It is best
to speak of my personal experience as a part of the
Korean collective as it eliminates any possibility
of a reader viewing my exposition as conjecture. I
became part of the Korean collective identity over
a period of many years where my cancerous egocentric
hedonistic western characteristics were replaced with
altruistic philanthropic characteristics. People of
Korean have a uniquely harmonious system of social
security that is based on society not government.
The social
security of Korean begins with the birth of the first
son; this matter of having a first son is critical
to the integrity of the collective for reason beyond
the scope of this exposition; suffice it to say that
having a first son is so important that a father will
continue to have children until a son is born. The
birth of the first son establishes the essential link
in the system of family and social stability and security.
The first
son is meticulously groomed for the all important
task of being the mediator of the family of his generation.
His job includes making sure that his mother and father
are taken into his home after his marriage the first
son inherits all the property and wealth of the father
by which he insures that his father and mother are
living in his house complete with health care, domestic
employment and finally a ceremonial honorable burial
and funeral rites. There is never a time in Korean
when elderly people with their wealth of life long
learning, skills and talents are relegated to some
kind of faceless government senior citizen rest home;
such a thing would be a disgrace to the entire family
making the ability to function within the greater
social body impossible.
The second
son is given his natural place as a family member
but without any of the inheritance, or responsibility
of the first son. At first this may seem unfair to
some outsiders but it must be known that with the
honor and prestige of being the first son come the
added responsibility of being the care provider for
his parents until their death.
If any
family member fall upon tough times it is the collective
responsibility of the entire family to care for that
family member. An example of this was found when I
was run down by a car which broke my back. In Korean
there is a natural propensity for the person who caused
an injury to care for and insure the health of the
one he injured; however in my case there was a conflict
between my faith and the obligations of the one who
injured me. The man who broke my spine was quick to
seek the immediate help of his extended family for
their honor as a family was at stake before a collective
society. They immediately offered to take me to the
police and to the hospital but my convictions had
taught me that it was important to forgive any and
all who wrong you. It took quite a long time to convince
them I appreciated their offer to help me but I said
that it was okay and I forgave him. At the time I
never knew that the injury would turn into a debilitating
illness that is taking my life. Regardless, even though
this event will take my life in less than a year,
I still forgive him and will not go back on my word.
With a
broken spine the members of Korean heard that I planned
on going back to the United States to get help with
a surgical procedure that was very effective for healing
the injury. I arrived in the US and soon found that
the only place I was welcome was in the icy dark streets
of Anchorage and no hospital would see me unless I
had eighty thousand dollars in hand. With just one
week to find help, I could find none in the United
States and that included the Veteran’s Administration
who had helped me with a false alarm sixteen years
before. I had no place to go and no help to be found.
I called my family in Korean and they said to come
back home and they would help me.
I arrived
back in Korean where my family all worked together
to find a hospital and pay for the expensive surgery
and lengthy hospital stay and the expense of one year
recovery. A year later I flew all the way around the
world to see my blood family and they didn't come
to the air port to meet me nor did they even answer
their phone while I waited in a hotel; again I had
to return to my “real” family in Korean.
Form the
year of my arrival to eleven year later when I departed
Korean, I had met with my family in Korean twice a
year for the three day holidays designated to honor
family integrity, ancestral heritage and social belonging.
I grew close to my family in Korean even though my
skin and eye color was different, they accepted me
as one of the family. I grew close to my father-in-law
and loved his jovial good nature love for family.
I remember the day he was getting ready to leave this
world and how he waited until I arrived before letting
go. I remember the unique burial ceremony when they
took my father-in-laws body out of the coffin on that
cold February day in the cemetery and in traditional
fashion, laid him on two long strips a linen that
was held by four sons of the family and lowered is
body only into the deep burial hole until his body
came to rest at the bottom. The sons on one side of
the grave released the linen strips and the sons of
the opposite site pulled up the strips from under
my father-in-law body.
Starting
with the eldest first son, we each in turn dug a shovel
full of earth and poured it down upon my father-in
laws body, I was near the end of the line of sons
before the grandsons and remember digging up a shovel
full of soil and looking down on my father-in-laws
body poured my shovel full down toward his legs trying
to avoid his face. As the last of the sons poured
their shovel full of earth on the father's body, the
daughters were not permitted to engage in this aspect
of the burial ceremony.
Everyone
stepped off to the side as the spiritual officiator
spoke words in Korean and made gestures toward the
grave as the grave diggers work at a rapid pace filling
the gave with the remaining soil. After the last bit
of earth was heaped on top, my eldest son open a bottle
of expensive raspberry liquor and poured a glass full
laying it at the foot of the grave. He and the family
bowed our heads and prayed. After the prayer the eldest
son (my brother-in-law) lifted the glass of raspberry
wine and splashed it on the left side of the grave
then on the right side and finally in the middle of
the pile of earth that covered my father-in-laws body.
Right
after that we all began to file from the grave site
down toward the parking lot where the cars waited.
As I was getting ready to walk down the hill, the
priest grabbed by arm to stop me; without a word with
one hand holding my sleeve he looked back toward the
grave stone at he head of the grave of pointed with
his other hand. I looked at what he was point at and
it was what was written on the shinny black grave
stone; there engraved in the stone that over looked
the East China Sea was my father-in-laws mane in large
Korean letters, then the priest looked back at me
and motioned once again carefully at the stone and
there I could finally see it; right under my father-in-laws
name I saw my name engraved in the stone. There below
my father-in-laws name in accordance with an ancient
traditions of Korean unknown to the minds of western
people, was my father-in-laws name below which were
the names of all the sons be they direct or by marriage;
nowhere on the stone were the names of any women.
I survived
eleven year in Korean because my life was dependent
upon the life of the collective family and the collective
family depended upon my loyalty and honor to survive.
After the car accident that broke my spine, something
happened, something hard to describe but I knew life
as I knew it had ended as death began to pursue me.
It was
impossible to allow death to affect my family in Korean
so I had to go back to where I had come from. There
was no need of a funeral for that was taken care of
on that cold day in February. I had no need of a burial
as I was buried with my father-in-law and my name
remains on the stone. There remains only one last
thing to do and that is to arrange my appointments
with people on the United States especially my blood
family and those “Christians” who left
me on the highway of the US and Canada during the
ten years I traveled to tell everyone the great news.
I must make plans to go to where they are and I will
meet them, each and every one of them.
Year after year, century after century the first son
born is given the cultural key that binds all families
together and with all families bound together there
come an over lapping process until the total of society
is related through family or through blood marriages.