Checking myself

I had my first dream in Korean.  I talk in my sleep too. My dreams are most vivid the minute before I wake up and open my eyes.  I can’t remember what I said, but it was in Korean.  So surprised, I tried hard to go back to sleep to figure it all out.  I was so excited!  Alas, nothing.

A week later, I had my second dream in Korean.  I was in a public bathroom needing to change my little one’s diaper.  Looking for the changing table, I noticed all the sinks were full of water with clothing soaking in them.  It felt like we were in a massive bathroom and upon quiet reflection, was it a public bathroom or was it? My little boy is sleeping soundly and with my right hand cradling his chubby cheeked face,  I quickly futz with my left to remove his clothes.  And then I hear her voice.  A woman standing behind me holding a little girl and talking wistfully – “Aigoo, look at her legs, they are so skinny.  I found her outside…Aigoo, she is so dirty…What to do….”  I don’t look up, just glance behind me to see a woman carrying a little one.  All I see is legs and yes they are skinny.  I awake.  Wait?  Was that all in Korean?  How did I know what that woman was saying?  I am not a great dream interpreter, but this one hit me hard. I KNOW what this one was about but I was so distracted that it was in Korean, I have spent little time dwelling on the deeper meaning of it.

I watch Korean dramas just before sleep.  The last thing I usually hear is Korean.  After years of drama watching, the language is finally seeping into my unconscious.  This “seeping in” of Korean has been a parallel process of seeping into the culture as well.  With language comes deeper understanding, more questions and slow acceptance of how things are.  Understanding how things are does not mean I accept, but I am becoming more and more aware that to be Korean means taking on more than just things I like, but also the things that I don’t or can’t.

The media has always been in no small measure a litmus of what we are doing, thinking about, hoping for and contending with.  Just look at the cast of movies that were up for an Oscar this year – slavery, AIDS, aging, death, greed, bravery and yes, even birth mothers and adoption.

In the course of the several years I have immersed myself into Korean dramas, I have noticed trends.  Adoption, birth secrets and abandoned children have always been a main staple.  But now, so is single motherhood and international adoption.  I haven’t seen one yet where they actually have an adoptee who is adopted to White/American parents cause the characters always return to Korea with revenge on his/her mind and speaking impeccable Korean. But the recently completed third edition of the “I Need Romance” series reminded me that I was not watching “Sex and the City” in the USA, but something entirely of a different culture and language.  There was a character who got pregnant after a one night stand and at the ripe old age of 31 must contend with this being her first and last possibility to becoming a mother.  Her Team Leader at work is also a single businesswoman with her own struggles with love and intimacy.  When the word got out of this unwed mother-to-be, it was the Team Leader that got chastised – she is leading the first group in the company’s history with such a scandal, her leadership is in question, her management abilities is judged and it is HER job to fix the issue.  Solution offered up by this male executive?  Lie.  Make up a fake wedding and send employee off for a month.  2014 and this is how Korea is dealing with this issue in its fantasy world.  This scene was a crude and illogical reality check that I am not Korean after all.  My indignation meant only that I still have much more work to do.

Reality check #2.  I was interviewed for SBS TV Morning Wise show.  They wanted to do a public interest story on the recent death of Hyun Su, the little boy recently adopted from Korea.  The accused is his adoptive father.  I don’t have to rehash the Korean adoptee movement that happened online, in Korea and in the hearts of so many of us who walked around like zombies mourning the brutal death of this little baby.  Reading Facebook and blogs, I was under the impression that this news was big in Korea.  I wanted to believe that all our words were being translated into Korean as we all watched in hopes that for a brief moment the world stopped in Korea.  Alas, nothing.  Reality sucks.

This interview almost didn’t happen.  The reporter wanted to speak to Korean American leaders in the community about their reaction to this recent death. It took a friend and colleague, a leader indeed, to remind this reporter that she simply cannot do a story on international adoption and NOT interview an adopted person.  I watched as the reporter asked questions for nearly 40 minutes to my colleague and then looked at me in wonderment as to what to ask me.  And then I dropped the stat!  The mother of all statistics – Korean adoptees represent about 10% of the Korean American community in the United States.  There are over 110,000 of us here in the United States.  That gets them every time.  I have been saying this for years!  And the fact that this statistic still blows someone’s mind reminds me again, we have so much work to do.  This presumably smart, educated person who reports on Korean Americans to Korea never considered speaking to an adopted person about adoption.  When I asked how significant will this story be in Korea, she responded, “Not very.”  Her network is not known to do serious pieces, but she will do her best to make it interesting for their viewership who would prefer to hear about the latest celebrity gossip.  When I asked how she felt about the adoptee activism in Korea, she really had very little to say.  It simply does not register on her radar.

Stunned is my reaction and then slight mirth.  I think adoption is incredibly interesting and I liken the issues facing domestic adoptees, and their rights to their original birth certificates, as THE last human right issue here.  I think adoption and how it is conducted, perceived and portrayed is a paramount issue for this country and most definitely in Korea. Checking myself and my ego on this one. Adoption barely registers on most people’s consciousness.  I got text messages from Korea today after the building collapse in Harlem wondering if I am ok.  I got zero messages or acknowledgement from Korea about the death of an adoptee.  More work to be done.

And then reality check #3 hit.  The SNL Korea episode that blew up Facebook and all the adoption bloggers out there.  Ah, humor.  A language all unto itself.  Am I the only Korean adoptee who did not think it was particularly offensive?  I didn’t think it was funny, but I was not outraged.  I have come to learn Korean humor can be incredibly cruel and biting.  The level of shame that people are put through in the name of humor makes me wildly uncomfortable.  For years, to my naive ears, I was offended by everything Koreans said to me, about me, about adoption, about my Umma, about my Americanness, about my size, my weight.  Perhaps after decades of immersion in this community Stateside and in Korea, I was not overtly angry.  My first reaction to the skit was, “Ouch, really makes American adoptive parents look racist and stupid.”  And then a knowing thought of how predictable he would chastise his birthmother; she “threw away” her baby.  And then a little smirk to the ironic rap of how Koreans abuse alcohol.  But, in the end, I was thinking, hmm, we adoptees must have arrived in Korea if SNL is spoofing us. Dare I hope that this might begin another round of dialoguing, educating and conversing among my Korean mommy friends and others who remain ignorant of the issues we adoptees face?  Will the controversy push Koreans to think about adoption and the issues of single mothers?  What do my “orphanage siblings” think about it?  What does my Umma think about it?

I don’t like Saturday Night Live in NY.  I don’t watch it.  I didn’t grow up watching the “brilliance” of John Belushi or Eddie Murphy.  But if I recall correctly, there have been many many controversial skits over the years.  I never found the show to be particularly funny either.  I usually found it offensive and physically uncomfortable to watch.  So, I suppose I came out with the same reaction to a Korean version.  Humor is so culture specific.  And no matter how much Korean I learn, humor alludes me at times.  I just don’t get it.  I don’t get Aziz Ansari sometimes and he is hugely popular here in the US.

I also don’t get why some adoptive parents felt compelled to apologize to us or on behalf of Korea.  To me, this skit was more indicative of how poorly Koreans think of Americans and the not so good job they are doing raising “their” children to be competent in Korean language and culture.  As an adult, I don’t feel much when an adoptive parent comes out in joint outrage.  I don’t find it incredibly allying.  Instead I reached out to friends, some who are adoptees and others who are adoptive parents.  One mom and dear friend spent many rounds of emails and phone conversations with me.  I get why she was sick to her stomach.  She was responding like a mother, responding to the ignorance and judgement she predicts for her children as they struggle to learn Korean like a native and take pride in their ability to do Taekwondo.  Mother to mother, I got the mother bear instinct she was conveying.    

I do get why adoptees are angry.  But I don’t know if SNL is where my anger would be directed to.  I often hear people say that making it on SNL here in the US is a badge of honor.  Being a guest on that show is a big deal in one’s career.  To be parodied is in some weird way is an acknowledgement that said person or issue has arrived in the social consciousness of a community.  So, perhaps a thanks with a small “T” to SNL Korea, for making adoption important enough to find a way to put it into their show?

SNL Korea apologized, but I am not so sure they know what they are apologizing for.  Their insensitivity?  Do they get why they were offensive or are they just being typical Koreans and apologizing for making noise, for creating a “scandal”, in response to the volume of discontent?  If yes, that would really make me angry.  There is no contrition in that, just a saving face.  I wonder if we, in our outrage, managed to shame them the very same way we have felt shamed.  For sure, this cast of comics won’t touch the topic of adoption again even though more Koreans are talking about adoption and international adoption because of this episode.  Have we successfully shoved Koreans back into the closet so they will now never touch adoption again?  That would be truly disappointing.

 

INFJ

After 10 days of international travel, I was invited to a Korean culture camp for adoptees and American born Korean kids.  This camp is special in that it melds the two communities – Korean adoptees and American born Korean kids.  While I thought I was showing my age by admitting that college was the first time I was fully and openly in the company of other Korean people, I am again learning that this continues to still be the case depending on where a child is adopted.  It is still possible for an adoptee, no matter the age, to feel like the only one.  I often find that the melding of American and Korean culture is still a challenge and often not fully addressed without a full commitment from the adopted person to go all in.  I am hoping this camp will hang around more so our future kids won’t feel so alienated from the community that most emulates them.  However, working at a sleep-away camp with your kids in tow is a weary experience.  On the one hand, I was fully engaged and engrossed with everything that was going on at camp, but felt like I had grown that mysterious third eye watching for my kids.  It was kind of crazy to see them in the mix of all these Korean American kids.  I could see them taking things in for the first time – grace in Korean, bowing at the end of every class, calling all the elders “teacher” and the celebration of Korean independence day literally made their jaws drop.  My big boy morphed in completely.  My little one proudly proclaimed he neither showered nor brushed his teeth all week!

So much acculturating, traveling, laundry…I was exhausted and wished for nothing more than a week to speak to no one.  I thought it was post-camp blues, but I realized that for the last three weeks, I have been in constant motion and constant thought.  And then I remembered, I am an INFJ of the Myers Briggs personality assessment.  A rare breed, we INFJs.  My desire to be mute and sit in silent contemplation could only be excused as a severe case of jetlag and the odd little personality quirk of mine to think ALOT before speaking.  As exciting as it is to do all that I did in August, the ideas and thoughts kept going in circles while my hands were busy being Mommy.

Now that I am in the comfort of a schedule and the kids are occupied with a remarkably smooth transition to school, I find myself reflecting over the last month the changes I experienced in Korea and in me.

The big wow for the kids about Korea was the motion sensors on the escalators.  We first avoided them when they were still thinking they were broken, ’cause that would be the case here in New York.  I can’t wait till America owns this idea too.  What stood out for me was seeing young women smoking in public.  After multiple visits where the ladies bathrooms would choke a horse with the smoke that filled the air, I was amused.  This development has also seemed to have impacted the men smoking  There are designated locations where smoking is permissible.  Still the men totally outnumber the women.  The nicest thing I saw was that PDA has now transcended gender.  It used to be only girls would hold girls hands and boys would walk with their arms over other boys.  Now heterosexual couples hold hands.  Finally!

Korean elders are bemoaning the demise of the Confucian ways.  Children are now being spoken to in formal Korean and that is disrupting the hierarchy that keeps the chain of respect in tact.  And yet, the very nature of etiquette is bred in the language.  The suffix -ayo/-eyo is never not used to indicate formality, politeness and distance between an older and younger person.  So I am not so convinced that the public face of Korea is in jeopardy.  Korea will remain ever polite and the expected suppression of freely expressing oneself  is still going strong.  We are still talking about Korea.

While it was really lovely to not be snickered at when speaking English out loud, I need to learn how to speak English Korean-style.  It is possible to order in English but not a guarantee you will get what you ordered.  By the time my kids travel to Korea on their own, I truly believe Korea will be bilingual, but not just yet.  I nearly laughed out loud when the English translation was sounded over the loudspeakers at the train station.  “This station stop is Uljiro Sam Ga.”  What is so funny about this is that “Sam” = 3.  If only they would say “This station stop is Uljiro Three Ga”  every single English speaker would know exactly where they are!  My last little gripe would be that no matter how modernized Seoul is, visions of its third-world past is not all together obliterated.  We loved the Korean GPS, it just didn’t save us from walking around in circles for hours to find my friend’s store.

My last thought of Korea is a personal fashion dare.  The next extremely sunny day, dare I open my sun umbrella instead of my sunglasses? I found myself eyeing them in their lovely colors and designs.  It was a moment that when in Korea, do as Koreans do…not yet in New York.

The changes in me are more conflicting.  I am forever seeking to find my place in this community of Koreans, Korean Americans and adoptees.  I am loving how easily I transition from English to Korean now both in language and mannerisms.  I am proud of the hard work put in to find such an equilibrium.  Yet, I am struck by how embroiled I can feel with the conflicts in our community of adoptees who differ so much in my perspective, my delivery, my deliberations on being adopted, being Korean and American.  I think I am finally finding the right words though.  In my adopted self, the profession I sought and the way I operate, I seek to be “eminently useful.”  I heard that phrase in church of all places.  I am at my best when I feel useful, involved, personally engaged. Being at camp getting kids to talk about race, culture and identity was thrilling.  Getting adoptees to share their stories and have others affected by them is empowering for them and for me.  Being asked by a Korean professor to teach others what I know about adoption was a high.  Coming home to sit with adoptees as they find their words to better understand themselves, create a sense of family, self identity and worth has made me feel eminent.  While I am always curious about the grander politics of adoption and I do want to be present as policy is discussed, I am realizing my INFJ ways more and more.  I work better one on one.  A contradiction here as I write these words to send out to the nebulous in hopes to reach more people outside of my little world.  Maybe there is more changing I need to do.

OHK

I seem to have left my blog in Korea along with my senses.  Last I wrote, I had not come to the meat of my journey, the real reasons I was anticipating my trip with so much enthusiasm.  The last three days of our trip was spent with my other family, the third one, the one connected to my orphanage.  My time at the orphanage is unmeasured and remains a mystery.  There is no one who is alive anymore to tell me where I was, who I was with and for how long.  I am unfinished about how I feel about those missing 2.5 years, but that time of “transition” must have packed quite a punch in the creation of me.  I can’t seem to forget about it and yet it no longer burdens me or terrifies my dreams.  Instead, I have been filling that hole with memories of people who have taught me that family can be a choice.

By week’s end, we said goodbye to the luxurious Lotte Hotel and began our weekend with S and W.  I can’t quite seem to find the right words for who they mean to me in my life.  W is from my orphanage and so my “little brother.”  The year I went to live in Korea, in the orphanage, S was a teacher there.  We spent so much time together talking and sharing the load of caring for the kids, it created an intimacy I have with no one else.  She was the only witness to a transformation that left me permanently connected to Korea beyond birth and culture.  I left Korea 20 years ago having found a soul mate in her.  So when S and W got married, it solidified in my mind the notion that they were my family.  Their children call me “Como” (Paternal Aunt).   And now, my children call them “Samcheon” and “Seungmo”.  Every person has a name depending on how you are related, so these are really special.

First priority was food for us and then for our visit to the orphanage.  My love for grocery shopping has not waned.  There are some things I hope will come to the States.  For one, there is a huge fridge of yogurts and instead of four packs, they come in twos and you can pack any multiple of two into a sealed bag – 10 for… Same goes for ice-pops among other things.   Nice.   Second, the ramen selection was AMAZING.  I wanted to skip through the aisle singing “Food glorious food!”  Third, all my favorite K-drama stars advertising everything and anything in full splendor and color.   For our trip to the orphanage, we pre-ordered pizzas.

Our trip to OHK was long, updated, modern and very familiar.  Things have changed a lot in the actual inside of the Home after the much publicized scandal of suspected abuse.  There was a complete revamping of the first floor of the two floor building.  Most apparent was the aesthetics of the place.  There were paper flowers and cute signs everywhere replacing the barren walls.  Second were the closed doors to the residential wings of the floor.  You can’t just indiscriminately walk around.  There were flat screen tvs in each wing replacing the one 16 inch that was in the cafeteria.  There were bunk beds in each room with only two or four kids per room.  I cannot believe the kids sleep in beds now, remembering that I had the only bed in the Home the last time I was there.   There are more boys than girls here so the girls are upstairs.  Bars and screens cover the windows now too.  CCTV and a high tech security system is in place now.  AND the kitchen!  In 1993, the kitchen was still open to nature’s elements with the girls waking up early to built a fire to cook the rice in a cast iron cooking stove that looks just like what you will find in the Korean Folk Village or an historical drama representing thousands of years ago.  The floor of the kitchen was made of stone and a hose was the source of COLD water to cook and wash dishes on the ground.  Now, there is a proper enclosed kitchen with fridges, range and oven, countertops and tiles on the floor.  That was a total OMG moment for me.

There seems to be an intention to humanize the children more too.  Each child has a box for shoes with his/her name on it INSIDE the home.  I cannot tell you how meaningful that was to S and me as we recalled the rubber house slippers the kids would wear, often mismatched.  S talked about how the shoes would be frozen as they used to be outside of the residence.  There is a photo of every child in the main office.  Necessary and at first glance a little jarring, but I liked it.  It acknowledges the existence of these children, something that was always missing when I was there.

And then there was much that didn’t change.  The room to the “study” was locked and unused.  Not a single kid was studying, reading or on the many computers lining the large community room.  What kid doesn’t want to be on a computer these days?  Something was wrong here.  The “library” was locked because of “water damage to the ceiling”….and yet on closer examination, the books look like they were the exact same books from when I was there 20 years ago and untouched.  What books would look so neat if 40+ kids were rifling through them even with the littlest amount of enthusiasm?  The inaction spoke louder than the pretty tour and words we were given.

Most of all, the Home was still so eerily quiet.  Visit any institution housing children and you will be startled at the silence.  It is always so quiet.  No laughing, no arguing, no talking.  The empty looks on the kids’ faces have not changed either, leaving me with that feeling that I must do something, but not quite sure what would be of any use living halfway around the world and knowing my next time to Korea is always just a wish amounting to lots of hope.  I forgot I could speak Korean and only stood in front of the kids, embarrassed at the grand introduction, and cried.  We ate together though.  Not one of the ten pizza pies went to waste.  One group of mischievous boys decided to deconstruct the pizza instead of eat it.  After a quiet round of elders looking at it and reprimanding them, I notice they begrudgingly sat down again and ate the entire pie.  As always, the elder boys and girls dictated the younger ones.

I am unsure as to how the rest of our little family felt about this visit.  We haven’t talked about it since that day.  I will just wait to hear when they are ready.  The boys went outside pretty quickly.  The shrimp, cranberry, pepper, sausage concoction of a pizza was not remotely appetizing to them.  S told me her own son rarely comes inside and her pre-adolescent daughter is less willing to stay inside and hang out with the kids as she connects the dots to this place that once was her father’s only home.  We promised them a chance to swim and play in water so our visit was short.  It was enough.

We brought kites, I couldn’t come empty handed.  This was fine as it was the little boys who were the only talkative bunch and they seemed to genuinely like the kites.  They must have known we were coming though.  I was amused that the only person they talked to was George.  The minute he got out of the car, they questioned whether he was indeed American and challenged him to say something in English!  Hilarious.

Our day ended with hours of fun by a stream that was supposed to be waist high for swimming.  Instead it was ankle deep, perfectly cold and enough entertainment for the kids to really bond and play.  We went from a five star hotel with $7 coffee to sitting on the floor eating over a butane powered flame and some cold beers.  The bathrooms were sketchy but brought back some funny memories for me.  My big boy was mortified when he learned that he needed to fill the scooper with water to “flush” the toilet but grateful he was a boy so he could remain standing!  No matter, it was good fun.  We sat by the water, S and me, talking talking talking.  Two ajummas now but laughing like we were still in our 20s.

Butterflies

What’s that saying, “not my first rodeo?”  This is not my first time to Korea, not my first long plane ride with young children.  There are no firsts for this go-around.  There is a full itinerary, there is a plan.  So, what’s the apprehension?  Why still the butterflies?

I have been going back and forth with my Umma about our pending trip.  There is nothing new about it particularly and yet thinking about seeing her makes me anxious.  Being with her has all the potential to make me feel euphoric and unfulfilled all at once.  Our last conversation was so ordinary in the way one talks to a parent as we planned and stated our thoughts on how much time we will get together.  While I can bask in the simplicity of how ordinary this phone call was, it always feels like a first.  Every time there is movement closer to each other and every hang up makes me sigh in apprehension that nothing will go as I hope…one step forward, two steps back.

Me – So, you will come to the airport?
Umma – Yes.
Me – So, you will come to the hotel on Monday and stay with us till Thursday?
Umma – No. I will go home. Your brother needs dinner.
(Pause. Insert eye roll and thoughts of, my brother is a grown man, I am SURE he can figure dinner out for himself.)
Me – What? Your home is so far from Seoul, that will be way too hard for you!
Umma – It’s ok. I will be fine. I am healthy and strong and it will not be so hard.
Me – But, I got the biggest room for us at the hotel, there is a separate bed for you too. You must stay with us. I don’t know when I will be in Korea again. I thought we would see a lot of each other this time.
Umma – We will talk about it when we are together, ok?

“We will talk about it when we are together…” Makes sense. We will see each other and we will hash this out. So ordinary. What every parent would say in a situation like this. I just need to be in the same air space and all will be sorted. Of course, there are many other grown children who have moved far from home and are petulant when they realize that those who remained are the primary thought.

There is nothing ordinary about this. Because underneath it all is my inference that I am, yet again, the third wheel, the one who is not part of the family. Never mind that it is taking everything I have to make this trip possible. Of course, I have a right to demand her time! Or do I? The seesaw goes back and forth. I am not worthy of her time. I am the one who disappeared. I am just a visitor in her life. I can’t trump my brother. He is her rock, her stability, her priority, her family.

The head starts to rationalize. I know it is absolutely bizarre for Umma to want to be in the company of me and several hundred other adoptees in a hotel room. There is no way she wants to meet other birthmothers, see other women walking with their adopted children. She has no interest in being in the company of these other women. My work in adoption and my identification with the adoptee community is wildly uncomfortable for her. She does not want to hear about my plans to visit the orphanage. I am not an orphan to her.  She is not an intrusive person, so it just makes sense she wants us to have our alone time and rest without her.  Further rationality ensues when I know I will probably be grateful she isn’t on top of me.  Our room will be a safe cool haven for the long hot days that I will be out and about. Jetlag has no predictable pattern so my kids will be up at all weird hours.  I will want to walk around in my pajamas and not have to worry about her comfort.

The heart is not so rational.  It starts to worry and mild panic begins.  This may be the last time I see her.  The next time I go to Korea will be when she is sick or dying or dead.  I am not typically a pessimist, just haven’t figured out how to turn my skin right side out so the tougher part is shielding my heart from disappointment, rejection, silence, apathy and so little time to cultivate a happy memory of her.  I am anticipating the end before I have begun.  What if this is the last time I see her? The little girl has not caught up with this grown woman.  Almost twenty years in reunion and I am still stuck in a time warp.

This will all go by so fast.  May my feet stay on the ground long enough to keep me tethered to the present.

20 years, 10 days

Young Jin, Soo Mi, Sang Hoon, Yong Hoon, Il Nam, Won Chan…

I’m going to Korea.  Two weeks and the countdown has begun.  The gifts have been purchased, made and assembled.  The packing still needs to be done.  A good friend just moved her entire home, surely, I can pack our life for a ten day trip!  I’m nervous, excited, anxious and really hoping that everyone will enjoy this trip.  The boys will be old enough to remember and make memories of their own.  I hope the seed of good will be planted so they will want to make this exodus again and again.

This trip was made possible by a cooking contest run by Also-Known-As.  Who knew my culinary skills in Korean fare would win me a ticket to Korea?!  I am pleased to inform that I have mastered yet another great dish since then but all the while creating a list of food I want to eat in Korea.  Another adoptee I haven’t seen in over a decade just recently asked me, what’s on my list of things to eat?  Very important question.  A chuckle came over me because inside, I knew, only another adoptee would ask such a question.  Of course it was all street food, poor man’s food, I like to call it.  I want to eat my way through Seoul.

A casual remark by George reminded me that I am going back to Korea 20 years from the time I first went alone, with two large suitcases, to my orphanage to do some “good work” and came back a changed person permanently.  It has been 20 years since I last saw some of the people I mentioned above, my orphanage siblings – children then.  Some of them have stayed in touch, others I will see for the first time since we last said goodbye.  Some married, had children, some not yet.  All of them, grown ups.  None are connected to their first families and are connected to each other like family with their shared experience of being an “orphanage kid.”  As is the usual case, I call one and then what follows is a series of phone calls or emails from others.  This time, Kakaotalk is the medium and Hangul the language of choice.  20 years has made my Korean much more user friendly and I can’t wait to see them all, their spouses and their children.  The central point of meeting is the Lotte Hotel.  I am anticipating many late night lobby gatherings.

My Umma will be with me.  She is coming to stay with us while we are in Seoul.  I got the biggest room possible for all of us to be together.  It has been over three years since I last saw her.  I call her pretty regularly now.  She is retired from working at the hospital as an aide and depends on my brother financially and they remain just the two together.  She takes aquatic classes, watches a ton of TV, sees some friends and goes to church.  She says she is well.  I will see for myself.  She got a phone line in her apartment now, so I am guessing things are looking up.  It strikes me funny that this reads like I know her now.  What an ordinary list of things to say about one’s mother, right?  Well…then, there is this thought too – I will not be visiting her home, I will not get to see her living arrangements.  I never do.  So yes, we are still working on our relationship 19 years later.  It will be good to see Umma.  But, I am anxious to see my brother.  I can’t wait really.  I just want a big hug from him.

Truth is, since I won that free ticket to Korea, I have been planning for this trip.  Months and months of thinking about and preparing for just 10 days.  The anticipation is at fever pitch right now.  Trying to tamp down my expectations but really really happy all at once.  I am going to Korea to see family, my family.  This is a family reunion.

I am seriously hoping Umma will babysit the boys so that George and I can take in Korea for some evening fun.  I don’t easily associate Korea with “fun.”  I have never gone to just be in Korea.  So, I guess what I am looking forward to the most is to walk around and be ALL IN.  This time, there is no reason in the world for me to be anywhere else.

Picking

Sigh, summer is over.  School has officially begun in my town and while the heat is hardly abating, there is no denying the end of summer.  The only saving grace is that the mosquitoes will follow suit.  My boys got lots of bites this year.  It was the first year they were very aware of the bites and picked at them and scratched to their woeful content.  Not trying to be gross, but I think it is one of the rites of passage as a kid enjoying a great summer, picking at mosquito bites hardly waiting for them to scab over.  My legs are still scarred from a few that were so hard to resist.

Where am I going with this?  I have a picking issue that has not earned its grown up wings and flown away.  I can’t resist picking at the media and their constant promotion of celebrities and their becoming adoptive parents.  I accept our obsession with celebrities and their babies.  The entire world has been ‘baby-bump’ watching Prince William and Kate Middleton the second they gave their second kiss on the balcony on their wedding day.  Celebs and their babies are big business.  I get it, I get the fascination.  I will admit to snatching a peek at People magazines piled up in my waiting room.  I know their existence is one reason a few of my clients come early to sit and take it all in.

I just wish when a celebrity adopted a child, it was done a bit differently…a bit less heroic.  Let’s face it, they are creating family just like everyone else.  It is a selfish narcissistic desire, itch if you will, to become a parent.  But I keep getting that nitpicky sensation whenever I see another White celebrity holding a child of color in their arms.  I especially have a hard time with it when I know they are not adopting their child in the same way other adoptive parents are adopting their babies.  They aren’t doing group sessions with other prospective adoptive parents.  They aren’t trudging all over town laboring over the paperwork.  They are the ones getting the expedited, private, totally non-transparent process.  That bothers me.  What bothers me more is when a couple flagrantly bypasses regulations I know to be deal breakers for the typical adopting parent.  Say, for example, the three year marriage rule for Korea.  I have worked in the Korean adoption program, I have colleagues and friends who have worked in this program too and this rule of being married three years is hard and fast.  I know I am picking at something pointless.  And I know People magazine is hardly THE source for accurate information.  But if a wedding is flashed all over their pages and the next year, they are adopting a child from Korea.  I start picking and nitpicking.

When that same couple now is being honored for an Angel in Adoption from the Congressional Coalition on Adoption, I am being super picky!  I remember when the CCAI was CCA and the whole Angels in Adoption was created.  The lists of honoraries have been eye-roll worthy and I never coveted an Angel myself.  I am hardly the type to be invited to something next to people like Bruce Willis and Muhammed Ali.  But that’s ok, I am not sure why they are honored either.  There is no real write up on the website about why these people are getting honored but only for their raising “awareness of children without homes” or making “contributions in the field of adoption and foster care.”  How are they doing this when they are being so mute about their charitable giving?  Again, I am picking.  Now, I know that famous people are wonderfully effective for shining a light on issues of dire importance.  But when the only thing we hear about is that they adopted a child, I hardly find that worthy of such accolades.  Donating to the agency that gave them their baby doesn’t count.  Not even if that money gives a single mother in Korea a chance to parent her children or a mixed raced child a fighting chance to go to school.

I also think that showering such honor to people who adopt a child is an insult to the those others who are working in the field of adoption, family preservation, research and advocacy.  There is nothing on the Angels in Adoption website homepage on those organizations.  Not as glamourous, but I believe it far more noteworthy.

So, here’s to the MN Center for Advanced Studies on Child Welfare and others like them getting Angels this year but not mentioned aloud.  It is an honor for the likes of Katherine Heigl, Ne-Yo and People to be in YOUR presence.  Drink lots, look pretty, mingle with the fancy people and bask in the light that will shine on all your hard work for one evening!