Quantum Leaps and Recovery

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March 9, 2019, Gyeom-myon, South Korea-

Friday, March 8, 2019 was the day that barely happened, in my world.  I crossed the International Date Line, right at Midnight, thus throwing me into- today.  We landed at  Seoul Incheon International Airport, about eight hours later.  Amazingly, I got a blessed seven hours of sleep , whilst on board the flying city that is a trans-oceanic flight.

The short hop to Busan, from Incheon, ended on a disconcerting note:  My checked luggage had been detained there, for some sort of “further inspection”.  I was assured that nothing was found amiss, and that the bags would be delivered to Aram’s in-laws’ address, which is where we will be staying, during and immediately after tomorrow’s wedding.

With that, I finished clearing Customs, at Gimhae International Airport, then joined Aram and Yunhee to head to their apartment in the Marine City section of the large port, South Korea’s second largest city.  I took a brief rest, and after catching up on the past several months, we sat down and planned the itinerary for the next several days.  I also caught up on life in the U.S., and learned, to my dismay, that my last surviving maternal uncle had passed away, not long before my flight from Phoenix to Los Angeles had departed.  I will miss his stories and the twinkle that was always in his eyes.

 

We set out for the lovely country home of Yunhee’s parents, arriving around 4 p.m.  The brief rest stop at Saman yielded these first photos of the Korean countryside.  This highway rest stop has many of the amenities associated with similar concourses in North America and  in Europe.  It also has a small exercise area, with rudimentary simple machines, for limbering.  The bridge connects nearby housing areas with the Rest Area, so that locals can walk and enjoy the shops and restaurants.  The covered shrine-like buildings are for people to enjoy picnic lunches or to just sit and meditate.

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Korea has changed much, since we last lived here as a family, in 1992.  I look forward to re-visiting some of the areas we treasured, and to see a few new places, as well.  Tomorrow, my beloved son and daughter-in-law will sanctify their civil marriage.  Stay tuned!

Stirring

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November 16, 2017, Prescott-

Today marks the fortieth anniversary of my first day as a full-time educator.  The two-year stint, in a rural area of central Maine, was far from my finest tour of duty, but it was a start.  People there would not remember me fondly, but they may as well know that most of my demons have been cast.

On another note, I have been in touch with my son, regarding the earthquake in P’ohang, South Korea, about two hours drive from his city of Busan.  He’s fine, as is his girlfriend.  I follow such things with alacrity, however, as any parent would.

I am feeling stirrings of outrage, at the ruling allowing imports of elephant parts from Zimbabwe and Zambia, by trophy hunters.  This is too obvious a ploy to let well-connected slaughter tourists have their way.  There should be no more pretense that this helps conserve species.

Then, there is the “accidental” spill of thousands of gallons of crude oil, from the Keystone Pipeline, in northeastern South Dakota.  Wow, who saw that coming?

Both parties, and all points on the political spectrum, have personages who have abused women;  no surprise here either.  Ego knows no ideology.  At least, a few people, Sen. Franken and Louis CK, are willing to take their lickings.  Many more, myself included, have had to undergo a considerable measure of emotional growth, in this regard.  In my case, it’s been a very lengthy process, though I have not, once, forced my attentions on anyone or sought to avoid responsibility for making anyone uncomfortable.  We have made some progress as a society, but not treating people as objects is an area of several segments and one in which each of us must take a measure of responsibility-whether it means changing our attitudes, or encouraging others to change theirs.

So, it’s been a full day, of wide-ranging stirrings in my psyche.

Game Plans, and Other Inspirations

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February 19, 2017, Prescott-

It’s sunny/overcast, this morning, as is often the case in Prescott, after a day and night of heavy rain.  My phone tells me how things are, weather-wise, in Phoenix, and in Busan, as well as here.  It’s a fine thing to keep tabs on my son’s environment, with the aid of the second frame. Korea is a bit milder than Arizona, at the moment.

We old vets talked of earning one’s keep, and of game plans for our years ahead, at this morning’s breakfast.  I am optimistic, as to my own situation- for the simple reason that I don’t plan on sponging off anyone.  What this means, in practical terms, is that I will, as I’ve said a few times, work full-time until either December, 2020 or May, 2021, then take a couple of years for personal pursuits, helping my son with his efforts and traveling- in a mix of discovery and service.  After that, if health allows, I would be glad to return to service-related work, such as I am now doing.  TIME Magazine, in this week’s edition, posits that elders will need to consider several “retirements”, interspersed with work, unless/until infirmity sets in.  I am pretty much covered, thanks to my late wife’s foresight and our son’s personal vow, in the event of my own infirmity.

Children inspire me, first and foremost.  Besides those with whom I work, day to day, there are little souls, incidental to my life, the thought of whom lifts my spirits.  There are my grandnieces and grandnephews, looking out at me from the side of my refrigerator, and whose exploits are regularly relayed by their proud grandparents, my siblings.  The little neighbour kids, brother and sister, bring me to my picture window, whenever I hear their voices and the wheels of their mini-vehicles, from the alley across the way. There are 5-year-old “Boo”, my surrogate granddaughter, in Nevada; her age mate, “B”, in Juneau; the now 11 and 12-year- old sisters from Belgium, who were just full of mischief, three years ago, when we were in a dining car restaurant, in Bastogne; the spirited middle schoolers from Koln, Germany, who enlisted my help in a “take home” exam, in Brussels’ Grande Place, during that same cross-Atlantic jaunt; my nearly 13-year-old sponsoree, “I”, working diligently at his studies, in the Philippines; countless youngsters who have weighed in on matters great and small, in chance encounters during my travels.

The other main source of inspiration is human resilience, which I see every day, in people of all ages and backgrounds.  My cross-town friend, “M”, toughed out some very lean years, as a single parent, before finally arriving at a place of stability.  My cross-country friend, “K”, slept many nights, God-knows-where, before getting her own apartment, finding an honest means of living and a man who loves her.  A once-homeless man, whom some of you may remember from my posts of 2014-15, now has a steady income and reason to get up every morning and smile.

I believe in the Law of Attraction, and its eleven related laws, as surely as I believe that the Arizona sun will dispel any clouds, no matter how thick they may seem.