honest declaration.   “I’ll never iron for you again!”  Twenty some years down the road, the sincerity of her long past pronouncement is completely understood.   Now that I’ve opened a can of worms with all this honesty, I’ve pretty much guaranteed that Hyesuk will be opening her own can of something.   Maybe, I should’ve put more thought into keeping quiet.

 

Hyesuk is much better at pragmatically deciding what should be shared and when best to keep silent, but even she has moments of weakness.   A few months back, during a relaxing dinner out on the town, and after atypically imbibing a glass of red wine, she opened up and shared, “Do you realize that when you get mad, you clam up and compulsively start working?  You wash the car, do the laundry, clean the house, …” Then she leaned forward and whispered, “Do you want to know something else?”  “I sometimes start fights just to get things done.”  After well over twenty years of golden eggs, an appropriate mourning period for Hyesuk’s deceased goose will be observed.   I’m also considering bringing home a bottle of red wine.

 

I’m assuming the gene determining the brain’s control of the tongue is passed down from the mother’s side, because both our kids, Bobby in particular, take after their Mom.  While I wasn’t able to extract a confession, Bobby’s panicked face and wild eyes betrayed him while the TV remote was violently microwaving.  As for Laura, her earlier possession of a grilled cheese sandwich made her the prime suspect when a remarkably similar sandwich showed up inside the VCR.   Unfortunately, I’ve never conclusively identified the culprit(s) responsible for our greatest unsolved household crime.    I’m sure both of them remember making “Chicken Soup” when they were little kids growing up in Japan.  They enjoyed mixing dirt, water, leaves, grass, and anything else readily available in their red wagon.  I’d still like to know whose idea it was to take it a step farther.  Fortunately, my smiling supervisor readily accepted, “I stuck my foot in a boot full of mud” as a credible reason for being late.  While pleading the Fifth is understandable, keeping quiet out of concern for another can even be admirable.

 

One day when Bobby was in Kindergarten, Hyesuk sat down on the couch and closed her eyes for a moment.  When her eyes opened again, they could see from the clock on the wall the time for picking Bobby up was more than an hour past.  She rushed to the school in a panic and was relieved to find Bobby patiently waiting on the steps.  That evening, I asked Bobby why he didn’t go to the office for help.  He replied, “I knew Mom would come and I didn’t want to get her in trouble.”  While I was pretty firm with him on what to do the next time, I was secretly proud of his confidence and selfless concern for his Mom.  Since it never happened again, I’ll never know if my occasionally stubborn son would’ve ever followed my direction.

 

While we’re on the subject of Kindergarten, I’d like to share another story.  Our military tour in Misawa Japan ended two weeks before Bobby was to complete Kindergarten.   He was livid about not leaving. “If I don’t finish ‘X’, ‘Y’, and ‘Z’, my future will be ruined!”  Even though he’d already learned the entire alphabet by 18 months, his Mom’s fanatical indoctrination on the importance of education overwhelmed my feeble attempts to reason with him, “You don’t need ‘X’ and ‘Z’ at all to get by in life and missing ‘Y’ won’t hurt you very much.”  Despite Bobby’s adamant objection, we still had to leave early.  Fortunately, he overcame adversity and will soon prove me right by graduating from college.  Regardless, he can still keep a secret.

 

A couple of months back, Bobby called me at work about going to the emergency room and the status of his health insurance.  My first question after, “How bad are you hurt?” was “Did you tell your Mom?”  After getting the answers I hoped for, “I’ll live” and “Are you kidding?”  We both knew his Mom would be on the first plane to Hawaii if her baby had so much as a hangnail.  I let him know he he’d been insured for two weeks and that he should probably send a thank you note to President Obama.   In keeping with my current theme of political ambiguity, I’m not going to choose sides.  However, allowing parents to insure their kids until they are 26 makes sense.  In contrast, I cringe at the requirements being levied on small businessmen.   Getting back to Bobby’s predicament, I’m somewhat sorry for ratting you out Son. Hey, but I guess that’s just the price you’re going to have to pay for keeping secrets from your Mom.

 

Laura can keep quiet, but she also likes to share.  One day, when she was a very little girl, Laura whispered softly to me, “Daddy, tell me a secret.”  With little thought, I whispered back in her tiny ear the first thing that came to mind and she ran away giggling.  Every so often over the next few years, she’d pull me aside and ask, “What’s our secret?” and I’d gladly oblige in continuing our sweet ritual.  When asked last Christmas, Laura still remembered our game, but also shared she’d never really been all that impressed with the actual secret.  I considered letting everyone make their own judgment by revealing it today, but truthfully it isn’t something I’m ready to let it go.  Besides, I’m about to divulge considerably more interesting information.

 

During a phone conversation several weeks back, Laura asked, “Has Bobby told you anything about getting hit by a car on his skateboard?”  I didn’t know anything about a car.  From our short emergency room conversation, I knew he had an accident and was scrapped up pretty good, but we never got around to discussing how it actually happened.  Bobby rides a long skateboard for transportation and also races down steep inclines at high rates of speed for recreation.  I just assumed he took a fall doing the latter.  Regardless, I’m sure Bobby’s Mom will collect any other relevant details I neglected to gather.   Laura also casually mentioned she saw Bobby’s friends pushing his truck to get it going.  This I knew about.  Bobby went to the junk yard to get a new starter.  After watching a video on YouTube, he successfully accomplished the installation and pocketed the savings for more meaningful uses.  I was so proud!  Then she suggested I ask Bobby about his Espresso machine.  Talk about strange, I just finished the last sentence and Laura called.

 

Not only was the timing of Laura’s call extremely eerie, but the ensuing conversation handed me (and probably Bobby) a much welcome “Get out of Jail Free Card” and necessitated a significant change to my outline.  I originally planned to deflect some of Hyesuk’s potential rage by reminding her of one of Laura’s blog postings.

 

http://hoorayitslaura.blogspot.kr/2011/07/37365-nostalgia-and-angry-korean-mother.html

 

Laura knows how to push her Mom’s buttons and has a knack for capturing her response in photographs and video.  I wonder if Laura suffered any emotional scars over being hit with a cardboard tube?  I also wonder what Hyesuk’s response to the next paragraph will be?

 

 On the phone, Laura told me she was considering bringing a young man with her to Korea this summer and wanted to know if I had any problem with it.  Of course I have a problem!  South Korea doesn’t have the right to bear arms and I’ll be robbed of the opportunity to perform the traditional cleaning of the firearms as he walks in the door.  On the other hand, I do have a friend who owns a vintage polygraph machine.  Actually, I know I don’t have to protect Laura.  She is her Mother’s daughter and can take care of herself.  Regardless, I’m always available if needed.   Laura promised me a photo and I would’ve liked to include it in this posting.  On the other hand (if necessary) I can always tell Hyesuk, “I’ll let you see the picture when you start acting amicably towards me again.” :)

 

I’ve told the truth, I’ve kept and shared secrets, and I’m  now ready to make my closing arguments to a trusted jury of family and friends.

 

 

 

Take a closer look at the picture through my eyes.  One gaze and I travel back to a relaxing vacation in a cabin on the beach in Hawaii.  I see a night owl who reluctantly crawled out of her cozy bed to watch the sunrise with her early bird husband.  I smell the sweet aroma of coffee and feel the warmth of the cup.  I hear the surf lapping against the shore and pleasant conversation on a leisurely stroll down a secluded beach.  Most importantly, I feel her overwhelming presence and see the ever present spark in her eyes.  I truly love this picture and hope she’ll see it anew.

 

After casting all this bread on the water, I’ll sit here anxiously awaiting its return.  Will Bobby be aggravated with me for spilling the beans about his accident, or will he be preoccupied with his Mom?  Will conflict arise over the little tidbits Laura shared and I disclosed?   Will I have to use my “Get of Jail Free photo? “ What will happen if I tell Hyesuk, “You didn’t do a very good job shopping today?”  Most importantly, will my words bring back aggravation or affection from Hyesuk?  Right now, it’s too close to call so I’m preparing for both.  I’ve already cleaned the house, washed the car and finished the laundry. 

 

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?