I think it is a picture of Francis in his school uniform. I’m sending the front of the picture and the back that has something written in Korean.
I sent this photo to Francis already but I thought you may like to take a look. It was taken in Tijuana, Mexico during my freshmen year at Berkeley. Francis wanted to eat authentic Mexican food and bought something from a food cart vendor. He kept enticing us with smacking and yum-yum noises as he ate.
Then that night he was visited by Montezuma’s revenge.
I wrote about voting in a historic election eight years ago. Since then, California has become more blue, there are even more political fliers, and the only thing the left wing can seem to agree with the CAGOP on is what this state needs is even more propositions on the ballot.
Even though, back then, I strongly suspected I’d be casting this vote eight years later for Hillary Clinton, I didn’t realize how this day would hit me.
Marie got dressed in a pantsuit and we walked across the street to the community center to vote. Unlike me, she was homeschooled as a Christian conservative and voted for George W. Bush in 2004—her vote is more meaningful than mine.
But my vote wasn’t mine, it was Mom’s—not to celebrate or affirm women’s right to vote or anything like that, but because I love her, she always admired Hillary Rodham, and, most importantly, because she only would go to the polls to cancel out Dad’s vote. 😉
Not this time! I called Dad yesterday and he said he’s with her—quite possibly his first vote for a Democratic candidate for President of the United States, definitely his first vote for a woman for that position.
I started blogging with the purpose to “write to create context for another to think” just after argument with my father about politics in 2004. He said:
“Nobody said democracy is perfect. It’s just the best thing we’ve got. Terry, maybe you’re right, and I’m wrong. But if you are, then have some faith in our system that the truths will come out. Have some faith that people can change. They just don’t have to change on your timetable.”
I honestly never thought Dad would change. But my father, with his vote with mom now, and a lifetime of past votes against, finally won an argument with “mom’s lawyer”: I have faith, and people can change.
No matter the outcome, this election reaffirms that faith in the conversation that is our democracy.
I don’t care who you support, if you can vote, Vote!
Ever since Marie wanted to learn to program in 2009, I’ve wanted to write a book to help her. But I never could get started.
I first heard about it in 2007, when I started using Scrivener, but dismissed it because the requirement that a novel be fiction. I only just found about NaNo Rebels, which allows you to customize the “50,000 words” into nearly any other creative exercise, including non-fiction. So yesterday, this was born:
I don’t know if I can finish since it’s about a good sized blog article each and every day. We’ll see how it goes. So far it’s been a bit strange writing a book. For instance, I can’t use my WordPress shortcode macros lest I ruin the word count.
Periodically, I’ll dump the output to my blog, which you can track here. Wish me luck!
If you want to buddy up, I’m “tychay” there.
Here is family photo sans Aboji. I sent you this photo of us in our Seoul house in 1954. We had a large spacious house with tatami mats, heated floors and a large yard with a garden. Surrounding it was a cement wall for privacy. The back of the photo gives our names and ages. (The ages are Korean ages, meaning it is one year older than it is here in the western world).
It’s a page from the Alumni magazine
The attached photo is of us at Kimpo airport waiting to board a flight to the USA. We all look miserable and sad because we are leaving life as we knew it back then. I remember the propeller plane, so loud. I remember waking up from a nap on the loud plane and heard my siblings talking to each other — hard for me to believe because they hadn’t spoken to each other for more than a year (and used me as a messenger when they needed to communicate).
Here is a photo of the two cousins (Terry and Tammy) with Teresa and Seung
I got that sweater on a vacation to New Orleans when I was in grade school. I remember my father taking us down Bourbon Street and afterward my dad teasing my brother for “tripping all over himself.” I myself wondered why all the people in the posters there were wearing black tape for clothing.
“Did you like the book you bought?”
“Well, when Sarkan gets…”
“Whoa! you’re not going to spoil it for me, are you?”
“Because I might want to read it.”
The next day, she left the novel on my nightstand.
Here are your mom and dad’s wedding pictures. There were a couple of others that were damaged because they were attached to the album pages with scotch tape.