Dear Folks,

Here we have some photos of my third son, as he plays on some tanks and whatnot at the national cemetary, next door to our school.  We are just so darned lucky to have this sort of neat stuff in our backyard, right next door to our public elementary school, as it were.  All the little kiddies just love to go there whenever they can squeeze out a pinch of time for a quick visit and climb about on the hallowed military equipment.  

Their mothers teach them assiduously that "The best offence is a good defense," "Get one for the Gipper."  "Quitters never win and winners never quit," as it were.

To that, you must patronizingly forgive South Koreans for their hyper-concern with maintaining a dominant military (currently ranked on a par, at #8 in the world, with mainland China), given that they have been invaded more far recently than we in the U.S. of A., as it were.  Perhaps they will "loosen up" and adopt a more passivist posture after they endure a few more pampered generations.  After all, they inherit the dubious distinction of sharing "the world's most armed border," as it were. 

What could be more fun for a young boy than climbing about on a tank?

I have yearned for a woman to move into leadership for decades.  I wrote my thesis in a college class (History of Sport in Society) on Title IV and its effects on women, then mostly expected effects, many benefits which did not pan out as expected, at UNC-CH, 1979ff. 

I thought Hillary would be the better between her and Obama, given her greater experience, and ability to define herself, actually vote more than "present,"  a luxury of indecision not afforded someone in an executive position.  [Now, I have become more fond of Obama ever since he made it clear that he intends to lower taxes, recognizing the necessity of that for reviving the economy.] 

I have heard Palin speak but once, in her inauguration and was impressed.  She speaks frankly, which is refreshing.  And I think she will be good for Obama, help him to define himself.  He is no patsy, very capable of responding positively to a challenge.  

You know, people have complained about Obama's lack of foreign policy experience as a problem, and I have not really seen it that way.  I think a most critical skill is eloquence, and he has it.  Clinton had it.  And if you are a war monger, or just worried that there might be an American president too hesitant to jump into a war, such that your neighborhood may come under attack and rule by a foreign power, I say, "Don't worry." 

Another thing, people have expressed concern about Palin moving into the executive position if McCain were to suddenly make an involuntary investment in "the proverbial pastoral estate."  Well, that does not worry me one bit.  I would like to see her become president, and that is not a terribly unlikely event, given McCain's age and health. 

Mind  you, this is just my two cents' worth, but I harbor a belief that every politician has a deep sense of insecurity, having decided long ago to manage other people's lives (rather than their own), and thus, yearns to become famous, and remembered for as long as possible. They are also no dummies, each able to persuade a large number of people to vote for them.  Hence, they realize that the best way to guarantee history books remember you fondly is to have held the top executive position in times of a war which ultimately was judged victorious and necessary.   

I even read that Clinton was quoted off the record as having exclaimed, "Oh!  I wish that had been on my watch!"  when he first heard of the 9/11 bombings.  Regardless of whether it is true, I have a feeling that this would be a typical response for most presidents.  Do you think there is such a creature as a passivist president?  Can you imagine Ghandi stumping for president of the U.S.?  I find it hard to think he would want to be president.  Do you want to be president?  And do you consider yourself passivist? 

And there is one other aspects of a female presidency which I believe we could expect, which I believe we badly need right now, and that is prudent financial oversight.  We spend too much.  In South Korea, within the family, women hold the purse strings.  And they hold them rather tightly, at least with the older generation.  They dislike debt, and they dislike heavy consumption spending. 

How wonderful it would be to have a government which was debt free.  We have that in North Carolina, and a few other states, because there is a constitutional amendment which requires it.  Thank goodness.  If we were to get one such amendment for the national government, I would ejaculate one hearty, "Hallelujah!"  And if were were even so lucky as to have a bill that became law eradicating pork spending, earmarks, then I would sit back gently with a soft "Amen."  Only nation wide tort reform, to boot, would ease my heart entirely and settle me softly into my grave when that time comes. 

I see no reason we could not have a fine goverment that operated very well on but five to seven percent of GDP. 

And, from my humble country bumpkin perspective at least, this reeks of honesty, integrity and dignity.  With government spending restricted to a clear public good, we would thenceforth have a society where no one is forced to pay for another person's particular fancy of how to make society better.  Each person would have the liberty to act as a moral agent for God in the way he spends his money.  Now, that is just a dream.  I have enjoyed paying zero U.S. income tax for my labor earnings here in South Korea, as they fall into the exemption status of "foreign earned income, tax form 2555, line 21 on your basic 1040 form.  But I feel for others who have their money taken by force of law and used against their will for projects which clearly do not enjoy anything near consensus on their status as a pubic good anymore. 

I believe we gain a lot more agreement on government action to stop "bad behavior," than the level of agreement we get on various ideas and actions to "do some good."   Pooled money works better (gets a lot less disagreement) in combatting evil (putting murderers in jail, for example), while it seems better to remove certain debates from the public forum merely by "privatizing" them, or taking them off the public table, no longer forcing people to pool their money to address these concerns, rather letting each person "vote" just how much he value certain goods, by spending his dollars on them. 

One thing is sure, that the burgeoning private charities would be held a lot more accountable, as they already are, in the way they spend their money.  Public outcry immediately forced the Red Cross director to resign and then forced the subsequent leaders to make a complete reversal on their policy, when they got greedy and tried to waffle out of their avowed commitment to spend all of the 911 victim's collection fund on those victims, despite the huge amounts of money that came in.  Nothing like that happens with government allocated expenditures, for we are powerless, in that we do not hold the purse strings. 

I know that if my wife were president, she would be a lot more cautious than most male presidents.  I am not voting for her.  To that, she is not even running, nor is she American.  I am just making a financial observation to the effect that I believe mature women are more prudent with money.  And when we pool our money, perhaps we should more strongly consider letting a woman manage it. 

Don't men get these big ideas and go out on limbs, taking our money with them?  I believe there is a certain male penchant for this, and that it is not necessarily healthy.  Bush never campaigned as a small government advocate; he never had to.  With a stronger Democratic party, the competition will force both sides to be more fiscally responsible ... not a bad thing at all, in my little book. 

Love, Padooker

Dear Folks,

Here they are, playing on a No-Ree-Teo, or playground equipment, the way they say it in Korean.

Well, this will be a long entry, unless my conscious gets the better of me.  I am trying to find anything to do to avoid getting down and doing what I most needed to do during this three-day holiday.  Across the hall, there lies a box in a room.  And that box has a good many friends, other boxes, sitting there on the floor, and on my couch, couch for that waiting room, where we play padook. 

Playground Fun

These here boxes (or more properly, those there boxes) contain what you might call a whole bunch of papers, news articles printed out from my printer, along with the genuine article, real newsprint, from newspapers I have collected here over the past ten years, English language South Korean newspapers. 

I have one confession to make.  I am a packrat, alas.  I am sure you have probably met a few other like me in your life.  You may even have one in your family.  Packrats must be dealt with square on, by themselves.  Nobody else can do it for them.  They have to take themselves by the horns and make themselves do triage on their things, their precious stuff.  

My wife is an amazing woman, in that she can tolerate, even love, such a packrat as myself.   I expect I will stumble into the end of my life, in my old age, not with any savings much to speak of, but a rather large old house, replete with books, and a shed out back that has grown bit by bit into a veritable barn, full of books that I have never read any more than a little here and there, chipping through them from time to time. 

That's the thing.  If you read all your books, or are at least plowing your way through them, that's OK.  But I have books I know I will never read.  I have long since lost interest in some subjects and have become far more interested in ... You guessed it! ... (Not!)  Baptist theology (Nope, folks, contrary to popular (dis)belief, that's not a oxymoron, or any other moron for that matter!  Nor is, fancy this ... Baptist Scholarship!). 

So, I will have to sift through my books here and give them to various friends and institutions, which would like to have them. I have already done some.  The local branch of the national university was delighted to have all of my old Korean language study books, back from my army days, as they were based on the North Korean language.  I was happy to be rid of them without having to toss them out.  Nothing tugs on a packrat's tender gut more than to see something that might, just might, have some value perfunctorily tossed out.  Just that phrase, "Well, then shall we toss it out?"  brings on haunting memories and the heebie jeebies for your tried-and-true packrat. 

I gave away maybe a thousand books in 1989, in one big move.  It took me awhile to sift through the stuff, stored in my parent's home.  I gave them by subject category to friends who held a strong interest in each subject.  That felt good, and necessary.

Moving from two buildings over to this place, down on the first floor five or six years ago, was a veritable blessing because it forced me to throw so much away.  I had no choice.  The house was sold and the new one bought and paid for.  We had to go.  Six movers were hustling us out the door, those blessed men (and one woman, who incidentally could lift every bit as much as any of the muscular men there).  She was a big woman, and had done that work for a long time. 

When we moved in, my wife and I laughed about our observation that that was the first time we had had a clean house in years.   The same will be true two years hence, when we make our great exodus to the U.S. of A.  And friends, that time will come all too fast.   When kids tug on you all the time, from "all five quarters," you don't have time to think in any systematic, memorable way.  It's all just a blur. 

So, without further ado, while these first six photos are uploading, I shall make a foray into the next room and enact triage on one hapless overflowing box of papers. 

Ugg...  Much time later ...  I got through about one and a half boxes.   Hallelujah! 

Above, here we are in Granma's Home.

Love, Padooker

Dear Folks,

   Uggh.  I am tired and dizzy, more dizzy than tired, but still tired nonetheless.  I rode three rides with my children at Goom Do Lee Land, a local amusement park. 

My Dandelion is the daredevil of our family, undaunted by any ride they have to offer.

"Free Tickets" in Korean, indicates that you pay one price, 15,000 won, and you can ride as many different rides as you want all day.  My wife did not want for us to do that, as it would have been 60,000 won right off the bat, and we would have stayed longer, meaning I would have had to fork out for snacks.  Once they get you inside the park, they nickel and dime you on the snacks and whatnot.  Balloons are an enticement for the younger kids.  I have my share of younger kids. 

Two representative views, one inside the ferris wheel, and the other looking out, just to give you some idea of what we endured.

Above, My Clever Lad is high on a horse, while to the right My Flagship takes in the scene.

It seemed that I had no choice but to pay 4,500 times three for three adult tickets in order to ride three rides with my children.  My smallest would not have riden the log ride or the huge ferris wheel had I not joined him.  I enjoyed the ferris wheel, which turned continuously, with one revolution taking about five minutes. 

But I could have perhaps done without the log ride.  The large roller coaster was not optional.  I did not know how much it would mean to me, but first witnessing my daredevil daughter do two of the more aggressive rides by herself, inclined me towards joining her for the first genuinely monster-sized roller coaster of her life.  Roller coasters mean nothing to me, but they mean so much to her that I would not have missed that shared experience for the world. 

Above we have My Shining Knight on the left, and then My Dandelion perched up near the top of this Viking Ship, inimitably doing her thing, enjoying the moment in the way she so thoroughly does.

Wifey as per usual, stayed home and merely said upon our return, "I cannot see why anyone rides roller coasters." To which I quipped, "But they are statistically safer than cars."  Her comeback, "But roller coasters are unnecessary."  Touche.

Still, that ride with My Dandelion is a memory I will keep forever.  We held hands tightly, I on the left, she on the right.  We did two regular loop the loops, and then a whole bunch of corkscrew twists.  It was a 2 minute thirty second ride, not that I was counting ... it's just that was I was told before assuming the position in my seat.

Cost Breakdown: 

Taxi fees    =============>   6,200

Four 5-ride tickets  ======>   44,000 

Three adult tickets  =======> 13,500

One Small Robot Ride ====>    1,000

One individual child ticket ==>  3,000

Grand Total Expenditures ==>  57,700

Total Elapsed Time (House to house) ==>  12:45 to 3:50 = 3 hours and 5 minutes

It is now 4:47; I must teach from 5 to 9, four hours straight with no break, and I am still dizzy.  I have a mug of hot chocolate beside me, and I took one Tylenol, not knowing whether it would actually help or not.  According to my father, Tylenol has but two of the four beneficial functions that aspirin has.   One more thing my father once told me was that aspirin today would not make the cut if it were introduced as a new drug before the FDA. 

A few more photos: 

Below, it is a bit noisy on this one-dollar, 2-minute toddler's ride.  Good thing, too, as they will not clamor to ride it any more.  A penny saved is a penny earned, according to my wife.  

Dear Folks,

   Bugs have been an even bigger part of our lives here lately.  Just two days ago, we snapped up a five-dollar bug sucker gun from the local E-Mart, a South Korean knock-off version of K-Mart. 

    My children run about the house sucking up fruit flies, which we harbor in abundance.  It is a battery-operated thing-a-ma-jig which safely sucks them up into a clear chamber, after which you can sashay outside and release them on the wind.

   My Flagship has been watching one large female praying mantis now for nearly two weeks.  He stops by it to feed it a couple of spiders on our walk to school each day, from the final bus stop. 

Take a close look below and you may see an ordinary moth on my sandals.  We took a dip in the creek at Stone Cole Valley.  Hint:  the moth is on the left sandal, up near the toe. 

Caterpillar Hangs Loose.  I believe I will not do this anymore, clutter our family photo album with insect photos which do not have a child's shiny face beaming behind the little critters.  Wifey fully concurs on this point.  For that matter, she does not like to keep photos of our children with their backs to the camera. 

My father enjoyed photography but had the same sense of low valuation on a a shot of a child's back.  I do not.  I believe I can remember who they are in the future, given that we have only five, and I like seeing the things they do from behind.  It is interesting the way they move.  I can imagine what they are thinking, when they are out on the prowl, looking for insects.  

Above left, My Flagship is holding some kind of loosely connected cocoons.  He decided to leave it there in nature, than to schlepp it out of the park. 

Mom and The Little General are snoozing in the early morning.   It seems to run in the family, as my mother always did enjoy a good snooze.

Here is My Shining Knight, amusing himself with an empty water bottle in another park a couple of weeks ago.  To the right is a picture showing a fuller perspective, with My Dandelion walking along beside the grass where we set up camp for the afternoon. 

Really, all we did was throw down a mat, but as you see below, My Little General felt all at home and had himself a good long snooze.  He loves the outdoor air, and is quite docile when you take him outside.  But he can whine indoors if no one is holding him.  Funny how that is. 

Love, Padooker

Dear Folks,

My children are shown here eating breakfast on this morning of the eleventh of September.  We chow down in the aye emm.  It is a beautiful morning here.  We got up at 7:00 and made it to school on time. 

We have a 50-minute commute, which includes some walking, a subway ride, a bit of walking, then waiting, then a bus ride, and then about ten minutes of walking.

You can see that we all still have the sleepy look. 

My Clever Lad has his knees up in his shirt.  Each of the other children reported that the first thought he had a big belly, for a second or so.

Below, you see my wife, holding her fifth child.  She seems to cherish it greater than ever.  It is strange perhaps, for her, to sense that this is healthy and young flesh of her flesh that might never have been.  We didn't expect this one, as we had gotten so busy enmeshed in caring for our children that it had gotten to where we rarely served God anymore in our obedient coitus continuous.

We still believe that God wants us to couple gladly ... only we have become quite mesmerized with the love of our children, as well as just plain busy in caring for them.  Still, it is a blessing beyond measure to have this fifth child.  He is anything but a fifth wheel.  And that is how we feel.

Love, Padooker

P.S. I aim to write more regularly, even if it means I must abbreviate my messages.

Dear Folks,

Two days ago, I decided to blow off school and take my burgeoning brood to the mountains for a hike and some wading in the creek there.  What precipitated this decision was that I woke up early, as per usual, and found my wife sitting in a large wicker chair, exhausted, with our baby in her lap.  Apparently she had been up much of the early morning hours, attending to his needs, perhaps even walking about with him to calm him. 

She badly needed sleep, which she could only get if I were to take the baby and relieve her completely of him.  So, that I did, and let the other four children just sleep.  I thought we might go to school one or two hours late.  Well, it didn't pan out like that, as they slept soundly for another hour or so, and my wife kept time with them, drinking in the sleep. 

Our school commute is about 50 minutes, by bus and subway.  It is tiring in its own right.  The school experience is abusive in fact, but that is the only way to get a taste of South Korean public school life.  You accept the good with the bad.  Hence, it never bothers my wife and me if we decide to opt out of school for a day.  We know that our children will get some relief from the steady diet of abuse the get at their school.  This is a constant feature of public schools here, as we have been to several public schools (in search of the mythical "perfect school," and finally have settled for "the most tolerable one." 

I am glad to have my children in public schools here.  My wife, a South Korean, sees zero benefit other than the babysitting function they provide.  I see other benefits.  They learn social skills.  My third son, just yesterday, learned how to love his enemy.  I told him that the boy who said quite frankly in class, "I want to kill Joe."  was angry because his own parents divorced recently, and his mother quickly remarried.  He has to live in a house with a man who is not his father, while that man sleeps with his mother ... not an enticing situation, not one you would wish on your worst enemy.  My son agreed, and developed greater empathy.  He is ahead of his age, I think, on that measure. 

Of course, we teach them to pray.  We pray each night, all the children and Daddy, after reading from a children's Bible.  This is the one we are focusing on right now:  The Children's Bible in 365 Stories by Mary Batchelor.  We read several others, intermixing them with this one, but we are marking time through this one, keeping with the date for each passage.  It has some good questions in each lesson to help the children focus and listen well. 

Their sweet prayers have been rather effective.  Whenever a friend of ours runs into trouble, my children pray each night for resolution to their problems, and after some time, they come to a better turn.  I know if I were ever down and out, suffering from a bad turn in life, I could do a lot worse than having my children for a prayer team on my side. 

Just recently the Roman Catholic church decided that they did not believe in Limbo.  So much for that.  I thought it was a rather nice concept, even if I did not believe it.  I am actually Baptist, but have empathy for other beliefs.  I think it is sweet that other people have things they fervently believe, and just as fervently try to follow.  I believe it makes their lives better.  And when I type "sweet," I do not mean in any way something condescending, merely sweet.  It is touching and warms my heart directly.  

People do that.  They have things they love, and apply themselves to them directly, or periodically, from time to time, in their lives, as much as they can handle.  I have a great variety of friends, and I enjoy watching their behavior.  Well, it is about time for me to round up the children and head home from school.  I will try to add photos from our mountain trip to this post later.   

Love, Padooker

Dear Folks,

I posted an answer to one of the "Hot Topics" of Xanga, "What do you wish you had known prior to marriage?"   My response focuses on comparing marriage to a bottle of beer.  I see incredibly much resonance between the two.  In fact, truth be told, than a bottle of beer, I know of no better comparison which sheds more pragmatic light on what it is like to be married.

Below is my response, and of the seven minor points, let me just say that I believe that my wife does a better job than I on items one through six.  Good for her.  I am her one-man cheering squad. 

She has a hard time disciplining our children because she lacks certain oratorial skills in the English language.  When she tells them not to do something, her voice sounds somewhat childlike, lacking in conviction, given that English is her second language. 

Instinctively, the children tender her less respect than they might otherwise.  Early in marriage, she lacked variety in her vocabulary.  She flounders with repetition of the same phrase, merely with greater volume; when we native speakers might escalate our prohibitions as follows, "Stop that, Joe!"    ...a little later, "Hey, I told you to stop pulling Sally's hair."   Later...  "Joe!  If you don't stop pulling your sister's hair, I am going to wallop you, good!"   Later... "Joe, I mean what I said!"       Later...   "Now that does it!  This time, you've gone too far.  You're in for a real spanking!"    

Or, if you want the redneck version(always available on request at Padooker's Cafe):  "At's it!  Boy!  You done it now!  You better git a'fore I knock you into next week!   [boy exits in flight]  .. Heh heh heh.  At's right...  He Better run!  I tan his hide rite quick like."  

Our linguistic variety serves to verbally overpower the child, at once convincing him that we are not only physically larger, but intellectually superior in development.  He backs down, cowed, at some point in the repartee.  Not so with my wife's efforts at disciplining.  They just ignore her. 

I'm not a big spanker, though we do spank, but only when we need to.  Only, I more often demure.  I find, though, that to maintain respect for their mother in my children's minds, I need to be as consistent as I can in backing her up on her judgments about punishment. 

Berkeley did a huge study on spanking (the kind involved in punishing errant children).  They found no harmful effects for judicious spanking.  I tend to feel that any time you spank, you may be effectively admitting that you did not invest enough time in preparing your child such that this result would never transpire. 

It is interesting, though, that staunch intolerance of allowing parents legal freedom to spank their children as a part of disciplinary patterns is inversely proportionally correlated to being the parent of a larger number of children.  Wonder why.

I know that I could tolerate a child abusing my rights far more easily than I could tolerate him abusing a younger sibling's rights.  Many people either have only one child, have their children somewhat farther apart in years that they do not compete directly, or have their children growing up in larger houses, with more resources to share, places to retreat, which eases sibling congestion.   

But thanks to the extreme efforts of my faithful wife, my brood all speaks English like native speakers, while their Korean American friends here are strong on Korean (which my children barely speak) but can barely speak more than rudimentary English.  Well, enough of that. 

             * * * * * * * * * * * *

My Hot Topic Post:  

Question:  "Dude, what do you wish you had known about marriage before getting hitched?"

My Answer (In a nutshell): 

I wish I had known marriage was so easy, and I mean E-A-S-Y!   

Or course, I always knew in my heart that I would go ahead and get married if "the right girl" came along.  I was raised to understand that marriage is a duty, in order to fulfill God's first command to man, "Be fruitful and multiply." 

Really, by "right girl," I merely felt "a girl who seemed to be sincere about Holy Scripture, and wanted nothing more than to live with Christ as the center of her life."   

I like to compare marriage to a bottle of beer.  I think that is the best way to introduce the essence of marriage to young, unmarried. 

I don't mean to disparage the writer of this blog, and this excellent question.  Without doubt, patience, togetherness, compromise, and organization are indispensible qualities to a good marriage ... and to a good working relationship at the office, and to have a good garden club, boy scout group, school, vacation trip, even to maintain a good friendship.  To every manner of group activity, these aspects are inextricably bound up in the inner-workings of a solid, well-functioning organism. 

Back to the Beer:   I did not like the idea of drinking when I was in college, though my siblings and most of my friends (all writers) did indeed imbibe.  My older sister once told me that beer does not necessarily make people bad, it merely serves as an occasion for the real jerk in people to come out.  Concomitantly, she added, in other types of people, those who are deep down quite congenial, beer serves as an agent to release the essence of their amiable, easy-going personality.  

So, beer, as the ubiquitous all-purpose reliever of inhibitions, doesn't really make you an abusive person, nor does it make you the life of the party.  Rather, it just removes the veil and lets people see aspects of you in their fuller colors, more of what you really are deep down. 

Well, I have found that marriage does this.  If you are not good friends with your siblings; if you do not maintain deep, abiding, life-long relationships with your early childhood friends; if you are a jerk at work; if you are the type to step on others' heads to get ahead at work ...   Um ... don't expect to have a great marriage.  

You are probably going to have problems with all of the qualities that make for great relationships:  patience, charity, compromise, prudence, hope, love, trust, honor, dignity, fortitude, respect, courage, thrift, justice, temperance, loyalty, reverence, and faith, among others. 

Minor Points:

But, there may be a few minor things that you might find different in a marriage, than in a friendship, and these are things my mother told me about as a child, and for which it seems she prepared me well: 

1. Do not use sarcasm with your spouse or children. (Men mostly)

2. Be quiet.  Hey, you live together.  No chatterboxes allowed.  No whiners allowed.

3. Let there be space in your togetherness.  Spend time apart. 

4. Trust.  Don't check up on each other.  (My wife and I don't have hand phones, don't want'em, either, just one less thing to worry about.) 

5. Go to bed on time.  (This is a life, not a party.)  Getting enough sleep solves nearly all problems.  Once you begin raising children, you have no more latitude to catch up on sleep later. 

6. Grow up; Stop the excessive and puerile (Made in America) dependence on cupidity ... that is characteristic of dating (and grammar school day dreams .. boys mostly).  It is fine and good for the honeymoon and first year or so of marriage.  In fact, it is probably a good idea to always knock on a newly married couple's door before entering, even if you have a precise dinner date planned.  [Note: It's simultaneously funny and pathetic how typical Americans perfunctorily think that their extreme of libidinousness is just plain universal.]

7. Know that the only true and complete sexual satisfaction inheres in allowing (respecting) the fullest cycle of sexuality, meaning gestation; holding your wife's hand through labor; washing dishes while she rests; rocking the baby; walking about during the night, holding him in  your arms to ease his digestive tract cramps; lying down to sleep with a passel of kids about you, each touching you on one point, head, each side, feet ... one with a choke hold on your neck, all asleep while the night is still; sitting beside your child to do homework, listening to his questions and stories; saying "It's good to meet you!" with a genuine-ish smile when your child introduces his or her first boyfriend or girlfriend ... who invariably may appear somewhat challenged in the personal hygiene department.  Without these, I cannot imagine genuine sexual satisfaction.  The best parts of life are not so easily or neatly partitioned. 

And yes, marriage is easy, a piece of cake ... if you prepare.  And I can think of no better preparation than working hard, censoring yourself in your daily diary, towards becoming the best sibling, the best work partner, the best in all of your quotidian relationships.  Then marriage will be as easy as eating apple pie.  Hope you like apples, cause you can't change what you get.

And again, back to sleep, may your marriage last long enough to see the wisdom of the marriage in "The Sheltering Sky," (Debra Winger and John Malcovich) wherein they know better than to sleep together.  Sleeping well is the best revenge for many a calamity of life. 

My two cents worth. 

Dear Folks,

This is the final week of my children's summer vacation.   My wife homeschools them every afternoon, focusing on the more basic aspects of the three R's.  How much more fundamental can you get?

I have not written all that much here lately on account a how I've been kind of busy with a newborn child, and teaching an extra load, three elementary school English summer camps.  I will gradually upload photos of the newborn, a boy.  Being a boy really disappointed my daughter.  She just plain cried when the news came that "it" was a he. 

I plan now more than ever to follow through on a promise to help my daughter open up a coffee shop when she is in high school, let her own and manage it, with me cleaning up late nights.  The motif will be Chosun culture (precursor to Korean culture).  We are collecting the music and paintings.  I'll upload a few photos to that end. 

This outta give you some idea of what we mean.  I picked these up from the trash outside, and plan to renovate them, make a new wooden frame for them in the States.  However, I bought some new Chosun paraphernalia. 

I feel as if this coffee shop thing is good in more ways than one.  I have exuded a long-standing hankering to collect little trinkets representative of the Chosun culture.  Modern Korean culture bears no clear resemblance to the cultures prior to Korea, which inhabited this little finger of land extending into the ocean east of Mainland China. 

Wifey has criticized me for buying things we would never use.  I merely needed a way to share the beauty of these things with others.  Now, it seems we have come up with one.  My daughter has been consistently enthusiastic about opening up a "coffee shoppe cum choclaterie," or a chocolate shop which doubles as a coffee shop, to boot.

And the kicker, as I see it, will be when old people come in for a cup of tea (We'll have the traditional flower teas from South Korea, as well.), and see my daughter, who in a sense, looks lilly white though she is half Oriental, and challenge her with something like, "So, you have a Chosun Coffee Shop.  Now, can anybody here speak Korean?" 

My daughter gabs on the phone with the latest in fashionable girl-esque Korean."  And unlike her dad, her pronunciation is up to par with Killer Korean Valley Girl.  That is her thing.  I suggest that be what she capitalize upon when we make our great exodus to the States. 

She does not want to be a big academic.  My wife, and all my friends, say she needs to excel in school.  I say, "Don't push her."  But who ever listens to what I say.   One thing for sure, she is smart.  I pushed her several years ago to learn padook in the hagwons here.  She now can beat her daddy ... which is not really saying all that much.  

Anybody wanna hazard a guess as to how many times my second youngest son (a.k.a. My Clever Lad) will whine to me today, "Daddy, will you give me Gordon?"?  Gordon is one of the trains in the children's TV series from England, "Thomas the Tank Engine."   My Clever Lad knows them all by heart.

He has been begging me repeatedly this morning and early afternoon to go shopping at the local E-Mart (Walmart Knockoff) and buy him Gordon.  The thing is, what brought this on, is that I bought him Spencer just yesterday.  I also paid for half of the dirt/food that my oldest son's deerhorn beatles need.  I bought nothing for my other two children.   This one does not give up.  He has already asked me more than thirty times, easily, maybe many more times than that.  I'm guessing rather conservatively right now.

He is hanging on my right arm as I type, using that time-tested negotiating technique of wearing the opponent down with the same request/demand. 

Here are some photos of my students from summer camp, during break time.

And below is a photo of my wife with my Shining Knight, studying together in the afternoon.

For those of you who think it heartless of me to refuse to buy My Clever Lad Gordon, Spencer, yesterday, cost me 11,900 won, or about 12 dollars.  I don't think it best for him to receive one a week of that kind of toy. 

Today, I did set up a fine place for him to play, on top of two padook tables, slapped together.  Perhaps I'll upload a photo of that for you.  We'll see what we can do.  I have a few minutes to wait around the house before the older three kids come home from padook hagwon.

Also, above, we have a photo of my baby, along with two former students, now college students, majoring in architecture and city planning.  Together, we took my children out last night for a few hours, which lets Momma rest in peace.  Momma, for her part, availed herself of the scintillating opportunity to watch a good movie in the tranquil sanctity of her humble abode, as it were  ... sans le bebe. 

Love, Padooker

PS Aquarium Leak!

We had a small aquarium leak mishap, as it were, the which, the way I see it, would have been of no consequence had it been a leak in virtually any other container in our home.  As it were, it decided to up and manifest itself on the underside of our largest aquarium, the one in the classroom. Photo:

We are draining this here aquarium on account a jus how come it did sprung a leakin in de classroom.  Q.E.D., as it were. 

And we do have a baby now.  He be about a month old, no?

Make that one more member added to our Burgeoning Brood, there dude.

Dear Folks,

Baby Registration:

I took my new baby to the US Embassy in Seoul today, to get him all registered and up to snuff. 

It was a lovely day, I say.  Now, I am drinking a cup of wine and eating boysenberry jam on whole grain bread, with some smoked cheese at my side.  The cheese is great with the wine, but does not jibe with the bread so much. 

That is not a problem as I can drink wine with the cheese when I am in a cheese mood, and then switch for a period to drinking wine with my boysenberry preserves and bread when I am in more of what you might call a "boysenberry and bread mood," as it were.

Now Who Dat  Funky Jive Tuhkey Think He Is ... Getting Hee's Pumpkin Head Square in Deh Way A My Fine Palace Pickchure!

I firmly believe flexibility is the key to a life long love of happy eating.   I used to love to eat certain things in the U.S., things which they do not have here in The Land of the Morning Calm.   I just forget about them and eat what I like here.  I have never had a period when I enjoyed wine in the U.S. 

France:

I did spend the summer of 1984, though, in a college study program in France, where I enjoyed wine and cheese for five weeks straight with a newfound Spanish/French friend of mine, as we travelled about the small towns of the countryside.  I enjoyed looking at the cathedrals and she enjoyed wine and cheese.  In order to enjoy the time with her, I thoroughly enjoyed partaking of the wine and cheese.  And she, for her part, allowed herself to be subjected to perusing every small cathedral in the areas we visited.

We took the fast train to Seoul, and my children enjoyed it immensely, particularly My Clever Lad.  I long to share the real names of my children with my Xanga readers, but have been warned by a friend not to do so, for safety reasons, to which my wife agrees ... in spades. 

Little Dude looks down at carp in a pond, while My Shining Knight downs a carton of chocolate milk.

My Dandelion holds her pockets in place, while my Flagship walks along focused on the insect life, utterly ignoring the centuries old palace grounds preserved about him.

Excuses, Excuses:

I have not written an entry for Xanga for a few weeks because I have been busier than a bull in a new pasture.  I taught three summer school English programs, and despite the rain, managed to bike almost every day, to and from work.  By the way, anybody ever listen to Melanie Skafa's Candles in the Rain?   Just thought I'd ask...

I don't suppose it is great music, but it held me entranced for a period, when I lived alone in the mountains of North Carolina, prior to marriage.   I used to train hard as a runner.  (I used to train hard as a runner, and was accordingly far more sensitive to aesthetic influences.)  Now, I do not.  No love lost, either.  Rather, love found and won, love in the running.

Let's see if we can't get some more bosenberry jam on some bread here...

I believe I shall have to come to an unwelcome close here -- feel like I was just getting started -- as my children need to get to bed.  I read them the Bible every evening before bed, except that I do not.  Rather, I read them a children's bible.  We actually have eight or ten of these simplified knock-off versions of The Bucking Real McCoy (You know, the original King James...).  But with the children's bibles, if the writer is good, we get a sheer blessing to read, a delight to young minds.  Otherwise, there can be some problems which need constant nagging edification, changes I make off the cuff as I read.

I gave my very first sermon two weeks ago, at Central Gate Baptist Church.  They invited me to preach, and I said I would be glad to.  I did, and I was very pleased.  I felt like there was nothing else I would rather be doing.  I suppose I had better get registered in a seminary program and get myself educated up to speed, as it were. 

I preached on Christian charity. My children heard my first sermon.  My wife, as per usual, was absentee, and very happily insulated in her home.

Love, Padooker