Winding it down…

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One week left to go in this segment of my Korean life.  It’s been a nice stay.  Reconnected with some good friends, ate lots of good Korean food, had a great time playing darts, and drank plenty of OB beer.

Still on tap is a big dart tourney on Saturday, the dart league championship on Monday, and I reckon we’ll slip in a few more grilled meat meals between now and Incheon.

One of my accomplishments, if you can call it that, has been to finally accept and embrace this life of unemployment.  It’s been 18 months since retirement and I’ve struggled to find meaning and purpose in my life.  I still haven’t found any, but I’m embracing the freedom of workin’ at nothing all day.

I also wanted to get my dart game back and I’ve pretty much done that.  I wound up ranked 5th in “B” division, which I suppose is just about right given my general inconsistency.  I’ve hit some good marks, including a couple ton-80s, and won 2 of every 3 legs I threw, so yeah, I’m satisfied.

It’s always sad to leave this country I’ve come to love, but I’m also looking forward to a taste of my American life, which includes my kids and grandchildren.   Not to mention on-demand television.

It’s interesting to live part time in two countries.  It’s also easy to feel like you are always in between two lives, never quite being a part of either.  I’m working on that though.

Remembering Private First Class Frank D. Foltz

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My Great Uncle Frank occupies the small piece of ground in Hamm, Luxembourg pictured above. He was the brother of my Grandmother Pernie, and she spoke about him frequently enough when I was growing up that I still recall his story. My brother Keith who is the keeper of family history also reminded me of a few details of Uncle Frank’s life.

Frank Daniel Foltz was born on the family farm in Goltry, Oklahoma on August 25, 1910. He was the youngest son and the 11th child of John and Mary Foltz. He was just a little more than six years old when his mother died, but by all accounts, he grew up to be a fine man. Handsome and good natured, he was a star athlete in high school, especially in baseball.

Frank was married with a young son and working as a Railway Mail Clerk when he was drafted into the Army in 1944. He was trained as a mechanic and shipped out to England in December of 1944. When General George S. Patton was making his great push into Germany he called for “men, more men, more men!”. Frank was deployed to the 3rd Army as a replacement and on March 3, 1945 was killed by a German sniper, just a few short weeks before the war was to end.

Grandma Pernie was a good Christian woman with love in heart and forgiveness for all–except she could never quite bring herself to forgive “Blood and Guts” Patton. As she was wont to say–“Patton’s guts, Frank’s blood”. Of course, this was unfair, soldiers in war get killed, that’s just the way it is. Frank was just unlucky. He had been deferred from the draft for most of the war because of his job and child. When manpower shortages necessitated expanding the draft, he was taken at the relatively old age of 34 (the maximum was 38). But mostly I think he was unlucky because he had the misfortune of being a “replacement” troop, a group that suffered a notoriously high casualty rate.  As Army historian Rich Anderson noted:

“At the other end of the replacement pipeline, replacements were trained by replacement centers (or stripped from divisions), shipped as anonymous replacement increments to a theater of war, and held at the repple-depple until needed by units. These men were military orphans with little esprit de corps and no cohesion. Many thought of themselves as replaceable parts in the giant army “machine,” or as rounds of ammunition. The sole virtue of this system was that it allowed divisions to stay in near continuous combat for days on end, theoretically without eroding their numerical strength. As casualties left, replacements came in. However, the reality became that replacements came in, and with no combat experience and no one in their new unit looking out for them (the “I don’t know him and don’t want to know him, he’s only gonna be a casualty” syndrome), they quickly became casualties.”

So, that’s Uncle Frank’s story. Just one of the 416,800 Americans killed in action during World War II. But on this day we set aside to remember all the men and women who have answered the call to duty and made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of our nation, I wanted to honor his memory.

Thank you for your service.

And he’s one more arrow, flying through the air

One more arrow landing in a shady spot somewhere

Where the days and nights blend into one

And he can always feel the sun

Through the soft brown earth that holds him

Forever always young.

That’s close enough to perfect for me

I had a good Friday (ahem) but yesterday was really special.

It started with the mid-season dart tourney at Dillinger’s Bar in Itaewon.  I had the good fortune to draw Sam Heyward as my partner and to also throw a tad better than I usually do.  We had the misfortune to face Paul Winterburn and his partner who were pretty much unstoppable.  They knocked us out of the winner’s bracket but we fought our way back to face them in the finals.  Alas, we came up short and had to “settle” for second place money (W180,000).

I did have the pleasure of throwing a ton-80 for the tourney high which was good for another W20,000.  It was just a tiny bit sweeter because it topped Paul’s ton-50.  Paul got his revenge I suppose by beating me in the high mark shootout.

But the bottom line is I had a great time throwing against some outstanding players, hanging with some friends, and of course being cheered on by my number 1 fan Jee Yeun.

And that’s not all!

After darts we (the Werner’s, the Scheepstra’s me and my sweetie) went out in search of some food to mix with the copious amount of beers previously consumed.  The tables in the galbi house we prefer were full and none of us felt like sitting on the floor (I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to get back up).  So, we tried a new to us back alley barbecue joint and enjoyed some galbi, samgyapsal, ukgaejang, daenjangigae and the traditional sides.  Which we washed down with chungha and more beer of course.

The dinner table conversation (of what I remember) is not fit for recitation here.  Suffice to say the Werner’s were in classic form, Lonnie was instigating, Jee Yeun was telling tales out of school, and Jaime was quietly pondering what the hell she had got herself into.  In other words, we laughed our asses off.

But wait, there’s more!

After dinner, we trekked over to the local norebang to flex our vocal chords and butcher some popular songs.  I opened with the classic Bee Gees tune “I started a joke” and scored a perfect 100.  This, for some unknown reason, sent my counterparts into fits, screaming such nonsense as the “fix was in”, “no way” and “you’ve gotta be kidding me”.  (I was drunk, but I never forget an insult!)  Suffice to say, NO ONE sings the Bee Gees quite the way I do.

Anyway, for the rest of the evening the group tried in vain to beat that first 100 (heck, even I couldn’t replicate it).  Jaime came close with a 98 on a sweet Korean song.  Bridget and I were robbed on “Knock three times” (I know, I know.  But Bridget loves Tony Orlando and Dawn).  Lonnie and Chris were certain they’d hit it with the evenings final song “Hotel Califorinia”, but alas, they too fell short.

Oh, and we drank more beers.

Then we all managed to catch taxi’s with surprising ease and an almost perfect day (damn you Paul) came to an end.

Happy Easter!

Of running machines and egg burgers…

So, courtesy of a kind friend I scored some comfort foods from the commissary, including hamburger patties.

And the first thing I asked Jee Yeun to make me was one of her famous “eggaburgers”.

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You got your 1/3 pound hamburger patty, a fried egg, lettuce, ketchup, and cucumber on toast.  I first experienced this treat one drunken night from a street vendor in Itaewon.  Good as it was, no one makes an eggaburger quite like Jee Yeun’s.

I guess the irony is that I was enjoying this delicacy immediately after getting doctor’s orders to lose weight.  Since it doesn’t appear the diet part of the equation is likely to succeed, Jee Yeun called a second hand store in Uijongbu about a treadmill.  Actually, she calls it a “running machine”.  I don’t know if that is a literal translation from the Korean or just a “Jee Yeun-ism”, but it always cracks me up.  So, the store has three for us to choose from and we make plans to go up for a looksee today.

Last night Jee Yeun’s mom came by for a visit.  Now, we live on the 5th floor.  There are two elevators, one stops on even floors, the other odd.  For some reason Oma decided to go the the 6th floor and walk down.  And on the 6th floor landing she spots a perfectly good treadmill running machine just sitting there looking for a home.  So, Oma comes in all excited and Jee Yeun gets equally excited, makes me turn off the TV (Band of Brothers, D-Day episode) and go have a look.

Well, like I say, it looks perfectly fine but there’s still the question of ownership.  Jee Yeun puts a note on it and goes downstairs to ask the security guard.  The guard says the people in #608 didn’t have room for it and he’d be happy to see it moved out of the vestibule.  Jee Yeun confirms with the folks in #608 that the treadmill is in working condition and that we can take possession.

That turned out to be the easy part.  Because of course we still had to get this contraption from the sixth floor into our fifth floor apartment.  Now generally speaking when folks move big heavy furniture (or running machines) into high rise apartments, they bring it in through the window using one of these:

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A furniture escalator not being an option, Jung bae (Jee Yeun’s daughter’s boyfriend) and I managed to wrestle the treadmill down the flight of stairs (technically two half flights, but who’s counting?) and park it at the entrance to our apartment.  That’s another thing about Korean apartments, the front doors aren’t very wide.  Which I guess is why they use the window, duh.  Well, we tried every which way to maneuver the damn thing through the door, but like OJ’s glove, it just didn’t fit.

I had two thoughts at this point–an understanding that when the folks in #608 said they didn’t have room for the treadmill they must have meant they didn’t have room to get it through the door.  And that paying to have a treadmill from Uijongbu delivered was looking like the best possible option.

Koreans love a bargain, and Jee Yeun and her mom were not about to let this freebee get away.  So Jung bae (bless his heart) removed all the screws holding the control panel in place (I supervised, which is consistent with my professional training).  Screws removed, it still took some yanking, pulling, prying and possibly breaking to get the top removed.  Once more we tried every which way to get it through the door.  It almost fit this time, but we still needed another half inch (or its metric equivalent) clearance.  Damn.

Looking back on it, it was kinda comical I suppose.  My Korean is about as good as Dong bae’s English.  In her excitement and frustration, Jee Yeun wasn’t being much help as a translator.   But in the end I was able to get across that maybe removing the motor cover would free up enough space to make it through the door.  I’m not that brilliant really,  it was just the last f’n piece that could be removed without a blow torch.  And yes, with the cover off we were able to just squeeze it through the door.

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Ain’t she a beauty?  A bargain at half the price.  Just looking at it I can feel the pounds melting away.  That’s how it works, right?

A trip to the grocery store Korean style

Carrying on with the theme of the same yet different, here’s a little photo essay of our visit to the neighborhood food market. Get More Information by visiting this store to get a wonderful experience.

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The market is conveniently located across the highway from our apartment.  It’s an easy enough walk even on a cold day.  Like many large businesses in Korea, it’s on the basement level. You can check out smartfoundationsystems.com to repair and upgrade your basement. The ramp instead of stairs is a nice touch though.

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Not exactly your Publix or Kroger layout, but if you look around you can usually find most of what you need…

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…like the recently dead fresh fish on ice.  We didn’t buy any this week, but Jee Yeun will be frying some up one of these days soon I’m sure.

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To the left is your dairy and sort of deli, although nothing that you’d expect to find in a deli back home.  To the right is stuff like snacks and dry goods.  Dry goods including seaweed of course.

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The meat counter.  Beef is especially expensive in Korea and we rarely partake here.  Pork and chicken is how we swing.

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Pork or chicken goes down good with a refreshing Korean brew.  You don’t often see cases of beer or even six packs.  Quarts and individual cans are more in keeping with the Korean style of pouring and sharing…

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Semi-familiar breakfast cereals.  I’ve tried the Frosted Flakes and I think Tony is saying “they may not be Great but they’re still pretty darn good”.  Or something.

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Paying the piper.  Those groceries plus a 20kg bag of rice cost me about 120 bucks…

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The part I like best about Korean grocery shopping is the free delivery right to your doorstep!

And now you too have experienced grocery shopping in Korea…

On the water

Had a great start to the new year visiting my seafaring friends Rod and Patty Headlee.

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They purchased this 43′ sailboat in Annapolis, MD and were completing refitting at the time of our visit in New Bern, NC.

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Ain’t she a beauty?

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I believe the name Second Chance derives from the fact this boat originally manufactured in 1969 has been completely refurbished and made seaworthy for her new life as home to Rod and Pat in whatever location the winds of fancy may carry them.

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This is the forward stateroom where me and Jee Yeun spent the night.  A little cramped but comfortable.  We were rocked to sleep by the gentle motion of the marina waves and serenaded by the singing of a stiff breeze through the rigging wire.  A slightly larger stateroom aft is where Rod and Pat quarter.

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The head.  It’s operation was just complicated enough that I’d usually make my way out to the marina lavatory. There is also a small shower to the left which went unused during our visit.

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The dining area featuring Sebastian the seagoing cat.  Notice the net full of snacks hanging above.  The boat was provisioned for several weeks of sea travel, so every nook and cranny was filled with the necessities for a self-contained life.

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The galley featured a stove with oven and a bread maker…

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It takes a big man to admit that he is probably not “right sized” for long term living at sea on a sailboat.

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No TV on board but we did enjoy a little live music.

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We trekked into New Bern where Jee Yeun made a beary nice friend…

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Rod bought some supplies at this old fashioned hardware store.  A much more pleasant experience than shopping at Home Depot, that’s for sure.

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We lunched at this popular local eatery and then said our farewells.  Rod had been closely monitoring the weather for a good 3 day window to make it down to Florida.  The seas can be treacherous off Cape Fear this time of year.  The had hoped to be in warmer waters by October but the refitting took longer than anticipated.  They plan to spend a month in the Bahamas and after that probably the west coast of Mexico.  Their home port is Los Angeles, but they really love being in the South Pacific, spending a lot of time in Pago Pago and American Samoa.

I really respect their success in living the life of their dreams.  I do not envy that lifestyle however.  A life at sea is really hard work.  When sailing, someone must always stand watch.  And maintaining the boat and it’s critical components is a never ending  chore.  I guess I prefer a life of sloth ease.  Now, we might fly in to visit them in some exotic port of call, but from my perspective, sailing in a little boat in a big ocean is more scary than romantic.

On the drive home, we spent the night in North Myrtle Beach.  Winter is the best time of year at the beach in my opinion, mostly because I had crowds.

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America’s East Sea as viewed from our crappy (but $40 per night) ocean front room.

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Jee Yeun enjoys her coffee and the Carolina sea grass.

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The temperature was right at freezing and there was a cutting ocean breeze that chilled to the bone.  It was so cold that the seagulls flocked around Jee Yeun trying to keep warm.

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But there is something to be said for the solitude of the oceanfront in winter.

Into the great wide open

So, the end of 2011 is upon us.  It was not a good one for the McCrarey clan.  My mother and father both passed away, and earlier this month, so did their loyal dog entrusted to my care.  I also dealt with the transition to retired life and the surprisingly difficult task of adjusting to living in the USA after six mostly wonderful years in The Land of the Morning Calm.  On the plus side, a beautiful granddaughter (Sydney Renee) joined the family.  And so of course, the circle of life continues.

Today I completed the surprisingly extensive paperwork associated with an application for a fiancee visa so that my sweetheart Jee Yeun can stay with me wherever I’m living.  I checked the hours for my local post office and confirmed they stayed open until 2:00 p.m.  It’s funny, I’ve procrastinated for weeks on getting the visa application together but once done, I wanted it out in today’s mail, by god!  So, I arrived at the post before 1 o’clock only to discover they closed at noon for the holiday.  And there was no wind, rain, heat or snow to delay those postal people from their appointed rounds.

Not to be deterred, I drove on in to the Main Post Office in downtown Columbia.  Much to my chagrin, I discovered that that office does not open at all on Saturday, and especially not on New Year’s Eve Saturday.  So, I dropped my envelope in the collection box out front which promised a 3:00 p.m. collection.  Whether or not that’s true, my mission was accomplished.

And then a question came to mind.  If by some magic you could be shown your future life, would you want to view it?

Now I know that is not a unique or profound thought.  But what prompted the question was looking up at that fourth floor office I occupied from 1986 through 1993 when I was working for the Postal Service.  Back in those days I’d sometimes gaze out my window and watch the happenings on Assembly Street, the major thoroughfare in my adopted Southern city.    I saw Pope Paul, President Bush the First, and Governor Campbell motorcade by, but mostly it was just the hustle and bustle of the ordinary citizenry going about the business of what I presumed were their ordinary lives.

And today I wondered what would the me of back then have thought upon seeing the me of today mailing a letter of such importance and yet its contents were beyond my wildest imaginings just a few short years ago.   I hope I would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Despite all the hopes and dreams and best laid plans, we are after all destined to live in the moment.  I never envisioned this life that I’ve lived turning out as it did.  The detours and heartbreaks and disappointments all inevitably led me back to this place, but changed me almost completely from who that man looking down from the window way back then.  And I don’t just mean those extra pounds around my belly.  All those experiences that I never planned for, dreamed about, or even knew that I desired have not necessarily made me better, and I certainly hope not worse.  But this is who I have become, and I am glad for it.

I’m not going to answer my own question directly because I don’t know if someone had shown me the road ahead back then that I would have had the courage to follow it.

So, I am looking forward to the new year.  And I know that there are things I’d like to see and do.  But I’m thinking I’ll just take it a day at time and see what happens.  Doing it that way has worked pretty well for me so far I suppose.

Speaking of plans (and proving my point), I was going to take Jee Yeun out to Myrtle Beach for a little R&R to start the New Year.  And tonight I get a phone call from my old (aren’t we all?) high school friends Rod and Pat Headlee.  For the past few years they’ve been living on a sailboat and traveling the world, mostly in the South Pacific.  They bought a new boat in Annapolis, and after outfitting it so they can sail to warmer climes, they are heading south.  Their journey has begun with the Intercoastal Waterway and they are currently docked in New Bern, North Carolina.  Which as fate would have it is where we are going to be tomorrow instead of Myrtle Beach.

You just never know what’s in store, do you?  I guess that’s the way I like it.

Happy New Year everyone!

Swampland

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So, the day after Christmas dawned sunny and warm (low 50s) so I decided to take the GF out for a visit to South Carolina’s only National Park.  Congaree National Park is only about 30 minutes from Columbia, so let’s go!

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What they call “old growth bottomland hardwood forest” is actually swampland.  Now, when the trees are in their summertime glory they form a beautiful natural canopy over the forest floor.  And a perfect breeding ground for pesky mosquitoes.  The wintertime advantage is as shown above.

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There are numerous hiking trails throughout the park but we opted for the very easy 2.5 mile boardwalk loop.

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According to the park brochure, the lush trees growing in this floodplain forest are some of the tallest in the hardwoods in the world.

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Of course, they didn’t look to “lush” on December 26.  But they were tall.  Now, I have seen the Sequoias in the Sierra Nevada, so when you are talking big, everything is relative.  I recall that when I first moved to the South I sent a friend a postcard of the Smoky Mountains.  She wrote back and said “you call those mountains?  Folks sure do exaggerate back there!”

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Bottomland.

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Jee Yeun enjoys the view at Watson Lake.

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Two and a half miles was about all I had in me on this fine winter’s day.

And so ends this tale.

Finished with engines

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My father died today.  He spent the better part of his life as an engineer with the Merchant Marine.  It is a maritime tradition that when a member of the engine department passes away he is said to be “finished with engines”.

My father had been in failing health for some time but if pressed to identify the cause of death I’d have to say he died of a broken heart.  Losing mom after 61 years of marriage took both an emotional and physical toll.  I think he survived as long as he did so he could be there to take care of mom.  Without her his life lost meaning and purpose.

He was 83 years old and by any account he lived a long, and often hard, life.  He was nothing if not strong willed.  His passing was inevitable but I was surprised by how quickly he went in the end.  I believe he just decided it was time to go, so he went.  By all accounts it was a peaceful and easy departure.  Perhaps that’s the best any of us can hope for.

His desire was to have his body donated to the medical university.  After jumping through some bureaucratic hoops today we were able to make that happen.  Dad was always generous in his own quiet way and certainly wouldn’t want a big deal made of his parting gift.  And he made it very clear that a big funeral was not for him.  So I hope this simple tribute will suffice to do justice to his memory.

Dad, you were an amazing man and truly one of a kind.  You’ll be missed by all who knew and loved you.

My father was a lover of poetry and some of my earliest memories are of him sitting in his easy chair reading his favorite poems out loud to us kids.  And I distinctly remember him reciting this one on some long ago day:

Under the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me;
“Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.”
 

–“Requiem” Robert Louis Stevenson

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Hanging on by a thread

No, the blog is not dead, on life support perhaps, but not dead.

The fact of the matter is that I just don’t have anything much of interest going on these days.  And what little I’ve had to say, I’ve said on Facebook.

I’ve pretty much finished all the major house projects (or at least I have exhausted all my discretionary funds).  And I’ve got a nice, comfortable place to call home.  Best of all, it’s paid for.  In this economy, that’s better than money in bank.  Or so at least I keep telling myself.

My dad has some pretty serious health issues.  He has a condition called temporal arteritis which has caused him to lose vision in one eye and impaired the vision in the other.  It appeared for awhile he may go completely blind, but six days in the hospital for intravenous steroid treatment seems to have stopped the progression of symptoms.  He’s extremely weak and unstable however, so I make daily visits, do his shopping, and drive him to his doctor appointments.

I’m still playing darts twice a week and I’m throwing about as well as I ever have.  Which is not great, but I don’t have the frustration that comes from under-performing.  Darts is really the extent of my social life, and it’s something I look forward to each week.

Had a visit from some old friends from high school, Rod and Pat Headlee.  Our paths seem to cross every few years and we get the chance to catch up on what’s happening and reminisce about the glory days.  I must admit that their life is much more interesting than mine.  They live on a 42′ sailboat and regularly travel the big water to exotic locations, mostly in the South Pacific.  They had some really amazing stories about their adventures.  We have a standing invite to join them on the boat for one of their journeys.  Truth be told, I can see myself meeting them in Pago Pago and doing some day trips around the islands but I’m not sure I’m up for a blue water excursion.  We’ll see.

Jee Yeun seems to be adapting well to life in America.  Although she’s a big city girl at heart, and as far as cities go, Columbia is a burg compared to Seoul.  She’s a trooper though.  She’s been out digging in the back yard for the past couple of days removing weeds and such.  I think she must enjoy it, but she did tell me the other day that she hadn’t planned on becoming a farmer when she moved to the USA.

I’ve also enjoyed getting to see the kids and grandkids on a semi-regular basis.  And I have a new granddaughter in the hatch, which will be my son’s first child.  She’ll be born right about the time I get back from Korea.

I’m really looking forward to spending the summer back in the Land of the Morning Calm.  Jee Yeun says I miss Korea more than her.  Maybe that’s true.  I miss my friends and the lifestyle, that’s for sure.  Of course, I recognize that things will be different when I return.  Life moves forward and things change and all that.  But I’m nothing if not adaptable, so I’m not too worried.

I think my biggest fear about returning to America was getting sucked in.  By that I mean, falling into a quiet routine and living a vanilla life.  I’ve been consciously resisting that, but I’m probably at least half way there.  But I’m not going down without a fight!

See?  I warned you I had nothing much to say.  And I said it anyway.

A funeral. A birthday. A baby.

What a week.  Drove 1145 miles to Enid, Oklahoma so my mom could be buried in the family plot near her mother.  Actually, she was buried in Goltry, a small and sad outpost on the windswept and desolate Oklahoma panhandle.  I believe if you look up the word depressing in the dictionary you can see a picture of Goltry.

The day of the funeral was windy (as I expect everyday in that godforsaken land must be) and bitterly cold.  Mom wanted a simple graveside service and that is what she got.  My Aunt Pat (of fruit salad fame) led the service and the grandkids present each gave a moving tribute as to what Grandma Bonnie had meant in their lives.  Tears were shed and then it was done.

Well, we had a family gathering at the Western Sizzlin’ (apparently one of the finer dining establishments in Enid) and then those of us who were so inclined retired to the Ramada Inn bar.  The eight of us then proceeded to wash away our sorrow (at least temporarily) through massive quantities of beer and various other alcoholic beverages.

My nephew Jason and his wife Rosie brought out a guitar and sang “Upward Over the Mountain” in honor of my mom. It was an incredibly beautiful song and an appropriately moving moment that seemed to give each of some measure of closure.  I know mom would have loved it.

By unfortunate coincidence, the funeral day was also daughter-in-law Lauren’s birthday.  We did a toast in her honor.  Although Lauren was toasting us with fruit juice.  Because she found out that morning that she was pregnant with my son’s first child.  Apparently after quite some time trying.

Kevin revealed that in one of his final conversations with mom she had asked him to promise to take his son to church on Sundays.  He told her “grandma, I don’t have a son”.  She said “just promise”.

Renee is convinced that the first thing mom did in heaven was to pull some strings.  I don’t know about that.  But it was a day of days for sure and I wouldn’t put anything past my mom.

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All you need is love

The nearest friends can go
With anyone to death, comes so far short
They might as well not try to go at all.
No, from the time when one is sick to death,
One is alone, and he dies more alone.
Friends make pretense of following to the grave,
But before one is in it, their minds are turned
And making the best of their way back to life
And living people, and things they understand.

–Robert Frost (from Home Burial)

My mother died this morning.  At home, peacefully in her sleep.  These past two weeks had been a struggle for her but she kept on fighting.  It was heartbreaking to watch her fade away each day.  She had stopped eating, drinking, and using her oxygen and become verbally non-communicative.  But until yesterday I could still see her “in there” behind her eyes and there was a spark of recognition when friends and family members came to visit.

The best night occurred last week when her sisters from California were here.  She was surrounded by people who loved her and she seemed to really perk up.  She actually made a little speech about what’s important in life and she said all that matters is love.  Mom told us to always love one another and everyone else we encountered.  When it was done she smiled and said, “well, I guess I gave a sermon”.  Mom was clearly loving having her family with her, that’s for sure.

She deteriorated pretty quickly after that.  She lost the ability to speak, but still would lift her arms and offer hugs to any and all takers.  Later she was reduced to moaning and grunts and all we could do was administer morphine and keep her as comfortable as possible.  She would still make eye contact and I sensed a pleading for help, but there was no help I could provide other than stroking her head.

The last days watching her lie there fighting for breath was heartrending and we could only standby watching her suffering.  This morning we woke to find her at peace at last.

You know, I have always feared dying alone.  So I thought it was a good thing that mom had family around her at the end of her days.  But I also observed that no matter the circumstances, we are all going to die alone.  Mom was physically alive, but she was also already gone to some other unreachable place.  I can only hope it was comfortable and pain free there.

Thanks for all the love you so freely gave me mom.

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A week in the life

Leaving Korea proved to be harder in the end than I imagined it would be.  The New Year’s eve send off was tremendous and I will carry many happy memories of my Korea life wherever the future may lead me.

Had a long but uneventful New Year’s Day flight to the USA.  I was welcomed to America by a Thrifty car rental agent who made a big show of “doing me a favor” by allowing me to actually rent the car I had reserved.  Seems that if I rent a car using a debit card I am required to provide my return flight information.  Which since I have now made South Carolina my home I don’t possess.  She hemmed and hawed and finally made the comment that she would “do me a favor” and rent me the car.  I was tired and hungover and wanted to tell her to go fuck herself but my desire to get out of the airport and on my way overcame the impulse and the transaction was completed.  Her parting shot was “well, I’ve done my good deed for the day!”.  I shook my head and walked away but I was reminded of one of the reasons I’m dreading living in the USA.  Sanctimonious bitch!

I dropped off my bags at the house and went to visit my mom in the hospital.  Not good.  Not good at all.  I was shocked at how much she had deteriorated since my visit in November.  Things were much worse than I imagined and the doctor confirmed that they would not be getting better.  Since there was nothing more to be done medically (congestive heart failure) we were presented with two options–home hospice care or confinement to a nursing home.  We made the obvious choice of allowing her to die at home.

So, a hospital bed was delivered and set up in the living room (ironic name, eh?).  A hospice worker comes five days a week to bathe my mother.  A hospice nurse comes a couple of times a week.  A social worker also appears periodically.  The rest is up to us family members.  I never imagined I’d participate in changing my mother’s diapers, but that’s now part of my daily routine.  I’m doing my best to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as she may have left, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it is nearly enough.

Mom told me she loves me for coming home to her, so there’s that.

I spilled diet coke on my netbook keyboard on a drunken New Year’s morning.  The computer functioned fine except when I typed letters would randomly be numbers and vice-versa, which made logging on with passwords impossible.  Hence the lack of posting here.  I took it in for repairs and got a call yesterday that there was nothing wrong and I could pick it up.  Well, maybe the Vaio has a self-healing feature or I experienced a minor miracle.  Even more bizarrely the repair shop said “no charge”.

I bought a car, bought insurance for said car, and obtained a South Carolina driver’s license.  The last item was was touch and go.  Despite having my passport and birth certificate, the wanted my original social security card.  Well, when it was issued 40 years ago it was just a flimsy business card material that has long since disintegrated.  I didn’t think to bring my last pay stub but then I remembered that I had failed (intentionally) to return my Army ID card.  And since it won’t expire until 22 January and it showed my SSN, I was golden.  All I had to do now was demonstrate proof of residence.  Well, I’m staying with my parents, but my name is on the deed to the house.  In the state’s eyes, that doesn’t prove I live there (valid point, since my name has been on the deed for 6 years, and I’d been here 6 days).  Of course, the utility bills are in Dad’s name so it looked like I was in a classic catch-22 situation.  Then I remembered my proof of insurance certificate showing my living at this address.  Score!  I am now a licensed driver in SC for the second time in my life.

Thursday I drove my nephew Joshua (who had been staying with mom and was a tremendous help) to the airport in Raleigh.  It was an 8 hour round trip, but my new car handled well and provided a comfortable ride.

Jee Yeun has been an angel.  She’s a natural born caregiver and has really done everything possible to make mom comfortable (including pedicures).

Of course, despite our best efforts, mom is not comfortable at all.  She seems to be having an increasing difficulty breathing and she’s miserable staying in bed.  She begs us to let her up, but it is just not possible to move her in her current state of immobility.

I thought for awhile we were going to lose her last night, but she came around.

Her sisters are due in this afternoon and she’s looking forward to that.

And now we are just watching and waiting and hoping her suffering is not too great.

I hate everything about my new life.  And I’m glad to be here.  For whatever that’s worth.

That about sums it up

So, today is my last day at work.  At our team luncheon I’m going to talk about “change” using the Who Moved My Cheese? book as a reference point.  In doing some Google prep, I came upon this blog post which actually captures what I’m feeling these days better than I could ever hope to express.

It’s the inevitable let down at the end of a great adventure.

But I’m going to make sure this is merely the transition time between adventures.  Or go crazy.  One of those.

The end of the road

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Before Government service

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After Government Service.

What a long, strange trip it’s been.

So, today I’m being honored with a retirement luncheon at Hartell House (the CG’s mess).  I’m never all that comfortable being in the spotlight, but these milestones in life seem to demand some ceremony so I’ll make the best of it and be gracious and appreciative.  Since it’s also expected that I make some remarks I’ve been thinking about that as well.  I was going to write down some talking points, but I’ve decided to just wing it instead.  I can’t help but think of it as akin to giving your own eulogy, but I’m going to try and keep it upbeat and hopefully I’ll avoid getting emotional.  Letting go of my job is in some ways like parting with an old friend.  I know it’s time to say goodbye, but that doesn’t make it any easier. 

So, I had some odd jobs here and there, some more steady than others.  But my career in Federal service began on October 27, 1976 when I took the oath of office and became a letter carrier with the United States Postal Service in Anaheim, California.  The starting pay was $5.25 an hour, which wasn’t that good even back then.  The job did have pretty good benefits though, chief among them from my perspective was the ability to retire at age 55. 

Well, here I am 55 years old.  So I guess it could be said that with my retirement I have now achieved the goal I set for myself 34 years ago.  But I did have some fun and some adventures along the way.  I’m not sure there is anything you can say upon reaching the retirement milestone that hasn’t been said before or that isn’t a tired cliché.  But yeah, if life is a journey then your working life is a journey within that journey.  And here’s some of my story. 

Working as a mailman was actually a pretty cool job.  Except for the dogs and supervisors with unreasonable expectations.  I carried pepper spray for the dogs and became a union steward to deal with the supervisors, so it worked out ok I guess.  A couple of years after starting with the Postal Service I could afford to have a second child, and so with some assistance from my then-wife, I acquired a son to complement my daughter. 

Now, back in those days I used to really enjoy getting out of the city for some camping out.  The in-laws owned some property in Arizona that we used for this purpose and the thought occurred that wouldn’t it be great to actually LIVE there.  So, I dropped in for a visit with the Postmaster of Prescott, Arizona and as fate would have he was looking to hire a letter carrier.  So, next thing I knew I was packing up the U-Haul truck and making the big move. 

Living and working in Arizona was like a dream come true.  I bought my first house, became president of the local union, and founded a softball association.  I was living the American dream for sure and figured I was set for life.  Ah, but things do change, don’t they?  They wife and I split up and I found myself with custody of a 5 year old and a 3 year old.  And being a single parent was really, really hard work.  I’d get up a six, feed and dress the kids, drop them at daycare, carry my mail route, pick up the kids, feed and bathe them, collapse in exhaustion, then get up and do it all over again the next day.  After a few months of this routine I cried “uncle!”.  Actually, I cried “mother” as in, mom I need some help. 

Now, my parents had retired to a small hobby farm in Poteau, Oklahoma.  The nearest city of any size was Fort Smith, Arkansas.  And after a meeting with the HR Director, Ms. Bobbie McLaine, my transfer request was approved. You know, there was some culture shock when I first moved here to Korea.  But really not as much as I experienced as a California city boy living in the rural south.  I think the natives were as wary of me as I was of them, and the first year there was the loneliest of my life.  Everyday I would berate myself as I shouldered my mail satchel and walked my route in stifling heat and humidity.  I considered moving to Arkansas the absolute worst mistake I had ever made. The kids were thriving though having quickly adjusted to life on the farm.  

So, I made it through that first summer.  And as bad as an Arkansas summer was, the winter was worse.  I was now spending my days walking up and down icy pathways and porch steps.  And falling on my ass with alarming frequency.  Even when the weather was good, the work had become routine and mind-numbingly boring. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine myself carrying the mail until I reached retirement eligibility. And so I started applying for some management jobs.  Of course, I wasn’t really qualified for anything but that didn’t stop me.  There was a job open in the safety office and I figured anyone could do that!  So, one day Bobbie McLaine, the HR Director came down to the workroom and asked me if I wanted to ride with her to a scheduled labor-management meeting in Fayetteville.  Seeing as how I was a union official and I didn’t want to be viewed as sucking up to management, I declined her offer.  A little later, Dixie (the HR Director’s secretary) came to see me and she said “John, don’t you want that safety job?  Bobbie wanted you to ride with her so she could talk with you about the job”.  Oops!  Well, I made sure I was seated next to Bobbie at lunch.  And I got the job! 

Here’s the thing about Fort Smith–it was a pretty small pond.  Which made it pretty easy to be a big fish.  In addition to safety, I was soon tasked with being the labor relations representative.  And then I took on the responsibilities of being the Public Affairs Officer.  And pretty much anything else that needed to be done when there wasn’t a body to do it.  You really learn a lot that way and I seemed to have a knack for getting it right, at least most of the time. 

Now, I’ll confess to having an ego.  And I got thinking I just might need a slightly larger pond to hold it.  Of all my duties, I enjoyed labor relations the most so I started applying for every vacancy I could find.  I finally scored an interview in Charleston, South Carolina.  So, I flew out there and found the city quite charming and to my liking.  I thought I handled the interview well and afterwards one of the panel members, Jack Mabe, asked to speak with me.  He said I have your application for a job on my staff in Columbia and I’d like to interview you for that while you are here.  Naturally, I agreed. 

Now, I didn’t have any “real” LR experience other than the ad hoc stuff I was doing in Fort Smith and my union background.   The Charleston job was a small step up, but the Columbia job would constitute a huge promotion.  The interview with Jack didn’t take long–ever done an arbitration?  No.  How about an EEO case?  No.  What about MSPB?  I didn’t even know what that was.  He then asked a final question–which job would I prefer, Charleston or Columbia.  Well, what could I say?  I told him that I really liked Charleston and I thought that with my level of experience it was a better fit.  He thanked me and I left. When I made it back to my office in Fort Smith there was a message from Jack Mabe offering me the job in Columbia.  I accepted and moved to a city I had never seen.  I asked Jack later why he picked me and he said because you didn’t know anything so you wouldn’t have to unlearn any bad habits. 

Well, I was definitely way in over my head those first few months in Columbia.  But Jack was a great mentor and I learned how to do things his way which as it so happens was also the right way.  I gained confidence and competence and starting having enough success that I was getting noticed by some higher ups.  This led to an opportunity to be detailed as the Director of HR in Roanoke, VA and to doing some arbitration’s for areas outside of Columbia. 

And then came a major Postal Service reorganization.  One of those downsizing efforts to remove unneeded layers of management that seem to take place in organizations every few years.  All I was told for sure was that my Columbia job would no longer exist and that hopefully “something” would be found for me somewhere.  It was a tough time that drug on for several tortuous months.  In the end I wound up with a promotion working for the newly created Mid-Atlantic Area (one of 10 reporting directly to USPS HQ).  The best part was I could remain in Columbia because the job was traveling throughout the mid-Atlantic states doing arbitration, EEO and MSPB hearings! 

It was my dream job.  I was on the road 3 weeks out of the month, but in those days air travel was not such a bitch.  I really liked being the hired gun that came into town to handle the toughest cases.  And I won enough of them to gain a reputation for excellence.  I did this for several years and then my boss, Barry Swinehart, got promoted to the Area Director of HR.  He said he hoped I’d be applying for his old job as the Area LR manager.  I told him I already had the perfect job and lived in a perfect city and that I had no interest in living in the DC area (Arlington, VA).  Later he asked me to at least come up for a detail in the job.  I again declined. 

Then one day he called and said “John, I need you to do me a favor”.  Well, I know enough to know that when your boss says that, he ain’t asking.  And so I became the Mid-Atlantic Area Manager of Labor Relations.  It was the biggest job I ever had.  Responsible for 80,000 employees in 7 states (and DC).  Six people working for me and four angry postal unions on my ass every day.  

There was never a quiet moment and I worked long hours.  But it was a challenge and I think it really helped me learn a lot about leadership.  Or maybe I just got lucky and hired good people to work for me.  Either way, I enjoyed a fair amount of success and I was slotted into the Executive Development Program.  I was at the top of my game and the sky was limit. 

Or not.  I’ve never been much for playing politics.  And when HQ came out with some dumb-ass policy or program, I expressed my opinion accordingly.  Suffice to say I did not endear myself to the HQ VP for Labor Relations.  And then Barry Swinehart retired.  And I was deemed “not ready” to be his successor in the Postal Executive Service.  So, I took a detail assignment as the Director of HR in Little Rock, Arkansas.  It was a little like going home again and I did enjoy my time there.  I was offered the job on a permanent basis, but I decided my future lay elsewhere.  So, I took a job with the U.S. Department of Education. 

The ED is the smallest of the cabinet level Departments with just over 5,000 employees.  I was the number 2 in LR there.  I had a fraction of my previous responsibilities but a 25% pay increase, so I went for the money.  And spent four years being bored out of my mind.  Oh there were moments when I engaged in massive battles with the union on the size of cubicles (I’m not kidding!), but otherwise I was phoning it in. 

Turns out money is not everything.  I started applying for jobs that would get me out of DC and the DC mindset.  I was hoping for a job in Iraq but the Corps of Engineers apparently weren’t looking for old fat guys at the time.  I did get an offer from the Eighth Army in Korea and I jumped on it!  I had no clue what I was in for but it turned out to be the best place I’ve ever worked or lived.  You can read six years of Long Time Gone archives if you want to relive my adventures here, but I wouldn’t recommend it. 

And so this is where my career journey will end on December 31.  It was an incredible ride.  And although I might have done some things differently, I wouldn’t change a thing.  If you get my meaning.  Anyway, I’d best be getting ready to do my retirement gig.   

Memories of Korea (part 1)

Some random photos from my Korea life:

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Itaewon, January 2005.

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3 Alley Pub, December 2006.

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Corine is honored by LTG Valcourt with a Distinguished Civilian Service Award.

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My coworkers…

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Yongsan Garrison cherry blossoms..

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Haeundae Beach Busan.
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Traditional Palace Guard

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Dart mentors Petro, Tom and Duke.  They’ve all preceded me in returning to the USA.

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Bad ass gatekeeper protecting DMZ visitors.

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“Dorothy” from the Korean version of the Wizard of Oz.

I figure 10 pictures at a time is enough.  More to come though…

In my mind I’m gone to Carolina

But I’m leaving a big part of me here in Korea.

This is my last month in the land of the morning calm.  I’m retiring on 31 December and moving on, at least for awhile.

They say nothing ever goes as planned.  And they would be right about that.

I might be back be to Korea one day.  Probably best not to plan on it though.  Wouldn’t want “they” to mess with me again.

Aunt Pat’s “World Famous” Fruit Salad

Back when I was a kid in Southern California we used to always visit Uncle Sam and Aunt Pat up in the foothills of La Crescenta.  What I always loved best about Aunt Pat’s spread was her fruit salad.  No, I don’t mean ambrosia or some other facsimile that folks may think of as a fruit salad.  IMHO, honest-to-goodness fruit salad absolutely MUST have a sour cream base. 

Anyway, for the past 30 years or so I’ve incorporated Aunt Pat’s recipe into my own Thanksgiving holiday tradition.  Folks do seem to enjoy it too.  I call it “world famous” now, because I’ve been serving it up here in Korea to friends and co-workers since 2005 and if the empty bowl is any indication it’s a popular treat.  So, without further adieu, I’m going to put the recipe right here on the internet.

For a Family-size serving:

30 oz can of fruit cocktail

15 oz can of mandarin oranges

1 apple (I prefer granny smith)

3 bananas

5 oz of pecan pieces

3/4 cup coconut

1/2 cup baby marshmellows

16 oz sour cream

open and drain fruit cocktail and manadrin oranges.  cut apple into small chunks.  slice bananas into bite-size pieces.  place them all in a bowl and stir in sour cream until fruit is well covered.  mix in pecans.  add coconut and marshmellows and stir until all are well blended.  add additional coconut and/or marshmellow to sweeten to taste.

Best when chilled for two or three hours before serving.

That’s all there is to it.  Enjoy!

 

Life’s a beach

Well, Labor Day weekend was for me at least.  Nice little road trip to the East Sea of Korea.  Half the fun was getting there.  Let’s ride!

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It’s always sweet to live the hustle bustle of the city behind…

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Once you hit Route 6 you can’t go wrong…

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When you travel through the mountains in Korea, you travel through the mountains.

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You can’t spend much time on the highway without taking a break for some Korean noodles.  Well, I can.  But I’m not Korean.

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Did I mention there were tunnels?

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And some nice two lane blacktop…

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Arrive safely in Gangnuem where we booked a room in this comfortable place for 50,000 Won.

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And enjoyed ocean views like this…

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…and this.

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The room was small but functional and comfortable.

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Sharing the morning coffee with a butterfly…or is that a moth?

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A rainy morning on the beach was actually quite pleasant…

And now I’m back safe and sound in the city…