Hi everyone.
Well, a few things. Two of my coworkers finished
their contracts this last week: Jared and James were
nice guys, but now they're travelling and will head
back to Canada soon. I have a new roommate -- I moved
across the hall so that I could have a guy roommate
instead of Melissa. His name is Anthony, he's from
northern England, and he's a pretty nice guy. Also,
April came from North Carolina and she's nice too.
The big bonus came at work, when I was playing a song
that I'd put on my work computer (while doing other
important work, of course), and April turned around
and said, "Is that the. . . and named the (somewhat
obscure) band?" Turns out both these new roomies are
the same kinds of avid music fans I am, which makes me
think we 'll have a lot of great conversations about
music, and which is a great starting point for the
rest of the friendship.
but my mailing address is still the same as before.
Please continue sending all gifts, money orders, tins
of Tim Hortons coffee, magazine subscriptions, Far
Side Collections, cards and fanmail to
*** if you know me, you know how to contact me. this is published online,
so I've taken personal information out of the e-mails.***
I saw Matt get married three weekends ago, and it was
fantastic. Matt's best friends came from Canada, and
my theory that Matt's true superpower is attracting
high quality human beings into his circle of
friendship, has been confirmed. To a person, the
people who came out to see the wedding were cool,
kind, fun, and generally about twelve different kinds
of awesome. So that was cool. My ex-girlfriend
Exgirfriendoseyo (the bride's twin sister) was there, of course,
but we've been doing some work to get back to a place
of friendship, and so that was all fine. She even
sent me her toast to the bride, and I proof-read it
for her. (She did a great job.)
Other than that. . . things have been going as usual
at work, I'm excited about the new roommates, it's
getting warmer, all good things. I don't get to tell
as many stories in my new classes as I did before, but
I'm mostly OK with that. I still have a lot of
laughs.
Gloria's one of the sweet, cute little five year olds
that just started. She likes me a lot, and she'll
come over and play with me during break times. One
day she came running through the play room, chasing
her friend Sophia, and I called her name, "Gloria!
Come play!" Usually she answers that summons with a
big smile on her face, but this time, she paused in
the doorway, looked back and said, very
matter-of-factly, "Teacher, me busy," and ran off.
I can't say I've ever been blown off so cutely.
Usually, when they're my age, and a girl doesn't want
to spend time with me, I'm at least partly unhappy,
but this time I was all goo.
Another time, we were talking about butterflies in my
older class, and I asked,
"what do you call a baby butterfly?" (They all know
the story "the very hungry caterpillar", so I figured
this would be an easy one.)
Arooh says, "Butter?"
I laughed. "No, Arooh. That's not what you call a
baby butterfly. Do you know, Eric? What do you call
a baby butterfly?"
"Sweetie?"
Eric got two laugh stickers for that answer.
"What is the smartest animal?" (dolphin)
No answers.
"It starts with a D."
"David?" (one of the students in the class' name)
The dinosaur "Apatosaurus" was recently renamed
"A-potato-saurus" by my student Lucas.
My student Harry recently wore a t-shirt to class that
bore the English letters:
"Your gsehkd dsfje fhdawj your jgwqd wedsh." The
literal translation is "English characters look cool
on a t-shirt."
One day I wore my Superman T-shirt to school. The
kids always get excited when I wear the Superman
shirt.
"Teacher. You are Superman!"
"Yes. I am Superman. You are Super-Tom! Hello
Super-Tom."
"Hello Superman."
"Hello Super-Ryan."
"Hello Superman."
"Hello Super-Annie."
"Hello Superman." (The students all think this is
great fun.)
"Hello Super-Kate."
"Hello Supermarket."
And the kids are sweet, too. The other day I was
playing Beethoven's ninth during lunch time, and the
kids were eating quietly, and during the famous ending
theme, a few of the kids started spontaneously moving
to the grand, expansive feeling of the music. It
reminded me again how powerfully and unconsciously
music jumps right through our guards, and how
intuitively responsive these kids can be. Fantastic.
I teach gym class every day now, and I play a game
where the kids have to dance, and when I pause the
music, they all have to freeze. I get to play some of
my best cheerful music, the kids get to dance, and I
get wildly entertained by the silly dances I call out
for the kids. "Do an elephant dance!" "Do a rabbit
dance!" "Do a fat tummy dance!" (it also gives me
great ideas for when I go out dancing with my friends.
Hee hee hee.) Music makes me happy. I'm writing a
lot these days. Quite good stuff, too (especially the
poetry). And finishing a lot of stuff that's been in
progress for a long time. Seeing these things take
form is very satisfying. I feel better these days --
like the changes that have been trying to push through
are starting to take shape, and the things I've lived
through are starting to make me a new person, rather
than just creating tension within the person I can no
longer quite be.
I'm starting to see more colours. I'm starting to be
happy with my friends, and my situation. These are
good things.
So change my phone number in my address book.
More later.
love
Rob Oprivacyhand
Here's one of the poems I wrote. If you don't like
poetry, I'll sign off here, and you can pretend it's
just the quote that goes after my signature, and
ignore it as such. If you do like poetry, then you'll
wonder why I'm so apologetic.
Love you all.
Rob
"The Potter"
Slow, dust pushing
against each knucklebend,
heavy with riverbanks'
earthy murmurs,
the pottetr's dirty
mud-slick hands
banish the whole room
except the wheel
the clay
and the air pouring
into a new emptiness.
More perfecting
the vessel's
startling new capacity
than shaping walls
both spinning
and motionless,
the potter
sets a potential
into what once
was only mud,
and by preparing it for them,
also creates
all the things
it will one day contain.
one expat's life in Korea
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
Update (March 2003)
Annyong Haseyo is about how you say "hello" in Korean.
This letter is almost expected (and maybe even
anticipated) by most of the people it reaches. It is
the first update letter to a few of you, and for some
of you, it is a totally out of the blue
first-letter-I've-ever-sent-you.
So here's the basics:
I am currently teaching English as a Second Language
to children in Seoul, Korea (I live just south of the
Han River), which can be found on most maps, in the
eastern end of Seoul. I occasionally send letters out
to my friends and contacts this way. I do not expect
you to respond, but if you do want to, I'd like to
hear from you -- if you'd please write a letter with a
little more to it than "got your letter. thanks"
(also, please delete my e-mail's text in your reply,
so that I don't have a bunch of 9K one-line notes in
my inbox).
Please do not send forwards, petitions, sweet stories,
protest e-mails, cute jokes, or "sunshiny thoughts of
the day" to this address -- if you write me, I'd
prefer it was written by your own hand. Since I send
out updates, I can't expect you to write me only
totally personalized letters, but at least my bulk
letters are original.
And now, enough business, as a teacher of mine used to
say, let's get down to meat.
The PC room where I am writing this stinks of
cigarette smoke. This does not please me -- one of my
kids asked me if I smoke today (we were learning about
jobs, and I taught them the word "soldier" which
sounds close to the word "soju," a traditional Korean
alcohol that tastes really gross. Then one of them
asked if I like "Mekju" (beer) and I said "not much,"
and then he asked if I like cigarettes). No, indeed.
The smell of cigarettes is all around this city (I
swear, if cars were outlawed tomorrow, the air in
Seoul would still by hazy from all the cigarettes).
Yet I love this place. Last night at ten o'clock, I
was walking one of my coworkers home after dinner, and
we passed some kids -- about two and three or so -- in
the street. They were playing with these little glow
sticks that flash in different colours and make really
neat patterns when you wave them in the air. I
greeted one with the children's greeting: "Anniyong"
and she said "Anniyong" back with the sweetest little
girl's voice. My knees almost gave out. I want to
learn Korean just so I can play with the little kids.
One of the little girls in one of my classes has a
crush on me. Her name is Serina. She's about six or
seven, has a cute round face and a sweet smile (and
adorable, pinchable cheeks, a common feature in Korean
children), and she wrote me a love note a few weeks
ago that said, approximately,
"Dear teacher (rob teacher)
I like teacher. Teacher draw good. I like draw.
Teacher good teacher. Teacher is funny. I am happy.
Teacher is good teacher. Serina like teacher!!!!!!!
heart heart
heart
heart"
That's about her command of English. Her mother has
written me two notes thanking me for teaching her
daughter as well, and the notes said that Serina says
English is her favourite subject, that she likes her
teacher, she studies hard, and her mom (Lee Il Su) is
"glad Serina interested English." Then, last
Thursday, she confirmed my suspicions that she fancied
me when first, she asked a girl to trade seats with
her so she could sit beside me, and then, after class,
she walked me to the stairwell to the staff room and
tried her VERY best to have a casual conversation. It
went about like this.
Serina: "Hi teacher."
Rob Teacher (which is what they call me): "Hi Serina.
How are you?"
S: "I am fine thank you, how are you?" (all the kids
say "fine, thank you, how are you" as if they learned
it phonetically)
RT: "I'm happy."
S: "Good." (pause) "Spring is soon."
RT: "Yes. Today is warm."
S: "Yes. I like spring. Do you like spring?"
RT: "I like summer more."
S: "I don't like summer. I like spring."
RT: "In Canada, summer is not as rainy as in Korea."
(Korea has a monsoon season)
S: " " (puzzled face)
RT: "Korea summer, many many rain;" (spread out arms
to show 'many many') "in Canada summer, little rain."
(hold hands closer together to show 'less than Korea')
Then I was at the stairwell door. Her face had
changed so I suspected she understood, and I said
goodbye. Really sweet kid. I wish I could take her
home with me or something.
I have another kid who's a HUGE pest in class, but
between class he'll come up to me and hug me and sit
in my lap -- he likes me, but he just doesn't know how
to sit still. Worst of all (I guess), he's really
funny -- he says things (in Korean -- he never stops
talking Korean) that gets all the other kids laughing
and distracted, so it's impossible to get anything
done in class. I get really upset at him in class,
but after class he's really sweet. Today I made him
write lines, and on Thursday I'll do it again if I
have to, until he gets it that I'm the boss, and not
him. I can't even send him out in the hall, because
he'll try to come back in, and when I'm struggling to
keep a five year old from getting his foot in the
door, it's really hard to keep the rest of the class
from laughing at me. And of course, once teacher has
lost his dignity, the lesson plan is shot. And then
he'll be almost quiet, not bothering anyone, maybe not
paying attention, but at least not distracting people,
and all at once he'll tip his chair too far and fall
over. And then I'm a goner too, and once teacher
laughs, the lesson plan is shot. At this rate, it's
gonna take me six months to get through the alphabet.
But yeah. I like my classes. I like my kids. I
badly need to learn more Korean -- I met two girls a
few weeks ago who are ready to schedule a language
exchange with me on week-ends, but I have to find a
time that works for all of us. I think I'm going to
have to sign up for some classes somewhere,
ultimately, and just bite the bullet and fork over the
won. Oh well. It'll be worth it if I can play with
Korean children by the time I go home. (I had a yes
yes yes no no no fight with a kid in the halls today
between classes. It reminded me of yes/no fights with
my nephew and how much fun they are).
So yes, I still miss all of you heaps. I am so
thankful to those of you who've kept in touch. It's
really encouraging. If I haven't replied to your
letter and you want me to, send me a reminder to get
on it. I am constantly talking about my brother and
my family and my friends to my roommate Dave (I asked
him how he felt about that once and he said "man, just
shoot me in the head now." -- but he means that
jokingly). I really like my roommate. He's hooked me
up with some really cool people so far.
Unfortunately, another of the things happenning is
that I need to find a new church. There was a church
near here that has English language services, but the
congregation was simply too Korean -- I found that I
couldn't fit into the community. The language barrier
was simply too intimidating, both for me and for them.
If I were two-thirds, half, or even one-third fluent
in Korean, it'd be possible, but as it is, I just
can't take part. So I'm going to look into some
English churches for foreigners that can be found in
Itaewon, the foreigner section of Seoul (it's right
near the US Army base.)
So pray that I find a community where I can feel like
I belong, and pray that the community I find also has
some inroads or connections to Korean lessons -- if I
can take Korean lessons through a church, I can't
think of a more ideal situation to be in for filling
both my goal to find a community AND my goal to learn
Korean.
Thank you for your support, through e-mails and
prayers. I love you all.
Rob Ouwehand
This letter is almost expected (and maybe even
anticipated) by most of the people it reaches. It is
the first update letter to a few of you, and for some
of you, it is a totally out of the blue
first-letter-I've-ever-sent-you.
So here's the basics:
I am currently teaching English as a Second Language
to children in Seoul, Korea (I live just south of the
Han River), which can be found on most maps, in the
eastern end of Seoul. I occasionally send letters out
to my friends and contacts this way. I do not expect
you to respond, but if you do want to, I'd like to
hear from you -- if you'd please write a letter with a
little more to it than "got your letter. thanks"
(also, please delete my e-mail's text in your reply,
so that I don't have a bunch of 9K one-line notes in
my inbox).
Please do not send forwards, petitions, sweet stories,
protest e-mails, cute jokes, or "sunshiny thoughts of
the day" to this address -- if you write me, I'd
prefer it was written by your own hand. Since I send
out updates, I can't expect you to write me only
totally personalized letters, but at least my bulk
letters are original.
And now, enough business, as a teacher of mine used to
say, let's get down to meat.
The PC room where I am writing this stinks of
cigarette smoke. This does not please me -- one of my
kids asked me if I smoke today (we were learning about
jobs, and I taught them the word "soldier" which
sounds close to the word "soju," a traditional Korean
alcohol that tastes really gross. Then one of them
asked if I like "Mekju" (beer) and I said "not much,"
and then he asked if I like cigarettes). No, indeed.
The smell of cigarettes is all around this city (I
swear, if cars were outlawed tomorrow, the air in
Seoul would still by hazy from all the cigarettes).
Yet I love this place. Last night at ten o'clock, I
was walking one of my coworkers home after dinner, and
we passed some kids -- about two and three or so -- in
the street. They were playing with these little glow
sticks that flash in different colours and make really
neat patterns when you wave them in the air. I
greeted one with the children's greeting: "Anniyong"
and she said "Anniyong" back with the sweetest little
girl's voice. My knees almost gave out. I want to
learn Korean just so I can play with the little kids.
One of the little girls in one of my classes has a
crush on me. Her name is Serina. She's about six or
seven, has a cute round face and a sweet smile (and
adorable, pinchable cheeks, a common feature in Korean
children), and she wrote me a love note a few weeks
ago that said, approximately,
"Dear teacher (rob teacher)
I like teacher. Teacher draw good. I like draw.
Teacher good teacher. Teacher is funny. I am happy.
Teacher is good teacher. Serina like teacher!!!!!!!
heart heart
heart
heart"
That's about her command of English. Her mother has
written me two notes thanking me for teaching her
daughter as well, and the notes said that Serina says
English is her favourite subject, that she likes her
teacher, she studies hard, and her mom (Lee Il Su) is
"glad Serina interested English." Then, last
Thursday, she confirmed my suspicions that she fancied
me when first, she asked a girl to trade seats with
her so she could sit beside me, and then, after class,
she walked me to the stairwell to the staff room and
tried her VERY best to have a casual conversation. It
went about like this.
Serina: "Hi teacher."
Rob Teacher (which is what they call me): "Hi Serina.
How are you?"
S: "I am fine thank you, how are you?" (all the kids
say "fine, thank you, how are you" as if they learned
it phonetically)
RT: "I'm happy."
S: "Good." (pause) "Spring is soon."
RT: "Yes. Today is warm."
S: "Yes. I like spring. Do you like spring?"
RT: "I like summer more."
S: "I don't like summer. I like spring."
RT: "In Canada, summer is not as rainy as in Korea."
(Korea has a monsoon season)
S: " " (puzzled face)
RT: "Korea summer, many many rain;" (spread out arms
to show 'many many') "in Canada summer, little rain."
(hold hands closer together to show 'less than Korea')
Then I was at the stairwell door. Her face had
changed so I suspected she understood, and I said
goodbye. Really sweet kid. I wish I could take her
home with me or something.
I have another kid who's a HUGE pest in class, but
between class he'll come up to me and hug me and sit
in my lap -- he likes me, but he just doesn't know how
to sit still. Worst of all (I guess), he's really
funny -- he says things (in Korean -- he never stops
talking Korean) that gets all the other kids laughing
and distracted, so it's impossible to get anything
done in class. I get really upset at him in class,
but after class he's really sweet. Today I made him
write lines, and on Thursday I'll do it again if I
have to, until he gets it that I'm the boss, and not
him. I can't even send him out in the hall, because
he'll try to come back in, and when I'm struggling to
keep a five year old from getting his foot in the
door, it's really hard to keep the rest of the class
from laughing at me. And of course, once teacher has
lost his dignity, the lesson plan is shot. And then
he'll be almost quiet, not bothering anyone, maybe not
paying attention, but at least not distracting people,
and all at once he'll tip his chair too far and fall
over. And then I'm a goner too, and once teacher
laughs, the lesson plan is shot. At this rate, it's
gonna take me six months to get through the alphabet.
But yeah. I like my classes. I like my kids. I
badly need to learn more Korean -- I met two girls a
few weeks ago who are ready to schedule a language
exchange with me on week-ends, but I have to find a
time that works for all of us. I think I'm going to
have to sign up for some classes somewhere,
ultimately, and just bite the bullet and fork over the
won. Oh well. It'll be worth it if I can play with
Korean children by the time I go home. (I had a yes
yes yes no no no fight with a kid in the halls today
between classes. It reminded me of yes/no fights with
my nephew and how much fun they are).
So yes, I still miss all of you heaps. I am so
thankful to those of you who've kept in touch. It's
really encouraging. If I haven't replied to your
letter and you want me to, send me a reminder to get
on it. I am constantly talking about my brother and
my family and my friends to my roommate Dave (I asked
him how he felt about that once and he said "man, just
shoot me in the head now." -- but he means that
jokingly). I really like my roommate. He's hooked me
up with some really cool people so far.
Unfortunately, another of the things happenning is
that I need to find a new church. There was a church
near here that has English language services, but the
congregation was simply too Korean -- I found that I
couldn't fit into the community. The language barrier
was simply too intimidating, both for me and for them.
If I were two-thirds, half, or even one-third fluent
in Korean, it'd be possible, but as it is, I just
can't take part. So I'm going to look into some
English churches for foreigners that can be found in
Itaewon, the foreigner section of Seoul (it's right
near the US Army base.)
So pray that I find a community where I can feel like
I belong, and pray that the community I find also has
some inroads or connections to Korean lessons -- if I
can take Korean lessons through a church, I can't
think of a more ideal situation to be in for filling
both my goal to find a community AND my goal to learn
Korean.
Thank you for your support, through e-mails and
prayers. I love you all.
Rob Ouwehand
Sunday, January 22, 2006
January 22nd 2006: A Sticky Patch and a funny story at the end.
Well, it's been a sticky patch, and as I once said before, I don't like writing update e-mails when I'm feeling sticky. (Just wait till the humid heat of summer. . . haw haw haw.) But the fact is, I owe all you folks an e-mail -- have for a while, and by gum, I finally have a fantastic story I can use to finish it off with a laugh. (I didn’t even realize that's what had been holding me back until Sarah delivered her coup de grace of humour that day, and one of the first thoughts was "now I can finally write home."
May as well get this one out of the way: a few of you have already heard in personal e-mails that Exgirlfriendoseyo and I broke up. After a seven-month wait in Canada, and a really hard test, and a variety of tests both personal and paper, we simply seemed to be heading in different directions, and needing different things than we offered each other. It was done in such a way, and at such a time that we still respect each other, I don't have any regrets, and I wish her the best. We tried to make things work, but there was just too much else going on.
It was my first Christmas away from home this year. And my first Christmas without. . . you know, all that Mom dying of cancer stuff. I ran an entire calling card down on Christmas morning, and had some difficult and wonderful phone calls from a group of people who ranged from kind wisdom and caring to full, vulnerable empathy to some wonderful and necessary "talk-about-something-else-ification". Exgirlfriendoseyo and Matt both went down to Ulsan (where Exoseyo’s parents' extended family lives) for new year's, and I in turn got properly sick, and couldn't do much for new year's eve. On New Year's day I was still sick, and the next day, Exoseyo and I broke up, so I just put my head down and worked as much as I could handle for the rest of that week.
Being optimistic isn't always the same as being cheerful, and being hopeful doesn't always mean having a spring in your step. That's one thing grief has taught me. Right now, sometimes I walk as if I'm wearing a lead raincoat, and sometimes the best I can manage is friendly small-talk with my roommate before I disappear into my room to read or listen to music or head out and walk aimlessly through the winter air. However, (unlike the last time I was down and out like this, in 2001), I have absolute faith that, in time, things will start climbing, and in time, I will feel whole again. In time, I will be joyful and engaged again. (Engaged meaning participating fully in life, not engaged meaning rings on fingers.)
As for now, it's OK not to be swimming in a bucket of peach fuzzies. It's OK to feel however I feel, as long as I know that, here on earth, just as no joyous moment lasts forever, neither does any bad time. And until the wheel takes another turn, I can find fantastic, beautiful, funny things that can make me smile and enjoy my life, and think about those things, and I can talk to God if I need to, and God can handle any emotion I have (having invented them and all.) And if I feel joy 20% of the time these days instead of my usual 60%, well, that will eventually correct itself, as long as I don't hold onto my grief, but let it pass through me, effect me, and then end once it is spent.
I've looked up some of my old friends in Korea, from my first and second years here, and I've spent some good time with Matt, and been less distracted from my supervisor work. Those are all good things. Exgirlfriendoseyo didn't pass the test, so that must be disappointing for her (she found out on the 10th, a week after we broke up). I hope she has some good friends nearby right now. I've also made a new friend or two, and am really enjoying the making of new friends. All these things add happiness to my life.
Here are some of my best friends these days:
Deb. In the last year, I'm so glad, Deb, to see us grow closer. Thanks for your phone calls. Every time we've talked on the phone has been absolutely, perfectly, just what I needed at the time. YAY FAMILY!!!
Matt. As always, the staunch wingman. Gives good advice, listens well, and has a great knack for knowing when to engage a state of mind head-on, and when to help me get my mind off it. His good buddy Kris is in Korea now too, and he has proven his measure, and made me glad to have him around.
Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road -- this song sounds like somebody jumping into a big, '70s American gas-guzzler and chasing their dreams down the center line of a winding highway. Better still, it makes ME want to jump in a car (or on a subway, or into a pair of good walking shoes), and grab a map, or a shovel, or a ladder, and start looking for something beautiful and joyful.
Beethoven's 9th symphony, fourth movement. The third movement is full of storm and tempest, and the fifth is unbridled joy. But the fourth movement bridges them, it's still of the tempest, but there, in the distance, approaching like one of those fantastic prairie thunderstorms, comes joy as thrilling and powerful as a flash-flood. When I listen to it, I hear my life -- things are still stormy over here, but every once in a while, like a crack of sunlight through cloud, like a flash of heat-lightning on the horizon, or a rumble of thunder, joy is waiting, somewhere just past the horizon, just beyond my fingertips, at the edge of my peripheral vision, something I can smell but which moves back out of sight whenever I turn my head to look at it. Like a shy animal, I have to sit in stillness and patience, and wait for it to approach me again. I know I will feel well again. More than well. If you can get your hands on the fourth movement (or just all of the 9th), it's best to listen to it really, really loud. Then the fifth movement is awesome -- the musical equivalent of a child running down a really really long hill.
Another best friend: the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Especially his Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus -- Rilke understands how grief and sadness deepen a character and expand one's heart, enabling it to grasp for greater things than before. If you don't dig poetry, that's fine. Just skip to the place where it says "SO ENOUGH POETRY ALREADY" in all-caps (I made it all caps so it'll be easy for you to find it.)
"How we squander our hours of pain
How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration
to see if they have an end. Though they are really
our winter-enduring foliage, our dark evergreen,
one season in our inner year -- not only a season
in time--, but are place and settelment, foundation
and soil and home." -- Elegy 10
***Sonnet to Orpheus - Part II, sonnet 13
"Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were
behind you, like the winter that has just gone by.
For among these winters there is one so endlessly winger
that only by wintering through it will your heart survive.
Be forever dead in Eurydice -- more gladly arise
into the seamless life proclaimed in your song.
Here, in the realm of decline, among momentary days,
be the crystal cup that shattered even as it rang.
Be -- and yet know the great void where all things begin,
the infinite source of your own most intense vibration,
so that, this once, you may give it your perfect assent.
To all that is used-up, and to all the muffled and dumb
creatures in the world's full reserve, the unsayable sums,
joyfully add yourSELF, and cancel the count.
***(Dove that ventured outside) - thanks mel.
Dove that ventured outside, flying far from the dovecote
housed and protected again, one with the day, the night,
knows what serenity is, for she has felt her wings
pass through all distance and fear in the course of her wanderings.
The doves that remained at home, never exposed to loss,
innocent and secure, cannot know tenderness;
only the won-back heart can ever be satisfied: free,
through all it has given up, to rejoice in its mastery.
Being arches itself over the vast abyss.
Ah the ball that we dared, that we hurled into infinite space,
doesn't it fill our hands differently with its return:
heavier by the weight of where it has been.
Also John Keats:
(from Ode On Melancholy)
Ah, in the very temple of delight,
veiled melancholy has her sov'ran shrine,
though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
can burst joy's grape against his palate fine.
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might
and be among her cloudy trophies hung.
and if you skip the others, I still recommend you read this one:
"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And form the selfsame well from which your laughter
arises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the
more joy you can contain...
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and
you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that
which has been your delight...
Verily you are suspended like scales between your
sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at stand-still and
balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold
and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow
rise or fall."
-The Prophet, Kahlil
Gibran(1923)
Somebody told me that sorrow digs the mine-shafts in your heart, and the deeper and wider those holes are, the more joy can run through them later, when the
wheel turns.
SO ENOUGH POETRY ALREADY
Here it is, folks. This was one of the biggest laughs I've ever had from a student, and it came from one of the youngest students I've taught, but there you go. One of my classes really loves my storytelling. I have a tradition of telling stories on Wednesdays (show and tell days) -- I come into class looking dejected and say "sorry kids. I don't have anything for show and tell today." Then I tell a show and tell story about what I found for show and tell that week, and what ridiculous series of events led to me being unable to bring that show and tell to class that day. Once I invited a polar bear from the zoo to come visit, but he wrote down the date wrong, and once I offended a magical cloud, so he zapped my show and tell with his lightning, and so forth.
Well, on Friday, we had a birthday party for all the students in preschool with January birthdays. Three students in my homeroom class (Tiger Class) had birthdays, so I had three crayon boxes wrapped as gifts, for those three boys. When I walked into Lion class, my student Sarah (a wildly hilarious little girl), asked me if she could have a present. I said, "No. I can't. They're for Tiger Class."
"Please teacher?"
"No. They're not for you."
"Can I open one and see?"
"No. It's not your present."
"Why you don't have a present for me?"
Then Sally said, "Show and tell story."
"Oh," I said, "do you want a show and tell story about why I don't have presents for you?"
"Yes," all the students agreed. So, off the top of my head, I began.
"Well, I was going to get presents for all the kids in Lion class, so I went to a special toystore, and they showed me a new toy that's a small robot, and it talks and sings and it has a TV and 100 video games, and a phone and a helicopter! So I bought six of them -- one for me, and one for each person in Lion class.
"Then, I was so excited that I found a great present for my Lion Class students, that I put on my helicopter hat (a regular appearance in my Show and Tell stories), and flew into the sky. While I was there, I saw Quentin the Clumsy Dragon (another recurring character). He said, 'Why are you happy, Rob?'
"I said, 'I'm happy because I found some great presents for Lion Class!'
"He said, 'Wow! That's GREAT! When I'm happy, I like to chase birds! Do you want to chase birds with me?'
"'Of course I do,' I said.
"So Quentin the Dragon and I flew high into the sky, and we flew down really fast, and we scared some birds, and we flew higher, and we did it again (this is done with hand motions and funny faces), and we flew HIGHER, and we did it AGAIN! And then, Quentin flew SO high, he hit the moon!
"But when Quentin hit the moon, he hit a Moon Monster. The Moon Monster was sleeping, and Moon Monsters get REALLY angry when somebody wakes them up! So the moon monster grabbed Quentin in one hand and said, 'YOU WOKE ME UP! I'M REALLY ANGRY!!!', and he grabbed me in his other hand, and shouted, 'YOUR FRIEND WOKE ME UP! THAT MAKES ME REALLY ANGRY!!!'
"So Quentin said, 'I'm so so so sorry," and I said, 'I'm so so so so sorry!'
"But the moon monster was so angry he didn't say 'that's OK.' He said, "I'm STILL angry,' and he started to shake us in his hands. (This, too, was done with actions and funny faces).
"Finally, Quentin was very dizzy, and he said, 'rorororororob - pupupupupuplease give him thethethethethe prepreprepresent!'
"'Give him the present? But these are for Lion Class!' I said. Then the monster shook us both again, very very hard, so I said, 'Here, Monster. I'll give you a present so you aren't angry anymore.' I gave him one of the special robot toys. He opened the present, and he LOVED it. I thought, 'It's OK, because I still have five presents for the five people in Lion Class. Now I don't have one for myself, but that's OK.' The Moon Monster started playing with his new toy, and he was so happy that he jumped up and down, and when he jumped up and down, he woke up TWO MORE Moon Monsters.
"Very quickly, I gave two more presents to those two Moon Monsters, and they were happy too, so Quentin and I flew back down to Earth, and I went home. Now, I don't have enough presents for all the kids in Lion Class, so I'll give them to the birthday boys in Tiger Class instead. I'm very sorry, Lion Class, but I don't have enough Robot Toys to give them to you.
Well, Sarah wasn't satisfied with that. She said, "It's OK, Teacher, I'll share with Sally. Scott doesn't want one."
"Sorry, I have to give them to Willy and Zach and Steven now. I can't only give them to some people in Lion Class."
"Just me teacher. It's OK." (Please realize that she's saying all this in a playful, bantering voice that's charming and fun -- she's not whining or needling at all, so I'm engaging rather than cutting her off with my teacher-authority.) Before I could answer her, the door knocked, and I was called out of the classroom to deal with something. When I returned to class, Sarah had her head on the desk, so I tapped her on the back and said, "Wake up, Sarah! It's time to get out your books."
As soon as I tapped her on the back, she stood up and shook her fists and growled "WHO WAKE ME UP! I'M ANGRY!" -- demonstrating perfect comprehension of the entire story (very impressive for her English level), and the cleverest attempt yet to get her hands on one of those wrapped gifts. She absolutely slayed me. It's not often a kid will catch me right off guard with a funny angle or comment, but she just about knocked me off my chair with laughter. I asked her if she could shake me as much as the moon monster shook me, and before I sent the students off to get their activity books, I had all five Lion Class students pulling on my arms, trying to shake me enough to convince me that I could only placate them with boxes of crayons.
It was an absolutely brilliant day. I'll hold on to those kinds of laughs and smiles, and after a while, I'll notice them more, and remember them more easily, and in time, the whole world will be as shiny as it used to be for me.
Patience. Hope. Joy.
love:
rob
May as well get this one out of the way: a few of you have already heard in personal e-mails that Exgirlfriendoseyo and I broke up. After a seven-month wait in Canada, and a really hard test, and a variety of tests both personal and paper, we simply seemed to be heading in different directions, and needing different things than we offered each other. It was done in such a way, and at such a time that we still respect each other, I don't have any regrets, and I wish her the best. We tried to make things work, but there was just too much else going on.
It was my first Christmas away from home this year. And my first Christmas without. . . you know, all that Mom dying of cancer stuff. I ran an entire calling card down on Christmas morning, and had some difficult and wonderful phone calls from a group of people who ranged from kind wisdom and caring to full, vulnerable empathy to some wonderful and necessary "talk-about-something-else-ification". Exgirlfriendoseyo and Matt both went down to Ulsan (where Exoseyo’s parents' extended family lives) for new year's, and I in turn got properly sick, and couldn't do much for new year's eve. On New Year's day I was still sick, and the next day, Exoseyo and I broke up, so I just put my head down and worked as much as I could handle for the rest of that week.
Being optimistic isn't always the same as being cheerful, and being hopeful doesn't always mean having a spring in your step. That's one thing grief has taught me. Right now, sometimes I walk as if I'm wearing a lead raincoat, and sometimes the best I can manage is friendly small-talk with my roommate before I disappear into my room to read or listen to music or head out and walk aimlessly through the winter air. However, (unlike the last time I was down and out like this, in 2001), I have absolute faith that, in time, things will start climbing, and in time, I will feel whole again. In time, I will be joyful and engaged again. (Engaged meaning participating fully in life, not engaged meaning rings on fingers.)
As for now, it's OK not to be swimming in a bucket of peach fuzzies. It's OK to feel however I feel, as long as I know that, here on earth, just as no joyous moment lasts forever, neither does any bad time. And until the wheel takes another turn, I can find fantastic, beautiful, funny things that can make me smile and enjoy my life, and think about those things, and I can talk to God if I need to, and God can handle any emotion I have (having invented them and all.) And if I feel joy 20% of the time these days instead of my usual 60%, well, that will eventually correct itself, as long as I don't hold onto my grief, but let it pass through me, effect me, and then end once it is spent.
I've looked up some of my old friends in Korea, from my first and second years here, and I've spent some good time with Matt, and been less distracted from my supervisor work. Those are all good things. Exgirlfriendoseyo didn't pass the test, so that must be disappointing for her (she found out on the 10th, a week after we broke up). I hope she has some good friends nearby right now. I've also made a new friend or two, and am really enjoying the making of new friends. All these things add happiness to my life.
Here are some of my best friends these days:
Deb. In the last year, I'm so glad, Deb, to see us grow closer. Thanks for your phone calls. Every time we've talked on the phone has been absolutely, perfectly, just what I needed at the time. YAY FAMILY!!!
Matt. As always, the staunch wingman. Gives good advice, listens well, and has a great knack for knowing when to engage a state of mind head-on, and when to help me get my mind off it. His good buddy Kris is in Korea now too, and he has proven his measure, and made me glad to have him around.
Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road -- this song sounds like somebody jumping into a big, '70s American gas-guzzler and chasing their dreams down the center line of a winding highway. Better still, it makes ME want to jump in a car (or on a subway, or into a pair of good walking shoes), and grab a map, or a shovel, or a ladder, and start looking for something beautiful and joyful.
Beethoven's 9th symphony, fourth movement. The third movement is full of storm and tempest, and the fifth is unbridled joy. But the fourth movement bridges them, it's still of the tempest, but there, in the distance, approaching like one of those fantastic prairie thunderstorms, comes joy as thrilling and powerful as a flash-flood. When I listen to it, I hear my life -- things are still stormy over here, but every once in a while, like a crack of sunlight through cloud, like a flash of heat-lightning on the horizon, or a rumble of thunder, joy is waiting, somewhere just past the horizon, just beyond my fingertips, at the edge of my peripheral vision, something I can smell but which moves back out of sight whenever I turn my head to look at it. Like a shy animal, I have to sit in stillness and patience, and wait for it to approach me again. I know I will feel well again. More than well. If you can get your hands on the fourth movement (or just all of the 9th), it's best to listen to it really, really loud. Then the fifth movement is awesome -- the musical equivalent of a child running down a really really long hill.
Another best friend: the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Especially his Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus -- Rilke understands how grief and sadness deepen a character and expand one's heart, enabling it to grasp for greater things than before. If you don't dig poetry, that's fine. Just skip to the place where it says "SO ENOUGH POETRY ALREADY" in all-caps (I made it all caps so it'll be easy for you to find it.)
"How we squander our hours of pain
How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration
to see if they have an end. Though they are really
our winter-enduring foliage, our dark evergreen,
one season in our inner year -- not only a season
in time--, but are place and settelment, foundation
and soil and home." -- Elegy 10
***Sonnet to Orpheus - Part II, sonnet 13
"Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were
behind you, like the winter that has just gone by.
For among these winters there is one so endlessly winger
that only by wintering through it will your heart survive.
Be forever dead in Eurydice -- more gladly arise
into the seamless life proclaimed in your song.
Here, in the realm of decline, among momentary days,
be the crystal cup that shattered even as it rang.
Be -- and yet know the great void where all things begin,
the infinite source of your own most intense vibration,
so that, this once, you may give it your perfect assent.
To all that is used-up, and to all the muffled and dumb
creatures in the world's full reserve, the unsayable sums,
joyfully add yourSELF, and cancel the count.
***(Dove that ventured outside) - thanks mel.
Dove that ventured outside, flying far from the dovecote
housed and protected again, one with the day, the night,
knows what serenity is, for she has felt her wings
pass through all distance and fear in the course of her wanderings.
The doves that remained at home, never exposed to loss,
innocent and secure, cannot know tenderness;
only the won-back heart can ever be satisfied: free,
through all it has given up, to rejoice in its mastery.
Being arches itself over the vast abyss.
Ah the ball that we dared, that we hurled into infinite space,
doesn't it fill our hands differently with its return:
heavier by the weight of where it has been.
Also John Keats:
(from Ode On Melancholy)
Ah, in the very temple of delight,
veiled melancholy has her sov'ran shrine,
though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
can burst joy's grape against his palate fine.
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might
and be among her cloudy trophies hung.
and if you skip the others, I still recommend you read this one:
"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And form the selfsame well from which your laughter
arises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the
more joy you can contain...
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and
you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that
which has been your delight...
Verily you are suspended like scales between your
sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at stand-still and
balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold
and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow
rise or fall."
-The Prophet, Kahlil
Gibran(1923)
Somebody told me that sorrow digs the mine-shafts in your heart, and the deeper and wider those holes are, the more joy can run through them later, when the
wheel turns.
SO ENOUGH POETRY ALREADY
Here it is, folks. This was one of the biggest laughs I've ever had from a student, and it came from one of the youngest students I've taught, but there you go. One of my classes really loves my storytelling. I have a tradition of telling stories on Wednesdays (show and tell days) -- I come into class looking dejected and say "sorry kids. I don't have anything for show and tell today." Then I tell a show and tell story about what I found for show and tell that week, and what ridiculous series of events led to me being unable to bring that show and tell to class that day. Once I invited a polar bear from the zoo to come visit, but he wrote down the date wrong, and once I offended a magical cloud, so he zapped my show and tell with his lightning, and so forth.
Well, on Friday, we had a birthday party for all the students in preschool with January birthdays. Three students in my homeroom class (Tiger Class) had birthdays, so I had three crayon boxes wrapped as gifts, for those three boys. When I walked into Lion class, my student Sarah (a wildly hilarious little girl), asked me if she could have a present. I said, "No. I can't. They're for Tiger Class."
"Please teacher?"
"No. They're not for you."
"Can I open one and see?"
"No. It's not your present."
"Why you don't have a present for me?"
Then Sally said, "Show and tell story."
"Oh," I said, "do you want a show and tell story about why I don't have presents for you?"
"Yes," all the students agreed. So, off the top of my head, I began.
"Well, I was going to get presents for all the kids in Lion class, so I went to a special toystore, and they showed me a new toy that's a small robot, and it talks and sings and it has a TV and 100 video games, and a phone and a helicopter! So I bought six of them -- one for me, and one for each person in Lion class.
"Then, I was so excited that I found a great present for my Lion Class students, that I put on my helicopter hat (a regular appearance in my Show and Tell stories), and flew into the sky. While I was there, I saw Quentin the Clumsy Dragon (another recurring character). He said, 'Why are you happy, Rob?'
"I said, 'I'm happy because I found some great presents for Lion Class!'
"He said, 'Wow! That's GREAT! When I'm happy, I like to chase birds! Do you want to chase birds with me?'
"'Of course I do,' I said.
"So Quentin the Dragon and I flew high into the sky, and we flew down really fast, and we scared some birds, and we flew higher, and we did it again (this is done with hand motions and funny faces), and we flew HIGHER, and we did it AGAIN! And then, Quentin flew SO high, he hit the moon!
"But when Quentin hit the moon, he hit a Moon Monster. The Moon Monster was sleeping, and Moon Monsters get REALLY angry when somebody wakes them up! So the moon monster grabbed Quentin in one hand and said, 'YOU WOKE ME UP! I'M REALLY ANGRY!!!', and he grabbed me in his other hand, and shouted, 'YOUR FRIEND WOKE ME UP! THAT MAKES ME REALLY ANGRY!!!'
"So Quentin said, 'I'm so so so sorry," and I said, 'I'm so so so so sorry!'
"But the moon monster was so angry he didn't say 'that's OK.' He said, "I'm STILL angry,' and he started to shake us in his hands. (This, too, was done with actions and funny faces).
"Finally, Quentin was very dizzy, and he said, 'rorororororob - pupupupupuplease give him thethethethethe prepreprepresent!'
"'Give him the present? But these are for Lion Class!' I said. Then the monster shook us both again, very very hard, so I said, 'Here, Monster. I'll give you a present so you aren't angry anymore.' I gave him one of the special robot toys. He opened the present, and he LOVED it. I thought, 'It's OK, because I still have five presents for the five people in Lion Class. Now I don't have one for myself, but that's OK.' The Moon Monster started playing with his new toy, and he was so happy that he jumped up and down, and when he jumped up and down, he woke up TWO MORE Moon Monsters.
"Very quickly, I gave two more presents to those two Moon Monsters, and they were happy too, so Quentin and I flew back down to Earth, and I went home. Now, I don't have enough presents for all the kids in Lion Class, so I'll give them to the birthday boys in Tiger Class instead. I'm very sorry, Lion Class, but I don't have enough Robot Toys to give them to you.
Well, Sarah wasn't satisfied with that. She said, "It's OK, Teacher, I'll share with Sally. Scott doesn't want one."
"Sorry, I have to give them to Willy and Zach and Steven now. I can't only give them to some people in Lion Class."
"Just me teacher. It's OK." (Please realize that she's saying all this in a playful, bantering voice that's charming and fun -- she's not whining or needling at all, so I'm engaging rather than cutting her off with my teacher-authority.) Before I could answer her, the door knocked, and I was called out of the classroom to deal with something. When I returned to class, Sarah had her head on the desk, so I tapped her on the back and said, "Wake up, Sarah! It's time to get out your books."
As soon as I tapped her on the back, she stood up and shook her fists and growled "WHO WAKE ME UP! I'M ANGRY!" -- demonstrating perfect comprehension of the entire story (very impressive for her English level), and the cleverest attempt yet to get her hands on one of those wrapped gifts. She absolutely slayed me. It's not often a kid will catch me right off guard with a funny angle or comment, but she just about knocked me off my chair with laughter. I asked her if she could shake me as much as the moon monster shook me, and before I sent the students off to get their activity books, I had all five Lion Class students pulling on my arms, trying to shake me enough to convince me that I could only placate them with boxes of crayons.
It was an absolutely brilliant day. I'll hold on to those kinds of laughs and smiles, and after a while, I'll notice them more, and remember them more easily, and in time, the whole world will be as shiny as it used to be for me.
Patience. Hope. Joy.
love:
rob
Sunday, November 27, 2005
November 2005: back in Seoul, Korea
So back in March, when I made plans to live in BC with
my folks for as long as it too Mom to live out her
cancer, I had no idea it would take all of seven
months for her to do so, no idea that it wouldn't be
until late October that I'd finally finished all my
visiting and taken the trip to Seoul.
So I'm back now. Back in the land of palaces and
gingko trees, easy public transit and lots of rice and
pickled vegetable side dishes. In fact, I've been her
for a month (tomorrow).
Out here in Korea, it's been an interesting go. I
spent about a week recovering from jet-lag and getting
re-acquainted with Korea in general -- revisiting my
favourite areas, taking long walks, writing in my
diary -- and found myself incredibly bored, so I
headed out to find a job, quite a bit sooner than I'd
expected to. The plan, originally, was to take things
really slow, to see Matt and my friends, to travel,
maybe see the countryside, and make sure I'd given
myself enough time to grieve my Mom here in Korea
before I jumped into working and going back to the
grind of things. Being in Korea is interesting,
insofar as I'm finally on my own -- there are no roles
here for me to play, except for Rob. I'm not "Rudy's
Boy", or "Dan's Brother" or anything but Rob, and
finally (in that way) being on my own, gives me the
chance to start sorting out my own closet, after
spending most of September with the family, in BC, and
then in Ontario with Dad.
Being in Canada was good. Satisfying. Appropriate.
I'm glad to have had the chance to take that time and
be there with my mom and dad. I'm lucky that I was in
a situation where that was possible. Now, it really
feels good to have my life back in motion again.
Unfortunately, being back in Korea was boring, with
Exgirfriendoseyo studying as much as she could, and with Matt
working, and with only so many books, and so many
hours I could walk around without getting sore feet
and smog headaches, so I looked for a job. I went to
the director of my first school, to ask him for a
reference letter, and instead he offered me a job.
His preschool supervisor was leaving at the end of the
month, so he'd bring me in as a supervisor. I said,
essentially, "why not?" -- I love the area, it has
great access to Seoul and two nearby parks, and good
restaurants, there are good restaurants nearby, and
the foreign teachers working there right now are
really good people -- I like them a lot, and they have
some good, close friendships. It's nice to be
connected to that network, even after only one month.
Plus, my boss absolutely adores me, and I should be
able to work that to my advantage, and, if nothing
else, he's a known quantity, so I know what I'm
getting from him and from this school.
The drawbacks are these:
1. a roommate -- and female at that. I gave Exgirfriendoseyo
the chance to veto the job, and she said she was OK
with it, so we'll see how it works out. (Though it's
nice having a friend nearby -- sometimes my apartment
last year was WAAAY too quiet.)
2. the director remains the same guy he was before --
he means well (usually), but he's also a bit of a
wildcard, and often asks you to do things without
enough advance notice.
3. the first month in a supervisor position is a lot
of work. if the workload decreases after I've got the
hang of things, then I'm set, and I'll have a really
great schedule down the line, but for now, I've been
working long hours (on my own perogative, however,
which is a nice change from being iron-clad-required
to do so. I figure that, like with ice skating, if I
do a strong push at first, it'll be easier to coast
later.) But. . . 3.1. I was very clear with Mr. Kim
that if the supervisor thing didn't work out for me,
I'd be stepping down -- that was one of the terms of
me coming on at all. So if the workload's ridiculous,
he knows that I'll approach him, and we'll work
something out involving either a pay increase or a
responsibility decrease.
Fair enough. We'll see how it works out. I'm trying
to be supportive for Exgirfriendoseyo -- her huge
middle-school-teacher qualification test is coming up
in two weeks, and she's been getting more and more
stressed about it, and I've been seeing her less and
less. That's a bit frustrating, but, as Matt keeps
saying, "Patience patience patience" -- that patience
will pay off in time. Meanwhile, it's been good to
pour myself into work for a while. It gives me
something to think about other than Mom, and it's been
a while since I've had enough going on in my life to
be able to say "I'll just set that aside and think
about it when I have time". That's good, after a
certain amount of time. As much as I love Mom and Dad
and the siblings, I needed (in a bad way) to get back
to my own life.
So that's where I am now. The church here remains, as
always, awesome. They actually postponed their church
picnic for a few weeks so that they'd have it after
I'd returned. That kind of love is hard to come by.
Matt, too, has been a stellar support: compassionate
and understanding, with a good sense of when to talk
about it, and when to help get your mind off it.
Exgirfriendoseyo and I are doing our best to be there for each
other, between her studies and my new job, both of our
schedules are heavily taxed right now, but hard times
prove the measure of a relationship, and this story
isn't over yet. I like my coworkers more and more.
One of them (his name is Caleb. . . Overstreet? . . .
is an MK whose father worked with my friend Cheryl
(Mellis) Zeke's father in Amsterdam. I said the name
"Cheryl Mellis" and he said "Oh. Colin's sister." It
was cool. I made spaghetti for those folks last
Wednesday, and it went over really well, despite the
difficulty of finding the right spices here. (If
you're into care packages, send sage, seasoning salt
(the regular orange kind) and italian seasoning. . .
and Colgate total, which I forgot to stockpile before
I came here). My students call me "rocks teacher"
sometimes, but they're already warming up to me.
They're younger than anyone I've taught before, and
that's challenging, but it's interesting. Plus, being
a supervisor is using a bunch of abilities and
faculties I possess, but haven't used in quite a long
time. It's interesting tapping some of those aspects
of personal interaction again. I even learned how to
make a spreadsheet!
My next update will contain less matter-of-fact and
more colour, I hope. But right now, I have to send
this one out and head down to Dr. Lee's house, for the
American thanksgiving celebration potluck he's holding
at his house.
Take care of yourselves.
love
Rob
my folks for as long as it too Mom to live out her
cancer, I had no idea it would take all of seven
months for her to do so, no idea that it wouldn't be
until late October that I'd finally finished all my
visiting and taken the trip to Seoul.
So I'm back now. Back in the land of palaces and
gingko trees, easy public transit and lots of rice and
pickled vegetable side dishes. In fact, I've been her
for a month (tomorrow).
Out here in Korea, it's been an interesting go. I
spent about a week recovering from jet-lag and getting
re-acquainted with Korea in general -- revisiting my
favourite areas, taking long walks, writing in my
diary -- and found myself incredibly bored, so I
headed out to find a job, quite a bit sooner than I'd
expected to. The plan, originally, was to take things
really slow, to see Matt and my friends, to travel,
maybe see the countryside, and make sure I'd given
myself enough time to grieve my Mom here in Korea
before I jumped into working and going back to the
grind of things. Being in Korea is interesting,
insofar as I'm finally on my own -- there are no roles
here for me to play, except for Rob. I'm not "Rudy's
Boy", or "Dan's Brother" or anything but Rob, and
finally (in that way) being on my own, gives me the
chance to start sorting out my own closet, after
spending most of September with the family, in BC, and
then in Ontario with Dad.
Being in Canada was good. Satisfying. Appropriate.
I'm glad to have had the chance to take that time and
be there with my mom and dad. I'm lucky that I was in
a situation where that was possible. Now, it really
feels good to have my life back in motion again.
Unfortunately, being back in Korea was boring, with
Exgirfriendoseyo studying as much as she could, and with Matt
working, and with only so many books, and so many
hours I could walk around without getting sore feet
and smog headaches, so I looked for a job. I went to
the director of my first school, to ask him for a
reference letter, and instead he offered me a job.
His preschool supervisor was leaving at the end of the
month, so he'd bring me in as a supervisor. I said,
essentially, "why not?" -- I love the area, it has
great access to Seoul and two nearby parks, and good
restaurants, there are good restaurants nearby, and
the foreign teachers working there right now are
really good people -- I like them a lot, and they have
some good, close friendships. It's nice to be
connected to that network, even after only one month.
Plus, my boss absolutely adores me, and I should be
able to work that to my advantage, and, if nothing
else, he's a known quantity, so I know what I'm
getting from him and from this school.
The drawbacks are these:
1. a roommate -- and female at that. I gave Exgirfriendoseyo
the chance to veto the job, and she said she was OK
with it, so we'll see how it works out. (Though it's
nice having a friend nearby -- sometimes my apartment
last year was WAAAY too quiet.)
2. the director remains the same guy he was before --
he means well (usually), but he's also a bit of a
wildcard, and often asks you to do things without
enough advance notice.
3. the first month in a supervisor position is a lot
of work. if the workload decreases after I've got the
hang of things, then I'm set, and I'll have a really
great schedule down the line, but for now, I've been
working long hours (on my own perogative, however,
which is a nice change from being iron-clad-required
to do so. I figure that, like with ice skating, if I
do a strong push at first, it'll be easier to coast
later.) But. . . 3.1. I was very clear with Mr. Kim
that if the supervisor thing didn't work out for me,
I'd be stepping down -- that was one of the terms of
me coming on at all. So if the workload's ridiculous,
he knows that I'll approach him, and we'll work
something out involving either a pay increase or a
responsibility decrease.
Fair enough. We'll see how it works out. I'm trying
to be supportive for Exgirfriendoseyo -- her huge
middle-school-teacher qualification test is coming up
in two weeks, and she's been getting more and more
stressed about it, and I've been seeing her less and
less. That's a bit frustrating, but, as Matt keeps
saying, "Patience patience patience" -- that patience
will pay off in time. Meanwhile, it's been good to
pour myself into work for a while. It gives me
something to think about other than Mom, and it's been
a while since I've had enough going on in my life to
be able to say "I'll just set that aside and think
about it when I have time". That's good, after a
certain amount of time. As much as I love Mom and Dad
and the siblings, I needed (in a bad way) to get back
to my own life.
So that's where I am now. The church here remains, as
always, awesome. They actually postponed their church
picnic for a few weeks so that they'd have it after
I'd returned. That kind of love is hard to come by.
Matt, too, has been a stellar support: compassionate
and understanding, with a good sense of when to talk
about it, and when to help get your mind off it.
Exgirfriendoseyo and I are doing our best to be there for each
other, between her studies and my new job, both of our
schedules are heavily taxed right now, but hard times
prove the measure of a relationship, and this story
isn't over yet. I like my coworkers more and more.
One of them (his name is Caleb. . . Overstreet? . . .
is an MK whose father worked with my friend Cheryl
(Mellis) Zeke's father in Amsterdam. I said the name
"Cheryl Mellis" and he said "Oh. Colin's sister." It
was cool. I made spaghetti for those folks last
Wednesday, and it went over really well, despite the
difficulty of finding the right spices here. (If
you're into care packages, send sage, seasoning salt
(the regular orange kind) and italian seasoning. . .
and Colgate total, which I forgot to stockpile before
I came here). My students call me "rocks teacher"
sometimes, but they're already warming up to me.
They're younger than anyone I've taught before, and
that's challenging, but it's interesting. Plus, being
a supervisor is using a bunch of abilities and
faculties I possess, but haven't used in quite a long
time. It's interesting tapping some of those aspects
of personal interaction again. I even learned how to
make a spreadsheet!
My next update will contain less matter-of-fact and
more colour, I hope. But right now, I have to send
this one out and head down to Dr. Lee's house, for the
American thanksgiving celebration potluck he's holding
at his house.
Take care of yourselves.
love
Rob
Monday, October 17, 2005
October 17th 2005
After seven months and many adventures and
non-adventures here in Canada, I'm going back to
Korea.
I will arrive on Friday in the afternoon, and start
the business of getting my life there moving. It's
been an interesting seven months, and I've learned a
lot, but now it's time to begin a new stage.
At this point, so many things have happened in the
last seven months, that to write about them all right
now would result in a novella-sized e-mail, so I'll
save that for the novel, when it comes, and for now,
I'll point out the three most powerful moments of my
spring and summer.
The most powerful moment, the one that will stay with
me the longest and most vividly, was the moment when
Mom stopped breathing. The whole family was there --
the parents and four kids, as a group of six for the
last time. We were singing a song about heaven while
Mom's breathing got shorter and shallower, sometimes
stopping and starting again, with a horrific gurgle
getting louder and louder as she wheezed. Mom's eyes
opened wide and looked up at the ceiling (or heaven,
if you will), and while we sang a song of praise to
God: "Then sings my soul, my saviour God, to thee: how
great thou art!" Mom took her last breath. That song
will never be the same for me: we sang it again at
Mom's memorial in Ontario and I was right back at
Mom's deathbed, as vivid as if it had just happened.
It was, other than a cousin's car accident that mostly
felt surreal, and a ninety-year-old step-grandfather
two time zones away, the first time death came even
close to my family, and it couldn't have made its
entrance more forceful.
The second moment was my brother's wedding -- the high
point is a toss-up between two things: the first was
the moment when the door at the back of the chapel
opened and Dan's new bride stepped into view for the
first time, sending tears spurting to my, Dan's, and
my Dad's eyes (and probably a lot of other people, but
I didn't notice them). Seeing a growing love reach
the point of such a commitment was thrilling, and
balanced the ending of mom's life with the beginning
of my brother's marriage. The second high mark was at
the wedding reception when, as the best man, I had the
honour of making a toast to Dan and Caryn. The
opportunity to give my thoughts at that moment, on my
brother's special day, was a great honour, and I hope
I did them justice.
The third moment was delivering Mom's eulogy at her
funeral, and again at her memorial. Again, the chance
to add my words to commemorate such an important
moment in such a woman's life was a great honour, and
I did my best to offer up words of both love and
truth, with sincerity, and without sentimentality.
I will send another e-mail with the text of the toast
for my brother, and the eulogy for my mother. For the
rest of the story of my summer, I'll let you know
what's coming in a later e-mail.
On Thursday I will leave Canada, and arrive in Korea
on Friday. My amazing girlfriend Exgirfriendoseyo has supported
me and waited for me faithfully for seven whole
months, and I don't know if I could have survived this
year without her. My great friend Matt is waiting
there for me as well, and he, too, has been a solid
rock of loyalty and friendship during this time.
Thanks go to everyone who prayed for me and my family,
thanks to the extended family in Ontario -- seeing you
was also a huge blessing, and a great comfort. Thanks
especially to Cheryl and Zeke and Melissa, Brent and
Ayden, and to the folks at the solid grounds bible
study in Agassiz: your friendships added a bit of
normalcy and fun to a ridiculously intense summer.
Bless you. Now before this starts sounding like an
acceptance speech. . .
The next e-mail is the text of the eulogy and my
groom's toast from Dan's wedding; read it if you want,
trash it if you're not interested, but they were
important moments in my life.
Thanks to everyone on this list, and for the e-mails
and phone calls you've sent.
And I'll be back to bore you with details of my new
life in Korea soon enough.
Rob
non-adventures here in Canada, I'm going back to
Korea.
I will arrive on Friday in the afternoon, and start
the business of getting my life there moving. It's
been an interesting seven months, and I've learned a
lot, but now it's time to begin a new stage.
At this point, so many things have happened in the
last seven months, that to write about them all right
now would result in a novella-sized e-mail, so I'll
save that for the novel, when it comes, and for now,
I'll point out the three most powerful moments of my
spring and summer.
The most powerful moment, the one that will stay with
me the longest and most vividly, was the moment when
Mom stopped breathing. The whole family was there --
the parents and four kids, as a group of six for the
last time. We were singing a song about heaven while
Mom's breathing got shorter and shallower, sometimes
stopping and starting again, with a horrific gurgle
getting louder and louder as she wheezed. Mom's eyes
opened wide and looked up at the ceiling (or heaven,
if you will), and while we sang a song of praise to
God: "Then sings my soul, my saviour God, to thee: how
great thou art!" Mom took her last breath. That song
will never be the same for me: we sang it again at
Mom's memorial in Ontario and I was right back at
Mom's deathbed, as vivid as if it had just happened.
It was, other than a cousin's car accident that mostly
felt surreal, and a ninety-year-old step-grandfather
two time zones away, the first time death came even
close to my family, and it couldn't have made its
entrance more forceful.
The second moment was my brother's wedding -- the high
point is a toss-up between two things: the first was
the moment when the door at the back of the chapel
opened and Dan's new bride stepped into view for the
first time, sending tears spurting to my, Dan's, and
my Dad's eyes (and probably a lot of other people, but
I didn't notice them). Seeing a growing love reach
the point of such a commitment was thrilling, and
balanced the ending of mom's life with the beginning
of my brother's marriage. The second high mark was at
the wedding reception when, as the best man, I had the
honour of making a toast to Dan and Caryn. The
opportunity to give my thoughts at that moment, on my
brother's special day, was a great honour, and I hope
I did them justice.
The third moment was delivering Mom's eulogy at her
funeral, and again at her memorial. Again, the chance
to add my words to commemorate such an important
moment in such a woman's life was a great honour, and
I did my best to offer up words of both love and
truth, with sincerity, and without sentimentality.
I will send another e-mail with the text of the toast
for my brother, and the eulogy for my mother. For the
rest of the story of my summer, I'll let you know
what's coming in a later e-mail.
On Thursday I will leave Canada, and arrive in Korea
on Friday. My amazing girlfriend Exgirfriendoseyo has supported
me and waited for me faithfully for seven whole
months, and I don't know if I could have survived this
year without her. My great friend Matt is waiting
there for me as well, and he, too, has been a solid
rock of loyalty and friendship during this time.
Thanks go to everyone who prayed for me and my family,
thanks to the extended family in Ontario -- seeing you
was also a huge blessing, and a great comfort. Thanks
especially to Cheryl and Zeke and Melissa, Brent and
Ayden, and to the folks at the solid grounds bible
study in Agassiz: your friendships added a bit of
normalcy and fun to a ridiculously intense summer.
Bless you. Now before this starts sounding like an
acceptance speech. . .
The next e-mail is the text of the eulogy and my
groom's toast from Dan's wedding; read it if you want,
trash it if you're not interested, but they were
important moments in my life.
Thanks to everyone on this list, and for the e-mails
and phone calls you've sent.
And I'll be back to bore you with details of my new
life in Korea soon enough.
Rob
Sunday, September 11, 2005
My Mother's Funeral Eulogy
These are long, and I won't be upset if you don't care to read it, but they’re important in my story. If you want to discuss anything I said in here, feel free to leave a comment.
Eulogy For (J B) J Ouwehand
delivered September 11th, 2005
At 12:15 in the afternoon, on September 8th, 2005, J Ouwehand passed to glory. Her husband R and her four children were gathered around her bedside. As we sang the last verse of “How Great Thou Art,” about Christ coming to take his own, J’s eyes opened wide for the first time in three days. Her eyes looked heavenwards, as if she could see Jesus reaching out to take her home, and as her family sang, “Then sings my soul, my saviour, God, to thee, how great thou art!” she took her last breath.
Mom had a way of listening that made you forget she was there. She’d pay close attention, and care, without ever judging. Her ability to listen and keep a secret made her a magnet for people’s trust. With patience and unending love, I saw Mom open up even the most guarded and defensive people. She didn’t give advice, but she didn’t NEED to give advice, because she’d find a question that cut through so much of the extra, unimportant fuzz that the clearest solution, or the plainest truth, was suddenly obvious.
My brother Dan mentioned something, and I was surprised that I hadn’t already included it in my eulogy, but here it is, now. Mom had a smile that never quit – everybody in
It’s difficult for me to realize just how much Mom did for me when I was small. Only another mother knows how much work and sacrifice it takes to raise good kids. One of mom’s greatest joys was always in her family. In reading her last year’s diary, the phrases that keep coming up again and again are “I really love Rudy, or Rebecca, or Deb, or Rob, or Dan, or the in-laws, or the grand-kids. . .” and “Rudy is so good to me, Deb is so good to me,” and so forth. Anyone who talked to her knew how proud she was of her family, and how dearly she loved us. She was never happier than when all of us were together laughing.
Mom didn’t just love her family, though. She saw God’s image in everyone she met, and loved them accordingly. Every person was precious to Mom, because she couldn’t help but love and respect all God’s creations. Mom was an amazing encourager, and she knew when and how to help someone take heart. Her hospitality was just as open and generous as her love, and each of the children have stories about Mom opening up our house to a friend in need, sometimes with amazing results, for example, the thanksgiving when Deb, then in her first year at Trinity Western University, phoned home saying, “Mom, there are some guys in this dorm who don’t have anywhere to go for thanksgiving. Can they come to our house?” and Mom said, “Sure. How many?” We had an amazing weekend, and one of those boys was a certain Bradley Jarvis, Deb’s husband now for four years.
Relationships were always Mom’s top priority, and those who knew her could go for hours telling stories about the ways Mom encouraged and helped the people around her. I’ve never met someone who spoke ill of her. Even the people who knew her best could never come up with anything worse than affectionate criticism of small, silly things. “Well, she really doesn’t have a photographer’s eye at all.” “She’s hopeless with a remote control in her hands.” “She gets Star WARS confused with Star TREK.” Those things just weren’t important enough for Mom to bother – there were people to encourage, and somebody out there needed some kindness; why on earth would she waste time finding out the names of the songs on the radio? Mom’s gifts were in other areas.
Mom’s greatest gift, the thing that will stay with me forever is, without any doubt, her love. 1 John 4:7-8 says “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” Mom was like a huge human mirror, reflecting God’s love to everyone who came near her. I know for a fact that people saw God’s love in Mom: several friends have told me exactly that, including some who don’t personally know God themselves. Mom has always had an amazing capacity to give love, not just to family, but to everyone she met. Mom loved freely, and generously, without requiring you to meet a standard first, without threatening to withdraw if you didn’t measure up later, and without ever trying to get something back. Even on her death bed, Mom spoke words of care and encouragement to her visitors and family, and made sure everyone knew they were loved and appreciated.
It’s strange that a woman so good at giving love, worried for years whether people really appreciated her and liked her, but she did. Whether from rejections long in the past or imagined slights in the present, Mom somehow managed not to notice how well loved she was by the people around her. This worry was partially answered in Mom’s first ten years in Agassiz: she was never happier and more fulfilled than here in
Cancer is cruel, and it is only in a hurting, broken world that a woman as young as Mom should already be called home to heaven. On a day like this, the question why is impossible to answer, and honestly, even if we DID have a complete, perfect answer to the question “Why?”, it would only satisfy our minds, and it still would not quiet the ache in our hearts. Asking “Why?” can’t change anything; it only makes us focus on our own pain. Instead, I propose a different question, one that I think Mom would prefer us to ask: “how, even in this, was God’s name glorified?” This question will not end the ache in our hearts either, but at least it turns our eyes to God, instead of focussing on our own pain. Here is an incomplete list of the ways J’s life, and especially its end, brought glory to God.
An entire church in
Many prayers were answered: Mom had enough time and strength to say all the important goodbyes she wanted to say, and visit each of her children and her family in Ontario; Mom survived Dan’s wedding, allowing that day to be a joyful one; the coma at the end was fairly quick; she got to see each of her kids one last time before she lost consciousness; amazingly, she had barely any pain as she fought cancer in her abdomen – an area of the body that is usually very sensitive to pain.
I asked Mom if there was anything she wanted me to share in particular in this eulogy, and she asked me to mention Philippians 2:14-15: “Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe.”
Mom pointed out to me that the way to shine like a star, to become blameless and pure, is simply to “do everything without complaining or arguing” and Mom was a model of that. She might be the least self-pitying cancer patient ever. She never complained or questioned, but instead, she lived out the end of the life God gave her gently and humbly, and she truly did shine like a star in the universe. Mom’s peace and serenity, and especially her trust in God, set an example for everyone else involved in her sickness. If she herself could suffer through this time without self-pity or anger, then we could certainly do the same. Yet even as others saw Mom’s peace and serenity, Mom wanted to give the glory to God, and point to the source of her peace: tucked away in her journal was the simple sentence, “I hope the story of ‘me’ doesn’t grow out of proportion” – she saw the way people were impressed by her story, and her attitude, and worried that the glory and attention would point to her, instead of to God. Even in her own fight with cancer, Mom humbly wanted to be sure that all the attention went to God.
That is J Ouwehand’s legacy. It is a legacy of humility, love, and trust in God. Mom has left the earth, and all that remain are her footprints, but those are powerful footprints. Those footprints are deep on my soul, and every time I give someone the benefit of the doubt, every time I am gracious and generous, every time I carry my own burdens without complaining, I am living out Mom’s legacy on earth. Really, every time I choose to live more like Christ, I am honouring my mother, because she was an example of a humble life patterned after Christ. Though her treasure is in heaven for living like Christ on earth, our lives bear the earthly fruit of her life. When we face difficult times with courage and peace, when we keep faith in people and love the unlovable, when we look to serve without attracting attention to ourselves, we honour Mom’s memory. By these things we prove that, without a doubt, death has NO victory in the story of Mom’s cancer, for even in her death, the kingdom of heaven advanced on earth, through the lives she touched.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
To My Friends in Korea (August 2005)
Hello my friends in Korea.
I wrote one letter to my Korean friends, and promised
I will write more. Then I forgot to tell you more
about my summer. Some of you haven't heard from me
for a long time. I'm sorry.
This letter is in very simple English, because some
people on this list are learning English, and I don't
want my letter to be difficult for them.
My summer was interesting. I am surprised when I
think that I left Korea five months ago! Some good
things happened. I saw some of my very good friends,
and our friendship is strong. I travelled to my
brother's wedding in July, and I travelled to my good
friend's wedding in August.
My brother got married on July 2, and I was the Best
Man (I stood beside my brother when he got married.)
His wife is named Caryn, and she is a wonderful,
funny, interesting, sweet girl. I travelled to Dan's
town two weeks before the wedding to help him prepare
the last details. I met most of Dan's good friends,
and I really like Dan's friends and his church. There
are lots of good people in his life, so it was really
fun to see him with his friends.
My mom's stomach cancer slowly got worse and worse.
She couldn't eat much, so she got thinner and thinner.
She also got weaker. In July, she was too weak to go
to Dan's wedding. That was very sad. However, many
relatives (uncles, aunts, cousins) came to Dan's
wedding. It was AMAZING to see so much family there.
The wedding day was full of serious times, where
everybody thought about Dan and Caryn's love, and
about God's love for His people. The wedding day was
ALSO full of joy and laughing and funny times. It was
an incredible, amazing, wonderful wedding. I will put
some pictures from the wedding in this e-mail.
After the wedding, many uncles and aunts came to my
town, to visit my mother. She was very happy to see
so many people who loved her.
My time in BC has been good. I've learned a lot about
love, by watching how my father and mother love each
other, and watching how the church in Agassiz loves my
family. The church really really helped us a lot.
People came to visit, and brought food, and cleaned
our house, and did many many small, very useful
things. I'm amazed and thankful that God's people are
so good at helping each other. I think that the
friends and church people are like mirrors that show
God's love for me. God took care of me this summer by
sending loving people to me.
I also learned about love from my friends, because my
friends have been really good and helpful to me. My
friends in Canada, and also in Korea helped me stay
strong, so that I can be strong enough to help my Mom
and Dad. Thank you for your love, my friends!
Since Dan's wedding, mom slowly got weaker, and the
cancer got stronger. Now she stays in bed usually,
and last week she suddenly stopped eating very many
meals. Before, she ate three small meals every day,
and some snacks. Now she eats one meal (sometimes)
every day, and only has drinks, but no snacks. I
can't say if she will still live one or two or three
weeks, but she probably will not live much longer.
After mom dies, I might spend some time travelling in
Canada to see all my important friends, but then I
will come to Korea again. Thank you for being my
friends in Korea. I'm excited to see you all again.
I have missed Korea a lot (especially Exgirfriendoseyo, my
church, and my wingman, Matt, and Korean Jimjilbang,
and samgyetang).
These weeks are going to be my most difficult weeks,
so I appreciate your prayers and thoughts, and thank
you for all the prayers you prayed all summer for me.
They really did help: Mom has a lot of peace in her
mind, and she doesn't have much pain from the cancer,
and that is amazing: usually stomach cancer is VERY
painful.
Sorry I didn't write more e-mails, and sorry this
letter is a little bit long. Thank you for being my
friends in Korea.
Rob Ouwehand
I wrote one letter to my Korean friends, and promised
I will write more. Then I forgot to tell you more
about my summer. Some of you haven't heard from me
for a long time. I'm sorry.
This letter is in very simple English, because some
people on this list are learning English, and I don't
want my letter to be difficult for them.
My summer was interesting. I am surprised when I
think that I left Korea five months ago! Some good
things happened. I saw some of my very good friends,
and our friendship is strong. I travelled to my
brother's wedding in July, and I travelled to my good
friend's wedding in August.
My brother got married on July 2, and I was the Best
Man (I stood beside my brother when he got married.)
His wife is named Caryn, and she is a wonderful,
funny, interesting, sweet girl. I travelled to Dan's
town two weeks before the wedding to help him prepare
the last details. I met most of Dan's good friends,
and I really like Dan's friends and his church. There
are lots of good people in his life, so it was really
fun to see him with his friends.
My mom's stomach cancer slowly got worse and worse.
She couldn't eat much, so she got thinner and thinner.
She also got weaker. In July, she was too weak to go
to Dan's wedding. That was very sad. However, many
relatives (uncles, aunts, cousins) came to Dan's
wedding. It was AMAZING to see so much family there.
The wedding day was full of serious times, where
everybody thought about Dan and Caryn's love, and
about God's love for His people. The wedding day was
ALSO full of joy and laughing and funny times. It was
an incredible, amazing, wonderful wedding. I will put
some pictures from the wedding in this e-mail.
After the wedding, many uncles and aunts came to my
town, to visit my mother. She was very happy to see
so many people who loved her.
My time in BC has been good. I've learned a lot about
love, by watching how my father and mother love each
other, and watching how the church in Agassiz loves my
family. The church really really helped us a lot.
People came to visit, and brought food, and cleaned
our house, and did many many small, very useful
things. I'm amazed and thankful that God's people are
so good at helping each other. I think that the
friends and church people are like mirrors that show
God's love for me. God took care of me this summer by
sending loving people to me.
I also learned about love from my friends, because my
friends have been really good and helpful to me. My
friends in Canada, and also in Korea helped me stay
strong, so that I can be strong enough to help my Mom
and Dad. Thank you for your love, my friends!
Since Dan's wedding, mom slowly got weaker, and the
cancer got stronger. Now she stays in bed usually,
and last week she suddenly stopped eating very many
meals. Before, she ate three small meals every day,
and some snacks. Now she eats one meal (sometimes)
every day, and only has drinks, but no snacks. I
can't say if she will still live one or two or three
weeks, but she probably will not live much longer.
After mom dies, I might spend some time travelling in
Canada to see all my important friends, but then I
will come to Korea again. Thank you for being my
friends in Korea. I'm excited to see you all again.
I have missed Korea a lot (especially Exgirfriendoseyo, my
church, and my wingman, Matt, and Korean Jimjilbang,
and samgyetang).
These weeks are going to be my most difficult weeks,
so I appreciate your prayers and thoughts, and thank
you for all the prayers you prayed all summer for me.
They really did help: Mom has a lot of peace in her
mind, and she doesn't have much pain from the cancer,
and that is amazing: usually stomach cancer is VERY
painful.
Sorry I didn't write more e-mails, and sorry this
letter is a little bit long. Thank you for being my
friends in Korea.
Rob Ouwehand
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
March 23rd 2005
Well, it's quiet today: last time I wrote a letter
like this, I was sitting in a sauna in Seoul, hoping
my ears wouldn't get blasted out of my head by the
earthquake-loud dance music playing nearby. This
time, I can hear a clock ticking, and wind blowing
outside the window. The air smells like carpet (an
extreme rarity in Korea: almost all floors are tile or
plastic cleverly disguised to look like light wood
paneling). I also smell cypress trees, growing things
(happy beginning of spring, all), and . . . nothing
(no car exhaust, no street food, no cigarettes). This
can only mean one thing: I am back in Canada.
I finished working on the 28th of February. My
Kindergarten students graduated to first grade (I have
really cute pictures) on the 25th, and I'm proud as
punch of them; Exgirfriendoseyo ALSO graduated from university
on the 25th of February, unfortunately at the same
time as my students, so, lacking the time to develop a
working duplicater safe for human use, I had to miss
seeing my girlfriend graduate. The conversation
went/may have gone like this:
"I wish you could be here to see me graduate, Rob."
"Oh Exgirfriendoseyo -- I wish I could be there! I'd scream
'That's my girlfriend and I love her!' as loud as I
could as you walked up to get your diploma!"
"But I guess it's OK that you can't come. Have fun
with your Kindergarten kids!"
for some reason she wasn't too upset.
I stayed in Korea until March 14th -- two extra weeks
after I finished working. Matt F, my best friend in
Korea (and the newest member of my pantheon of best
friends in the world), let me stay at his house for
two weeks, in his guest bed. This was really great of
him (especially after I figured out that the window
panels were improperly lined up, and THAT'S why the
room was so cold at night.)
The reason I stayed an extra two weeks was so that I
could end my time in Korea on a series of high notes
with my different friends and communities, rather than
on a frantic, rushed, "I still have to finish
packing!" note, like in 2003. Also, I wanted to spend
a LOT of time with my wonderful, beautiful, sweet,
funny . . . (she knows all the other adjectives that
go in this space) . . . warm-hearted and all-around
fantastic girlfriend Exgirfriendoseyo.
After my last day of work, (and before), I had a real
blast winding down my time in Korea. Matt took me
dancing one night (something I'd missed doing since we
were in Japan), I lost money playing poker with the
old coworkers, and I spent a lot of time with Exgirfriendoseyo.
A lot. In fact, just about the only time I DIDN'T
spend with Exgirfriendoseyo, was spent either packing, or
preparing some kind of gift for Exgirfriendoseyo, or travelling
to meet Exgirfriendoseyo, or sleeping, or with Matt. The number
one goal of my extra two weeks was to solidify the
relationship Exgirfriendoseyo and I have had since the end of
July, and make sure that it's built solidly enough to
last, and grow, during my time in Canada. It will be
a difficult time, and distance is never easy, but the
extra two weeks seemed to be exactly the right amount
of time to get everything really working well.
My next goal is to get her to come to Canada. We're
working on a strategy for talking to/asking her
parents, that includes a formal invitation from my
parents and stuff like that. Here's to hoping. My
mom really wants to see Exgirfriendoseyo again (and Exgirfriendoseyo wants
to see my Mom), and I think we can make it happen.
Now that I'm back in Canada, I'm starting to look for
work, and I'm writing a lot. This is a good thing. I
hope that I'll be able to do a lot of work on poetry
and stories, and hopefully, even be able to start
sending poems out to magazines and such. So if
anybody reading this is a magazine publisher, and you
need a poem to fill in an empty space, just give me a
shout! Beyond that, my main goal is just to be around
the house, making myself useful to my mom and dad as
Mom gets weaker, and Dad feels the strain of caring
for a sick wife. It's really the least I can do.
One thing I've learned over the last six months is how
important family can be. Mom and Dad have been
supported by their church family these months, and now
I'm in Canada to do what I can. Often, the best
things families do for each other aren't spectacular:
your uncle doesn't have to save you from a burning oil
refinery to be your hero, and your friend doesn't have
to carry you down a mountainside after you break your
ankle, to prove (s)he's a friend for life. Usually
love shows itself best in small ways -- a touch of
compassion, a compliment, a hug at the right time.
Right now, to be here for my mom and dad, it's all
menial things -- carrying in the groceries, mowing the
lawn, cooking dinner because mom loses her appetite if
she cooks, cleaning bathrooms because company's
coming. But, the sum of those things is not the
trivial nature of the work I'm doing, it's the way I
can show my love for my family right now. I'm lucky
enough to be in a position where I can do that, and
I'm so glad that Mom has someone to carry in the
groceries. (I think she is, too.)
Mom gets tired more easily. In October, when she came
to Korea, she managed to out-last both me and my dad
as we toured around Seoul. Now, she rests most of the
day if she's going out in the evening, and she falls
asleep at 8 pm if she's been active in the afternoon.
Sometimes she eats well, and sometimes her stomach
just rebels, but she is amazingly peaceful. She is
happy to see the people who come by, and she has an
attitude as positive as anybody I've met (which is
totally in character for her, but that only makes it
more remarkable). Dad sometimes feels the strain, too
-- he gets headaches and such sometimes, and every
once in a while he has a really emotionally exhausting
day, so please keep both of them in your prayers.
The Thursday after I arrived in Canada, my brother in
law had a birthday party for my sister. Her birthday
is January 1, but since New Year's Day is already a
party day, he decided to throw her a party on a
different day, so that her birthday was a special
occasion of its own. Unfortunately, Mom, Dad and I
had been told everything about the party but its
location (I don't think that's what was intended when
Brad said a surprise party), so we only managed to
find the party at all because I had stuck our
cellphone in my pocket, and forgotten it was there
when we drove out to Langley. Deb called us and we
found our way to our friend Sarah's house.
Then, on Saturday, my Uncle Tony and Aunt Marianne
came from Thunder Bay, Ontario, and on Monday my Uncle
Hugh and Aunt Heather (both Uncles are Dad's brothers)
came by from the Okanagan in BC, in order to help us
celebrate Mom and Dad's 30th wedding anniversary.
This was a pretty big, exciting thing. About 80
people from the Agassiz community came to and open
house in our church building, and gave their best
wishes to Mom and Dad. My uncles and aunts played
guitar, sang, and told jokes, and everybody ate,
signed the guest book, looked through Mom and Dad's
wedding album, and took pictures of the happy couple.
My uncle Tony reflected how an anniversary like this
celebrates the idea of marriage and commitment, as
well as my Mom and Dad's marriage, and it reminds
everybody to hold onto the ones they love. Doing this
takes a lot of different things: sometimes one is
needy, and sometimes the other. Sometimes, the main
thing that holds a marriage through a hard time is
stubbornness, and sometimes relationships only survive
by luck, or sheer grace, by the hope that things will
get better through commitment, effort and humility,
by the hope that the stubbornness will be worthwhile,
and give the grace a space to shine. Through all this
celebration, the main feeling, I think, was
thankfulness -- Dad thanks God for Mom, and the time
he's had with her. Mom thanks God for Dad, and the
love she's been able to give and receive. I thank God
that Mom met Dad, because if they hadn't, I'm not sure
how I'd be able to send this letter (and they swear
they're glad I was born, too). My parents have
touched a lot of people in their lifetimes, and will
touch more people in new ways before they're done, but
the anniversary celebration was a great way to note
how much good can come out of two people deciding to
build a life together, to make love an important part
of their life. I've always thought love is like a
muscle: the more you work it, the stronger it gets,
and the stronger a muscle is, the more work it can do,
and the more people it can help.
I'm not sure how long I'll be in Canada, but I hope I
get lots of opportunities to exercise love, and to
grow stronger because of it; the people around me in
Canada (and the US), and the people waiting for me in
Korea, deserve the strongest, most loving Rob I can
be.
Take care of yourselves.
If you live near Agassiz, give me a call: I have lots
of free time right now, and I'd love to catch up. If
you don't have my number, just hit the reply button
(delete the text of the rest of my letter) and ask for
my digits.
with love:
Rob Ouwehand
like this, I was sitting in a sauna in Seoul, hoping
my ears wouldn't get blasted out of my head by the
earthquake-loud dance music playing nearby. This
time, I can hear a clock ticking, and wind blowing
outside the window. The air smells like carpet (an
extreme rarity in Korea: almost all floors are tile or
plastic cleverly disguised to look like light wood
paneling). I also smell cypress trees, growing things
(happy beginning of spring, all), and . . . nothing
(no car exhaust, no street food, no cigarettes). This
can only mean one thing: I am back in Canada.
I finished working on the 28th of February. My
Kindergarten students graduated to first grade (I have
really cute pictures) on the 25th, and I'm proud as
punch of them; Exgirfriendoseyo ALSO graduated from university
on the 25th of February, unfortunately at the same
time as my students, so, lacking the time to develop a
working duplicater safe for human use, I had to miss
seeing my girlfriend graduate. The conversation
went/may have gone like this:
"I wish you could be here to see me graduate, Rob."
"Oh Exgirfriendoseyo -- I wish I could be there! I'd scream
'That's my girlfriend and I love her!' as loud as I
could as you walked up to get your diploma!"
"But I guess it's OK that you can't come. Have fun
with your Kindergarten kids!"
for some reason she wasn't too upset.
I stayed in Korea until March 14th -- two extra weeks
after I finished working. Matt F, my best friend in
Korea (and the newest member of my pantheon of best
friends in the world), let me stay at his house for
two weeks, in his guest bed. This was really great of
him (especially after I figured out that the window
panels were improperly lined up, and THAT'S why the
room was so cold at night.)
The reason I stayed an extra two weeks was so that I
could end my time in Korea on a series of high notes
with my different friends and communities, rather than
on a frantic, rushed, "I still have to finish
packing!" note, like in 2003. Also, I wanted to spend
a LOT of time with my wonderful, beautiful, sweet,
funny . . . (she knows all the other adjectives that
go in this space) . . . warm-hearted and all-around
fantastic girlfriend Exgirfriendoseyo.
After my last day of work, (and before), I had a real
blast winding down my time in Korea. Matt took me
dancing one night (something I'd missed doing since we
were in Japan), I lost money playing poker with the
old coworkers, and I spent a lot of time with Exgirfriendoseyo.
A lot. In fact, just about the only time I DIDN'T
spend with Exgirfriendoseyo, was spent either packing, or
preparing some kind of gift for Exgirfriendoseyo, or travelling
to meet Exgirfriendoseyo, or sleeping, or with Matt. The number
one goal of my extra two weeks was to solidify the
relationship Exgirfriendoseyo and I have had since the end of
July, and make sure that it's built solidly enough to
last, and grow, during my time in Canada. It will be
a difficult time, and distance is never easy, but the
extra two weeks seemed to be exactly the right amount
of time to get everything really working well.
My next goal is to get her to come to Canada. We're
working on a strategy for talking to/asking her
parents, that includes a formal invitation from my
parents and stuff like that. Here's to hoping. My
mom really wants to see Exgirfriendoseyo again (and Exgirfriendoseyo wants
to see my Mom), and I think we can make it happen.
Now that I'm back in Canada, I'm starting to look for
work, and I'm writing a lot. This is a good thing. I
hope that I'll be able to do a lot of work on poetry
and stories, and hopefully, even be able to start
sending poems out to magazines and such. So if
anybody reading this is a magazine publisher, and you
need a poem to fill in an empty space, just give me a
shout! Beyond that, my main goal is just to be around
the house, making myself useful to my mom and dad as
Mom gets weaker, and Dad feels the strain of caring
for a sick wife. It's really the least I can do.
One thing I've learned over the last six months is how
important family can be. Mom and Dad have been
supported by their church family these months, and now
I'm in Canada to do what I can. Often, the best
things families do for each other aren't spectacular:
your uncle doesn't have to save you from a burning oil
refinery to be your hero, and your friend doesn't have
to carry you down a mountainside after you break your
ankle, to prove (s)he's a friend for life. Usually
love shows itself best in small ways -- a touch of
compassion, a compliment, a hug at the right time.
Right now, to be here for my mom and dad, it's all
menial things -- carrying in the groceries, mowing the
lawn, cooking dinner because mom loses her appetite if
she cooks, cleaning bathrooms because company's
coming. But, the sum of those things is not the
trivial nature of the work I'm doing, it's the way I
can show my love for my family right now. I'm lucky
enough to be in a position where I can do that, and
I'm so glad that Mom has someone to carry in the
groceries. (I think she is, too.)
Mom gets tired more easily. In October, when she came
to Korea, she managed to out-last both me and my dad
as we toured around Seoul. Now, she rests most of the
day if she's going out in the evening, and she falls
asleep at 8 pm if she's been active in the afternoon.
Sometimes she eats well, and sometimes her stomach
just rebels, but she is amazingly peaceful. She is
happy to see the people who come by, and she has an
attitude as positive as anybody I've met (which is
totally in character for her, but that only makes it
more remarkable). Dad sometimes feels the strain, too
-- he gets headaches and such sometimes, and every
once in a while he has a really emotionally exhausting
day, so please keep both of them in your prayers.
The Thursday after I arrived in Canada, my brother in
law had a birthday party for my sister. Her birthday
is January 1, but since New Year's Day is already a
party day, he decided to throw her a party on a
different day, so that her birthday was a special
occasion of its own. Unfortunately, Mom, Dad and I
had been told everything about the party but its
location (I don't think that's what was intended when
Brad said a surprise party), so we only managed to
find the party at all because I had stuck our
cellphone in my pocket, and forgotten it was there
when we drove out to Langley. Deb called us and we
found our way to our friend Sarah's house.
Then, on Saturday, my Uncle Tony and Aunt Marianne
came from Thunder Bay, Ontario, and on Monday my Uncle
Hugh and Aunt Heather (both Uncles are Dad's brothers)
came by from the Okanagan in BC, in order to help us
celebrate Mom and Dad's 30th wedding anniversary.
This was a pretty big, exciting thing. About 80
people from the Agassiz community came to and open
house in our church building, and gave their best
wishes to Mom and Dad. My uncles and aunts played
guitar, sang, and told jokes, and everybody ate,
signed the guest book, looked through Mom and Dad's
wedding album, and took pictures of the happy couple.
My uncle Tony reflected how an anniversary like this
celebrates the idea of marriage and commitment, as
well as my Mom and Dad's marriage, and it reminds
everybody to hold onto the ones they love. Doing this
takes a lot of different things: sometimes one is
needy, and sometimes the other. Sometimes, the main
thing that holds a marriage through a hard time is
stubbornness, and sometimes relationships only survive
by luck, or sheer grace, by the hope that things will
get better through commitment, effort and humility,
by the hope that the stubbornness will be worthwhile,
and give the grace a space to shine. Through all this
celebration, the main feeling, I think, was
thankfulness -- Dad thanks God for Mom, and the time
he's had with her. Mom thanks God for Dad, and the
love she's been able to give and receive. I thank God
that Mom met Dad, because if they hadn't, I'm not sure
how I'd be able to send this letter (and they swear
they're glad I was born, too). My parents have
touched a lot of people in their lifetimes, and will
touch more people in new ways before they're done, but
the anniversary celebration was a great way to note
how much good can come out of two people deciding to
build a life together, to make love an important part
of their life. I've always thought love is like a
muscle: the more you work it, the stronger it gets,
and the stronger a muscle is, the more work it can do,
and the more people it can help.
I'm not sure how long I'll be in Canada, but I hope I
get lots of opportunities to exercise love, and to
grow stronger because of it; the people around me in
Canada (and the US), and the people waiting for me in
Korea, deserve the strongest, most loving Rob I can
be.
Take care of yourselves.
If you live near Agassiz, give me a call: I have lots
of free time right now, and I'd love to catch up. If
you don't have my number, just hit the reply button
(delete the text of the rest of my letter) and ask for
my digits.
with love:
Rob Ouwehand
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Christmas 2004 and New Year's 2005
The really, really loud music from the dance show
finally stopped, and now I'm only contending with the
moderately loud music and real-time fighting games
played by the kids sitting near me. I'm sitting in a
sauna's internet cafe, paying a lot more per minute
than most internet cafes, and feeling quite mellow,
thanks to having just soaked in hot and cold water.
I've reached the point in my contract where the light
at the end of the tunnel is getting quite a bit
brighter, and I don't mind that a bit; soon I'll get
to that mellow stage where nothing can phase me
anymore, the stage where I walk around all day as if
I'd just woken up, and I answer everything anybody
says to me with "No worries, pal!"
We have a CD player in the staff room, so all is well,
as long as I can put on some music during the five
heartbeat (I mean five minute) pause (not long enough
to qualify as an actual break) between classes, and
listen to a song. I've nicknamed the CD player "My
job satisfaction", because really, I'm just that easy
to please. There's a selection of music in the CD
wallet I leave at work that's varied enough that I'll
have songs ready to start me up (Led Zeppelin, Yeah
Yeah Yeahs), slow me down (Norah Jones, Nick Drake),
give me something new on my mind (Miles Davis, Glenn
Gould), take me out into left field (Flaming Lips,
Havalina Rail Co.) or just plain make me feel good
(Cat Stevens, Beach Boys, Prince). Seeing as the
break is exactly one song long, I'm set. Nothing bugs
me, as long as there are tunes -- even the new
Kindergarten teacher who made defamatory statements
about Mother Theresa's politics ("she should have
built a hospital -- why did she go and send all that
money to the vatican?"), or questioning the historical
existence of the prophet Mohammed (who led a conquest
during his life, and whose line of heirs were/are(?)
Islam's leaders for centuries). Whatever. It's all
good. She's just trying to start a conversation, and
sometimes it's fun to take her bait, if you can still
hear over the sound of Joe (the guy sitting on the
other side of me), grinding his teeth in annoyance.
(He isn't fond of her shocking statement converstaion
style).
Whatever. It's all good. No worries, pal!
Happy New Year.
As most of you know, I spent Christmas in BC (Agassiz
specifically, with brief forays into Langley,
Chilliwack, Vancouver, Harrison Hot Springs, and a
mountainside near my home). This was an excellent
thing. The doctors have given mom about 4-6 months,
(but we don't say things like "Last Christmas
Together" out loud, 'cos that makes the egg nog and
almond rings taste a little bitter, or at least
bittersweet, and who's cutting onions in the other
room again?). We had some amazing moments of family
closeness reflecting on the last year, making
Oliebollen (dutch new-years treats deep-fried in oil),
cooking a turkey, wandering around Harrison Hot
Springs, and driving all over the Fraser Valley in
units of three or four.
Of course, as with any family, seven days of family
closeness was. . . well, tiring -- everybody was
totally beat by the end of it, but it was great.
My nephew kept wanting to hug me so hard I fell over,
"Tio Rob. Do you have a squish for me today?" and my
niece wanted to shout "NO" at me every time I spoke to
her (which her father asked me, rightfully, to
discourage. I did my best); she would also blink at
me rather than make other funny faces. She was really
sweet and affectionate to my brother Dan, though -- I
smiled to see her run towards his legs as if he were a
magnet and she a paperclip begging to be picked up.
I'm continually impressed at how reasonable my
sister's kids are -- they respond amazingly well to
reasoned and calm explanation of why you can't play
that game, or why you won't give him the plastic
hammer until he says he's sorry for hitting your. . .
um . . . lap . . . with it. (didn't actually happen.)
If you tell them to play nicely, they actually DO!
Deb and Brad were in and out, being the closest to
home in Langley (an hour away), but the dinner table
is never full without the laughs Deb brings to it, and
the planned zaniness of things like no-utensil
spaghetti meals and cream pie fights. Dan remains the
funniest person I know, and also the one who
understands me best in the world -- the one who'd know
all the secrets. The midnight cigars and frigid walks
and drives are something I'd never trade for anything.
His fiance Caryn. . . let's just say I can't wait for
her to be my sister. She fit into the family
amazingly well. Her first ENTIRE WEEK (wow) with the
entire family totally exhausted her (of course -- a
new family is like a new culture, and culture shock is
exhausting, whether it's national or familial), but
she stood up amazingly well, and I think everyone in
the family has really warmed up to her, since seeing
her in all the different contexts and situations that
come up in a whole week together.
Two of my uncles came out as well -- it was great to
see them, too, and I love those people, and two of my
nearest and dearest also came out to see me, and that
put a big old smile on my face, too.
On the Tuesday, my sister bought some whipped cream
and whipped egg-whites, and we had a cream pie fight,
where we pull names out of a hat and throw cream pies
in our family's faces. I aksidentaly got some craem
in my fase (bad for the allergies) instead of just egg
wite (and the spelling in this passage is a clue as to
who perpetrated this cream-smearing). Some got in my
eye, which irritated my eye, and had me worried that
I'd have pink eyes for. . . the family pictures later
that afternoon. Yes, we got family pictures. They
were great -- we got some amazing pictures of everyone
in the family, and especially some real keepers of my
wonderful mom. I can't wait to see the copies.
As you know, I'll be coming back to Canada in March to
take care of my family and see my brother properly
married. We'll be apart for a while, but I'm working
hard now on establishing solid roots for our
relationship, and positive patterns of trust and
communication, so that we're equipped to deal with a
time apart. Francois Duc de Rochefoucauld once said
"Absence lessens the small loves and increases the
great ones, as the wind blows out a candle and blows
up a bonfire."
(I'm not actually THAT smart: I looked that quote up
on the internet so I could use it.) So my work right
now is to make sure that the flame is big enough
before I leave that the absence will increase it,
rather than extinguish it. Talking to my friend
Melissa, who had a long absence in the middle of HER
courtship with her wonderful now-husband, made me feel
a lot better about this.
(the now, retroactively renamed Exgirlfriendoseyo and I celebrated an anniversary this weekend
at a FANCY restaurant, taking pictures together at a
photo studio (quite nice ones), and eating lamb and
steak in a restaurant overlooking Seoul at night.
Every time I see her it's better than the time
before.)
Anyway, before I make you all ill with my mushy talk,
I'll move on to other topics.
As when news came out that Matthias has muscular
dystrophy, and the sweet people in church showed their
concern by asking, weekly, "How's your nephew,"
despite the fact muscular dystrophy is a disease that
will take about 20 years to finish its process, now,
well-meaning students continually ask about my mom,
and I have to say, several times a day, "still sick."
This situation requires tact and discretion more than
anything else, as much as the first instinct is to be
surly and say "please don't bring that up right now"
or to look for the nearest exit. I'm doing my best.
It's an interesting aspect of human nature that, even
when your situation is difficult, you can still find
what one coworker calls "the little v's" -- the small
victories. He's a smoker, so for him, every smoke,
and ever cup of coffee make his day a little better.
Little things can totally change one's perspective --
people caught on desert islands probably spend as much
time wishing for a toothbrush as wishing for an
emergency transmitter. My little victories are not
cigarettes and cups of coffee, but times my students
crack me up, the five minute conversations with my
girlfriend during lunch and long breaks, getting a
message on my phone, getting e-mails, and being
cracked up by Matt and the others in the staff room.
Long hot showers. Saunas. Cold winter air that wakes
me up. The smell of Exgirfriendoseyo's hair. Matt's loud
laugh. Cindy (in Kindergarten) absently taking and
holding my hand during class. And if I can play music
in the staff room at break time too, well, I'm
laughing my way home at night. Optimism and,
moreover, contentment/happiness, just like holiness,
awareness, fitness, and punctuality, are not so much
conditions as disciplines, and I'm learning how to be
in the habit of happiness.
Take care my wonderful peoples. I hope all of you are
in the habit of happiness and optimism.
love
Rob Ouwehand
finally stopped, and now I'm only contending with the
moderately loud music and real-time fighting games
played by the kids sitting near me. I'm sitting in a
sauna's internet cafe, paying a lot more per minute
than most internet cafes, and feeling quite mellow,
thanks to having just soaked in hot and cold water.
I've reached the point in my contract where the light
at the end of the tunnel is getting quite a bit
brighter, and I don't mind that a bit; soon I'll get
to that mellow stage where nothing can phase me
anymore, the stage where I walk around all day as if
I'd just woken up, and I answer everything anybody
says to me with "No worries, pal!"
We have a CD player in the staff room, so all is well,
as long as I can put on some music during the five
heartbeat (I mean five minute) pause (not long enough
to qualify as an actual break) between classes, and
listen to a song. I've nicknamed the CD player "My
job satisfaction", because really, I'm just that easy
to please. There's a selection of music in the CD
wallet I leave at work that's varied enough that I'll
have songs ready to start me up (Led Zeppelin, Yeah
Yeah Yeahs), slow me down (Norah Jones, Nick Drake),
give me something new on my mind (Miles Davis, Glenn
Gould), take me out into left field (Flaming Lips,
Havalina Rail Co.) or just plain make me feel good
(Cat Stevens, Beach Boys, Prince). Seeing as the
break is exactly one song long, I'm set. Nothing bugs
me, as long as there are tunes -- even the new
Kindergarten teacher who made defamatory statements
about Mother Theresa's politics ("she should have
built a hospital -- why did she go and send all that
money to the vatican?"), or questioning the historical
existence of the prophet Mohammed (who led a conquest
during his life, and whose line of heirs were/are(?)
Islam's leaders for centuries). Whatever. It's all
good. She's just trying to start a conversation, and
sometimes it's fun to take her bait, if you can still
hear over the sound of Joe (the guy sitting on the
other side of me), grinding his teeth in annoyance.
(He isn't fond of her shocking statement converstaion
style).
Whatever. It's all good. No worries, pal!
Happy New Year.
As most of you know, I spent Christmas in BC (Agassiz
specifically, with brief forays into Langley,
Chilliwack, Vancouver, Harrison Hot Springs, and a
mountainside near my home). This was an excellent
thing. The doctors have given mom about 4-6 months,
(but we don't say things like "Last Christmas
Together" out loud, 'cos that makes the egg nog and
almond rings taste a little bitter, or at least
bittersweet, and who's cutting onions in the other
room again?). We had some amazing moments of family
closeness reflecting on the last year, making
Oliebollen (dutch new-years treats deep-fried in oil),
cooking a turkey, wandering around Harrison Hot
Springs, and driving all over the Fraser Valley in
units of three or four.
Of course, as with any family, seven days of family
closeness was. . . well, tiring -- everybody was
totally beat by the end of it, but it was great.
My nephew kept wanting to hug me so hard I fell over,
"Tio Rob. Do you have a squish for me today?" and my
niece wanted to shout "NO" at me every time I spoke to
her (which her father asked me, rightfully, to
discourage. I did my best); she would also blink at
me rather than make other funny faces. She was really
sweet and affectionate to my brother Dan, though -- I
smiled to see her run towards his legs as if he were a
magnet and she a paperclip begging to be picked up.
I'm continually impressed at how reasonable my
sister's kids are -- they respond amazingly well to
reasoned and calm explanation of why you can't play
that game, or why you won't give him the plastic
hammer until he says he's sorry for hitting your. . .
um . . . lap . . . with it. (didn't actually happen.)
If you tell them to play nicely, they actually DO!
Deb and Brad were in and out, being the closest to
home in Langley (an hour away), but the dinner table
is never full without the laughs Deb brings to it, and
the planned zaniness of things like no-utensil
spaghetti meals and cream pie fights. Dan remains the
funniest person I know, and also the one who
understands me best in the world -- the one who'd know
all the secrets. The midnight cigars and frigid walks
and drives are something I'd never trade for anything.
His fiance Caryn. . . let's just say I can't wait for
her to be my sister. She fit into the family
amazingly well. Her first ENTIRE WEEK (wow) with the
entire family totally exhausted her (of course -- a
new family is like a new culture, and culture shock is
exhausting, whether it's national or familial), but
she stood up amazingly well, and I think everyone in
the family has really warmed up to her, since seeing
her in all the different contexts and situations that
come up in a whole week together.
Two of my uncles came out as well -- it was great to
see them, too, and I love those people, and two of my
nearest and dearest also came out to see me, and that
put a big old smile on my face, too.
On the Tuesday, my sister bought some whipped cream
and whipped egg-whites, and we had a cream pie fight,
where we pull names out of a hat and throw cream pies
in our family's faces. I aksidentaly got some craem
in my fase (bad for the allergies) instead of just egg
wite (and the spelling in this passage is a clue as to
who perpetrated this cream-smearing). Some got in my
eye, which irritated my eye, and had me worried that
I'd have pink eyes for. . . the family pictures later
that afternoon. Yes, we got family pictures. They
were great -- we got some amazing pictures of everyone
in the family, and especially some real keepers of my
wonderful mom. I can't wait to see the copies.
As you know, I'll be coming back to Canada in March to
take care of my family and see my brother properly
married. We'll be apart for a while, but I'm working
hard now on establishing solid roots for our
relationship, and positive patterns of trust and
communication, so that we're equipped to deal with a
time apart. Francois Duc de Rochefoucauld once said
"Absence lessens the small loves and increases the
great ones, as the wind blows out a candle and blows
up a bonfire."
(I'm not actually THAT smart: I looked that quote up
on the internet so I could use it.) So my work right
now is to make sure that the flame is big enough
before I leave that the absence will increase it,
rather than extinguish it. Talking to my friend
Melissa, who had a long absence in the middle of HER
courtship with her wonderful now-husband, made me feel
a lot better about this.
(the now, retroactively renamed Exgirlfriendoseyo and I celebrated an anniversary this weekend
at a FANCY restaurant, taking pictures together at a
photo studio (quite nice ones), and eating lamb and
steak in a restaurant overlooking Seoul at night.
Every time I see her it's better than the time
before.)
Anyway, before I make you all ill with my mushy talk,
I'll move on to other topics.
As when news came out that Matthias has muscular
dystrophy, and the sweet people in church showed their
concern by asking, weekly, "How's your nephew,"
despite the fact muscular dystrophy is a disease that
will take about 20 years to finish its process, now,
well-meaning students continually ask about my mom,
and I have to say, several times a day, "still sick."
This situation requires tact and discretion more than
anything else, as much as the first instinct is to be
surly and say "please don't bring that up right now"
or to look for the nearest exit. I'm doing my best.
It's an interesting aspect of human nature that, even
when your situation is difficult, you can still find
what one coworker calls "the little v's" -- the small
victories. He's a smoker, so for him, every smoke,
and ever cup of coffee make his day a little better.
Little things can totally change one's perspective --
people caught on desert islands probably spend as much
time wishing for a toothbrush as wishing for an
emergency transmitter. My little victories are not
cigarettes and cups of coffee, but times my students
crack me up, the five minute conversations with my
girlfriend during lunch and long breaks, getting a
message on my phone, getting e-mails, and being
cracked up by Matt and the others in the staff room.
Long hot showers. Saunas. Cold winter air that wakes
me up. The smell of Exgirfriendoseyo's hair. Matt's loud
laugh. Cindy (in Kindergarten) absently taking and
holding my hand during class. And if I can play music
in the staff room at break time too, well, I'm
laughing my way home at night. Optimism and,
moreover, contentment/happiness, just like holiness,
awareness, fitness, and punctuality, are not so much
conditions as disciplines, and I'm learning how to be
in the habit of happiness.
Take care my wonderful peoples. I hope all of you are
in the habit of happiness and optimism.
love
Rob Ouwehand
Monday, December 27, 2004
Christmas 2004
Greetings everyone.
Hi. Merry Christmas (in case I don't have a chance to
otherwise greet you for Christmas). It's getting
colder, plastic evergreens are springing up like
flowers in May or acne the week before prom night, so
it must be December. This Christmas feels more like
Christmas than last year, because, I suppose, of the
music: last year the only Christmas music I got to
hear all December was that elevator Christmas music
you get on the radio, which is usually not the kind of
holy, meditative Christmas music that puts me in the
holiday/Advent spirit, but this year I have the
antidote: I have place my Handel's Messiah in the CD
case that I carry around to work and home, so whenever
I want it to start feeling like Christmas, I just pop
some Handel into the tape player in each classroom,
and have the Messiah as the background music for that
class. The Messiah being the one thing that readies
me for the holidays more than any other thing, I'm
feeling much more Christmassy this year, even though I
haven't so much as smelled egg not, tasted a candy
cane, or even seen a nativity scene.
Korea has its beauties, even in winter -- the trees
are finally empty of their various colours, which
means I can see the mountain more easily. (**one
single white male: tall, sensitive, articulate,
seeking a silver lining to various clouds; if
interested call 0** *** **** after business hours.
Serious inquiries only.**). Unfortunately, as
beautiful as Seoul winter can (HONESTLY!) be, I've not
been able to enjoy it for the last week, because I've
been feeling sudden urges to fall asleep, cold sweats,
and a bad cough. That's right, yours truly is sick: I
get funny tastes (and sometimes colours) in my mouth
when I cough, I wake up with headaches and am
constantly thirsty. Sometimes I sneeze fifteen times
in two minutes for no apparent reason. I even took
Wednesday off to rest. I'll get better, of course,
but it's a pain being sick and having a bedtime of
10:00 pm.
Let's get this over with quickly:
you all know now (unless you've forgotten somehow)
that my mother has terminal stomach/liver/other places
cancer. This means I will be going home for
Christmas. That means I had to purchase a plane
ticket home for Christmas, which also meant I now have
no money for Christmas presents (sorry everyone -- ask
again on a year when my mother isn't dying. Believe
me, I wish I had the choice to spend my December
paycheck on books CDs and hobby accessories for all my
friends, too.) It means I will be in Canada, in
Agassiz, specifically, for the week between Christmas
Day and New Years' day, but it also means that my top
top tippy toppest priority is to be with my family
this Christmas as (here come the waterworks) it
may/probably will be my family's last Christmas with
my mother in the mix. All this is to say no, I can't
spare a whole day (out of my five, one of which is
lost to jetlag) for you; no, I can't drive out to
Langley or Vancouver or Red Deer or Manhattan to swing
by your new pad (though I'm sure it's really cool).
However, if you want to come out to Agassiz to see me,
I'll make sure that Mom and Dad have lots of tea and
crackers on hand, and you can drop me a line and I'll
send you directions to my house.
But unless seeing me is deathly urgent, or I am
"please become godfather to my children" level close
to you, here is some reassuring news:
I'd asked my boss if I could extend my contract for
three extra months so that I had three more paychecks
before I came back to Canada, and I could properly be
my brother's best man in July when he gets married,
having worked until May, I'd be able to live in Red
Deer in June and sort things out for him. My boss,
for whatever reason, decided she'd rather hire
somebody else next March, and has decided to reject my
offer to stay for three extra months. Maybe the
uncertainty of my family situation was part of her
rationale, but in the end, I'm not too fussed. She'll
be able to bring on a new teacher at the beginning of
a semester (which is nice for her), and maybe hire a
couple (which is cheaper for her), and I don't have to
bust my groove thang for 10 and a half hours a day for
an extra three months. And (here's that silver lining
I advertised for earlier:) now I'll be coming home at
the beginning of March, so that's not too far off
after Christmas -- barely any time at all, the way
time keeps passing faster and faster!) so I can be
there for my parents' 30th Wedding Anniversary! I
hadn't thought about this, but that's pretty exciting.
And, suddenly I've gone from having about five more
months at this school, to having just over two more,
and that, my friends, is a nice feeling, considering
the level of workaholism the administration has begun
to ask of its teachers.
The downside (and this is big) is that I'm gonna miss
my girlfriend the now, retroactively renamed Exgirlfriendoseyo.
A lot.
A lot.
As she will me.
but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
of course that part won't be easy. she's really been
a rock for me, and I'm so grateful and lucky/blessed
that she's in my life right now. Everybody in my
Church (where she's been attending weekly), just
adores her, and asks about her caringly when she's
absent because of a test or a paper.
She's doing exams and papers right now, wrapping up
her final semester, so I'm trying to be a steadfast
support for her, and encourage her in her studies.
Last night I cooked special, Rob-style spaghetti and
brought it, in a plastic container, down to the school
where she was studying, and surprised her with dinner
there. That was fun -- but we're trying to find the
balance between relationship maintenance and diligent
study, but right now I feel like diligent study is
winning by a longshot, and I miss her sometimes. Of
course, this, too, shall pass, and the reunion (of
sorts) when she has leisure time again, will be
wonderful, but for now I'm trying to be a solid
support and encourage her as much as I can.
A few weeks ago I got this one: the opposite of
YESterday is NOterday.
I've been having fun with my kids; I've learned how to
speak Konglish really well -- English with TOTALLY
Korean pronounciation, and that always cracks up the
kids, but the best laugh one of the kids dealt to me
came a few weeks ago.
I was teaching the word "Statue", and I mentioned that
often we see statues in churches and temples. Eddie,
one of my sweetest Kindergarten students, made the
finger gesture that the Buddha often makes in his
statues -- thumb and middle finger touching as if you
moved the "A-OK" sign down a finger, as if he's about
to flick something with his middle finger. Then he
asked "Teacher, do you know why Buddha is making that
way?" (making that gesture)
"Why, Eddie?"
now I have to explain a game of rock scissor paper
that korean kids play (they LOVE variations on rock,
scissor paper, and it's the ultimate argument settler
in this country; it's universally recognized as fair).
In one of the variations, the winner of the game gets
to flick the loser in the middle of the forehead.
This flick is usually done by the index finger or the
(strongest) middle finger. Eddie explains to me that
Buddha is making that gesture because. . .
"Buddha and God play rock scissor paper. And Buddha
win, so Buddha can do this one" (makes flicking
motion) "to God".
I didn't find this a bit blasphemous, of course -- it
was just a kid living in a culture where Buddha and
God are about equal influences on the religious
preferences of people around him, trying to make sense
of it all. It made me laugh, and hey, the dude wears
the virgin Mary around his neck two days in five, so
he'll grow up to understand more about it all, I hope
in a way that's as lighthearted as that, down the
road. It's a lot nicer to be able to chuckle about
the way religions can live alongside each other than
the two girls in another class who have been known to
feud in class because of has Christian parents and the
other has Buddhist parents (I learned about that one
from my teaching assistant). It saddens me that kids
so young are already building walls and being nasty to
each other over religion, which (from what I've
gathered) is (if nothing else) humanity's attempt to
figure out how NOT to be nasty to each other.
I explained counting syllables to a class by using
words that had lots of syllables, that I knew the kids
wouldn't know, to show that you don't have to know a
word to sound it out or count its syllables. The
words I used were "detrimental" and "extraneous",
which I repeated several times in class, until one kid
put up his hand and asked "Teacher, what's
excremental?"
My girlfriend sends me messages on my phone, and she
keeps making adorable spelling mistakes -- and somehow
her spelling mistakes ALWAYS turn into different
words; they never just turn into nonsense. She spells
message wrong, so she regularly says things like
"thanks for that massage. it made me laugh"
or "i'll send you a massage later"
yesterday she said "I told my mom that you brought me
spaghetti. "She was empressed" (I don't know what the
emperor's wife has to do with my spaghetti OR her mom,
but it make me smile)
and unfortunately, since she'll recieve this letter, I
guess that massage mistake's gonna stop now, but it's
been fun.
so that of course leads to the question "When your
Korean friends' chronic English errors are really
cute, is it still your responsibility to correct
them?" -- one lady at work always says lunch "lonchee"
so that the word lunch almost rhymes with the word
"raunchy" -- and do I need to correct that, when it's
so cute? She's the same one who told me, when I went
to the doctor's, that I have to get lots of lest.
My name regularly becomes lobeuh (which is how Koreans
say "Love" in Konglish), so I'm Love teacher to some
of my kids, and to others, I've told them about the
Lobster nickname, so I have a few kids who won't stop
calling me Lobster, Love, or Robot, which I don't
mind.
Matt's brother Joel is here, and he's cool. And I've
started making spaghetti again, after almost a
two-year hiatus. This is really nice -- it'd been so
long since I'd made spaghetti, it's nice to get back
into practice. Also, especially during a time that's
particularly emotionally challenging, with a
girlfriend who's unavailable because she has to study,
making spaghetti is (I realized) a REALLY comforting
ritual for me. Making it makes me feel almost as good
as eating it. Plus, afterwards, my house smells SO
good afterwards.
Anyway, I should probably go. I'll see some of you
this coming Christmas, and the rest of you in March.
I miss you and I love you, Korea's still good, life
and God are still good -- it just sometimes takes some
looking to find the silver lining. Like when your mom
sends you an e-mail about how "it's getting more
difficult to do everyday things -- I had to take a nap
in the middle of a meeting with some church families"
-- but then, it's also my mom where I take my cues,
and where I learned, to look for a silver lining. I
remember her saying "well, you know, surgery's not an
option, but on the bright side, I get to keep my
stomach and eat food with flavour," and "I try to
think positively -- I've lost a lot of weight, but hey
-- I fit into everything in my closet now! And I
don't snore anymore!"
Way to go, mom. Everybody on this list could learn
from you. I'm not sick -- I'm just staying home from
work to watch movies and sleep. No less than Hamlet
himself said, "there is nothing either good or bad,
but thinking makes it so", and John Milton agreed that
"The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make
heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven." and, to
paraphrase Proverbs 17:1: "Better a dry crust with
peace and quiet than a house full of feasting", I'll
say, "better a sick mom full of love and joy and
wisdom, than a healthy mom who's the subject of all my
trips to the counsellor" I wouldn't trade you for the
world, Mom.
And to all the rest of you:
well, I like you all, quite a bit, too.
God Bless
Rob
Hi. Merry Christmas (in case I don't have a chance to
otherwise greet you for Christmas). It's getting
colder, plastic evergreens are springing up like
flowers in May or acne the week before prom night, so
it must be December. This Christmas feels more like
Christmas than last year, because, I suppose, of the
music: last year the only Christmas music I got to
hear all December was that elevator Christmas music
you get on the radio, which is usually not the kind of
holy, meditative Christmas music that puts me in the
holiday/Advent spirit, but this year I have the
antidote: I have place my Handel's Messiah in the CD
case that I carry around to work and home, so whenever
I want it to start feeling like Christmas, I just pop
some Handel into the tape player in each classroom,
and have the Messiah as the background music for that
class. The Messiah being the one thing that readies
me for the holidays more than any other thing, I'm
feeling much more Christmassy this year, even though I
haven't so much as smelled egg not, tasted a candy
cane, or even seen a nativity scene.
Korea has its beauties, even in winter -- the trees
are finally empty of their various colours, which
means I can see the mountain more easily. (**one
single white male: tall, sensitive, articulate,
seeking a silver lining to various clouds; if
interested call 0** *** **** after business hours.
Serious inquiries only.**). Unfortunately, as
beautiful as Seoul winter can (HONESTLY!) be, I've not
been able to enjoy it for the last week, because I've
been feeling sudden urges to fall asleep, cold sweats,
and a bad cough. That's right, yours truly is sick: I
get funny tastes (and sometimes colours) in my mouth
when I cough, I wake up with headaches and am
constantly thirsty. Sometimes I sneeze fifteen times
in two minutes for no apparent reason. I even took
Wednesday off to rest. I'll get better, of course,
but it's a pain being sick and having a bedtime of
10:00 pm.
Let's get this over with quickly:
you all know now (unless you've forgotten somehow)
that my mother has terminal stomach/liver/other places
cancer. This means I will be going home for
Christmas. That means I had to purchase a plane
ticket home for Christmas, which also meant I now have
no money for Christmas presents (sorry everyone -- ask
again on a year when my mother isn't dying. Believe
me, I wish I had the choice to spend my December
paycheck on books CDs and hobby accessories for all my
friends, too.) It means I will be in Canada, in
Agassiz, specifically, for the week between Christmas
Day and New Years' day, but it also means that my top
top tippy toppest priority is to be with my family
this Christmas as (here come the waterworks) it
may/probably will be my family's last Christmas with
my mother in the mix. All this is to say no, I can't
spare a whole day (out of my five, one of which is
lost to jetlag) for you; no, I can't drive out to
Langley or Vancouver or Red Deer or Manhattan to swing
by your new pad (though I'm sure it's really cool).
However, if you want to come out to Agassiz to see me,
I'll make sure that Mom and Dad have lots of tea and
crackers on hand, and you can drop me a line and I'll
send you directions to my house.
But unless seeing me is deathly urgent, or I am
"please become godfather to my children" level close
to you, here is some reassuring news:
I'd asked my boss if I could extend my contract for
three extra months so that I had three more paychecks
before I came back to Canada, and I could properly be
my brother's best man in July when he gets married,
having worked until May, I'd be able to live in Red
Deer in June and sort things out for him. My boss,
for whatever reason, decided she'd rather hire
somebody else next March, and has decided to reject my
offer to stay for three extra months. Maybe the
uncertainty of my family situation was part of her
rationale, but in the end, I'm not too fussed. She'll
be able to bring on a new teacher at the beginning of
a semester (which is nice for her), and maybe hire a
couple (which is cheaper for her), and I don't have to
bust my groove thang for 10 and a half hours a day for
an extra three months. And (here's that silver lining
I advertised for earlier:) now I'll be coming home at
the beginning of March, so that's not too far off
after Christmas -- barely any time at all, the way
time keeps passing faster and faster!) so I can be
there for my parents' 30th Wedding Anniversary! I
hadn't thought about this, but that's pretty exciting.
And, suddenly I've gone from having about five more
months at this school, to having just over two more,
and that, my friends, is a nice feeling, considering
the level of workaholism the administration has begun
to ask of its teachers.
The downside (and this is big) is that I'm gonna miss
my girlfriend the now, retroactively renamed Exgirlfriendoseyo.
A lot.
A lot.
As she will me.
but we'll cross that bridge when we get there.
of course that part won't be easy. she's really been
a rock for me, and I'm so grateful and lucky/blessed
that she's in my life right now. Everybody in my
Church (where she's been attending weekly), just
adores her, and asks about her caringly when she's
absent because of a test or a paper.
She's doing exams and papers right now, wrapping up
her final semester, so I'm trying to be a steadfast
support for her, and encourage her in her studies.
Last night I cooked special, Rob-style spaghetti and
brought it, in a plastic container, down to the school
where she was studying, and surprised her with dinner
there. That was fun -- but we're trying to find the
balance between relationship maintenance and diligent
study, but right now I feel like diligent study is
winning by a longshot, and I miss her sometimes. Of
course, this, too, shall pass, and the reunion (of
sorts) when she has leisure time again, will be
wonderful, but for now I'm trying to be a solid
support and encourage her as much as I can.
A few weeks ago I got this one: the opposite of
YESterday is NOterday.
I've been having fun with my kids; I've learned how to
speak Konglish really well -- English with TOTALLY
Korean pronounciation, and that always cracks up the
kids, but the best laugh one of the kids dealt to me
came a few weeks ago.
I was teaching the word "Statue", and I mentioned that
often we see statues in churches and temples. Eddie,
one of my sweetest Kindergarten students, made the
finger gesture that the Buddha often makes in his
statues -- thumb and middle finger touching as if you
moved the "A-OK" sign down a finger, as if he's about
to flick something with his middle finger. Then he
asked "Teacher, do you know why Buddha is making that
way?" (making that gesture)
"Why, Eddie?"
now I have to explain a game of rock scissor paper
that korean kids play (they LOVE variations on rock,
scissor paper, and it's the ultimate argument settler
in this country; it's universally recognized as fair).
In one of the variations, the winner of the game gets
to flick the loser in the middle of the forehead.
This flick is usually done by the index finger or the
(strongest) middle finger. Eddie explains to me that
Buddha is making that gesture because. . .
"Buddha and God play rock scissor paper. And Buddha
win, so Buddha can do this one" (makes flicking
motion) "to God".
I didn't find this a bit blasphemous, of course -- it
was just a kid living in a culture where Buddha and
God are about equal influences on the religious
preferences of people around him, trying to make sense
of it all. It made me laugh, and hey, the dude wears
the virgin Mary around his neck two days in five, so
he'll grow up to understand more about it all, I hope
in a way that's as lighthearted as that, down the
road. It's a lot nicer to be able to chuckle about
the way religions can live alongside each other than
the two girls in another class who have been known to
feud in class because of has Christian parents and the
other has Buddhist parents (I learned about that one
from my teaching assistant). It saddens me that kids
so young are already building walls and being nasty to
each other over religion, which (from what I've
gathered) is (if nothing else) humanity's attempt to
figure out how NOT to be nasty to each other.
I explained counting syllables to a class by using
words that had lots of syllables, that I knew the kids
wouldn't know, to show that you don't have to know a
word to sound it out or count its syllables. The
words I used were "detrimental" and "extraneous",
which I repeated several times in class, until one kid
put up his hand and asked "Teacher, what's
excremental?"
My girlfriend sends me messages on my phone, and she
keeps making adorable spelling mistakes -- and somehow
her spelling mistakes ALWAYS turn into different
words; they never just turn into nonsense. She spells
message wrong, so she regularly says things like
"thanks for that massage. it made me laugh"
or "i'll send you a massage later"
yesterday she said "I told my mom that you brought me
spaghetti. "She was empressed" (I don't know what the
emperor's wife has to do with my spaghetti OR her mom,
but it make me smile)
and unfortunately, since she'll recieve this letter, I
guess that massage mistake's gonna stop now, but it's
been fun.
so that of course leads to the question "When your
Korean friends' chronic English errors are really
cute, is it still your responsibility to correct
them?" -- one lady at work always says lunch "lonchee"
so that the word lunch almost rhymes with the word
"raunchy" -- and do I need to correct that, when it's
so cute? She's the same one who told me, when I went
to the doctor's, that I have to get lots of lest.
My name regularly becomes lobeuh (which is how Koreans
say "Love" in Konglish), so I'm Love teacher to some
of my kids, and to others, I've told them about the
Lobster nickname, so I have a few kids who won't stop
calling me Lobster, Love, or Robot, which I don't
mind.
Matt's brother Joel is here, and he's cool. And I've
started making spaghetti again, after almost a
two-year hiatus. This is really nice -- it'd been so
long since I'd made spaghetti, it's nice to get back
into practice. Also, especially during a time that's
particularly emotionally challenging, with a
girlfriend who's unavailable because she has to study,
making spaghetti is (I realized) a REALLY comforting
ritual for me. Making it makes me feel almost as good
as eating it. Plus, afterwards, my house smells SO
good afterwards.
Anyway, I should probably go. I'll see some of you
this coming Christmas, and the rest of you in March.
I miss you and I love you, Korea's still good, life
and God are still good -- it just sometimes takes some
looking to find the silver lining. Like when your mom
sends you an e-mail about how "it's getting more
difficult to do everyday things -- I had to take a nap
in the middle of a meeting with some church families"
-- but then, it's also my mom where I take my cues,
and where I learned, to look for a silver lining. I
remember her saying "well, you know, surgery's not an
option, but on the bright side, I get to keep my
stomach and eat food with flavour," and "I try to
think positively -- I've lost a lot of weight, but hey
-- I fit into everything in my closet now! And I
don't snore anymore!"
Way to go, mom. Everybody on this list could learn
from you. I'm not sick -- I'm just staying home from
work to watch movies and sleep. No less than Hamlet
himself said, "there is nothing either good or bad,
but thinking makes it so", and John Milton agreed that
"The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make
heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven." and, to
paraphrase Proverbs 17:1: "Better a dry crust with
peace and quiet than a house full of feasting", I'll
say, "better a sick mom full of love and joy and
wisdom, than a healthy mom who's the subject of all my
trips to the counsellor" I wouldn't trade you for the
world, Mom.
And to all the rest of you:
well, I like you all, quite a bit, too.
God Bless
Rob
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