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Sunday, December 31, 2006

Happy New Year

Here in Pusan we have about an hour and 20 minutes left in 2006, so I thought I would get on the Roblog and shake things up a bit.

First, I hope you like the new format. I'm afraid I lost some bits that I liked. All of my links are gone now. I will put them back eventually. I'm using the new Blogger software, so it's supposed to be easier to edit the way Roblog looks. It looks to be true so far, though I haven't rolled up my sleeves yet to really get into it.

I just put Maxine to bed. It took her around 30 minutes to get to sleep, which is a bit long for her. Usually she is snoring within 20 minutes of lights out. Tonight she tossed and turned, tumbled and mumbled, played with her pacifier, and held on to my finger a bit before going to sleep. Her latest trick is to lay face down, plant her forehead on the mattress, and walk her feet towards her head, pushing her butt into the air. While doing this, she waves her hands in the air or grabs her legs or my finger. I swear this baby is ready to be a yoga instructor. I would love to post a picture of this, but she mostly does it at bed time, and the last thing I want to do is flash a camera at her or turn on the lights. When she does it during the day, it's never long enough to get a shot of, and we are afraid that this is one of those tricks that will disappear into the hazy mists of memory.

And so it goes on the Roblog, along with all of my whining.

One advantage of leaving Korea is that Horyon will be very unlikely to be put in charge of a high school Enlgish newspaper club in America. Right now she is editing articles for her sixth English newspaper. (As she pointed out, that means that I have also corrected six papers worth of articles. I had no idea this marriage would be so much work!) The students in her club write articles, usually in Korean and English, as well as choosing or taking pictures to put with them. Some of the articles are actually a little bit coherent as the students have written them, but many are not. And for every newspaper there are one or two articles that are so badly written that they are painful to read. I swear, last year I was reading one and I almost fell out of this dimension into a world populated by large, walking, talking soju bottles.

As usual, Horyon is doing the first editing pass on the articles, then I go through making them get there more perfect Englishly. It's a good gig, as I have many opportunities to slip in clever innuendos and scatological references which not even Horyon can catch. You would be surprised at how few Koreans realize that "pinching off a loaf" and "they enjoyed her buns" are not appropriate phrases to use in an article about baked goods.

So that's what Horyon is working on as the new year approaches. She has already printed up some for me to check, but I am following my motto: "Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?"

It looks like I will not be teaching an extra class at Kyungsung University in January. I'm a bit sad, because I taught a similar class last summer and loved it. It was an academic writing class for Kyungsung students who were going to Turkey as exchange students for a semester. Unfortunately, they only have one student for the coming semester, and the school doesn't want to pay me $30 an hour to make sure that they don't look like a complete idiot when they turn in their first paper.

I realized that it's been a while since I wrote about Maxine's progress in life, so here's a general update:

She still doesn't talk much. She says "amma" and "appa" (Korean for "mommy" and "daddy", respectively), but still doesn't seem to connect saying those words to us yet. I say "seem to" because in as much as one can ever know what's happening in another person's head, I have absolutely no idea what's going on in Maxine's head. It does seem to me that this shows a gap between listening and speaking, because she can understand very well. When asked, "Where is mommy?" in English or Korean, she points right to Horyon, or a picture of her if she's not there. She can do the same for daddy in both languages. "Grandpa", "Grandma" and "Handsome Uncle Youngwhan" are very solid in Korean, a bit shaky in English. She also has a pretty good handful of other vocabulary in both languages, though her Korean vocabulary is larger than her English.

All of this is somewhat expected if you do any reading on bilingualism in children. (You see, that Master's degree that I didn't get wasn't a complete waste of time!) Horyon was still a bit annoyed when a woman at church pointed out that Maxine doesn't talk as much as other children her age, and maybe something is wrong with her?

Yes, we are starting to personally discover the "mother bear defending her cubs" thing is true.

Back to Maxine. She has been walking for some time now, and running, too. When we visited J. and Sujin after Thanksgiving, Maxine had a great time with Maya and J. Jr. running around their house. It's one of those houses that has hallways and doorways that make a circuit through the house. Round and round and round she goes, where she stops, nobody knows.

She enjoys shredding paper, tissues and the like, with occasional bits going into the mouth. She seems to have slowed down a bit on putting stuff in her mouth, but it certainly hasn't stopped yet.

She likes it when we read to her. Her favorite book from Horyon is "Boyinda boya!" ("Hide and Seek"). From me, she likes "Goodnight Moon", but her favorite is "Moo, Baa, La la la". I can rattle off the latter without even looking at the pages, but "Goodnight Moon" is not quite memorized. Yet. I'm pretty sure I remember all the stuff in the great green room, but darned if I can get it all in the right order.

She likes tangerines. Give her a tangerine segment and she will carry it around, getting juice all over everything, and slowly eating it. Give her a whole tangerine, and she will peel it herself. Sometimes fairly neatly, sometimes by plunging a thumb deep into it and just tearing it apart.

This Christmas Horyon's parents gave Maxine a singing Satan Claus. It moves around waving a bell while playing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" at an obnoxiously loud volume, even after putting tape over the speaker holes. (That's right. The "Satan" wasn't a typo.) Well, it used to move around. Now the base moves around, but Santa has become somewhat... detached from the whole thing. And so I present for you a brief photo essay entitled, "Santa had better watch out!":

You'd better watch out!

For this little girl!

She'll grab hold of Santa

and rock his little world!Ma-axine is coming, to town!

She totally busted up that Santa, dude.

The New Year has come, ushered in by a kiss from my wife. She stopped working long enough for that, but no champaign. Bummer.

Horyon's sister, Chaeryon, is in town for a while. As soon as she got off the plane, her father suggested coming to meet Maxine. So she did. Yeah, it was after 10 p.m., past Maxine's bedtime. And I'm sure that Chaeryon was tired after all that flying. But hey, this is Maxine we're talking about! How could she wait one more night?

Somehow Chaeryon manages to look better after a transatlantic flight than I look before I start one.

Maxine likes Chaeryon, but doesn't recognize her as "Eemo" (young aunt) yet. We'll keep working on it.

We're down to about two months left in Korea. The visa paperwork has started flowing, though at typical government work pace. We're talking about packing, and deciding what to take and leave. I've asked my Dad to keep an eye out for a minivan that we can buy through him. Horyon started worrying about the whole thing months ago, I have already made serious progress in putting off getting ready, and Maxine is just cruising along, completely unaware that we are about to completely change her world. Isn't that what parents are for?



Saturday, December 30, 2006

Moving Numbers

I'm starting this entry on September 27th, but don't plan to publish it until this semester is finished. It could cause problems if any of my students managed to hunt it down, understand it, and apply it to their course work. And as much of a pain in the ass as that would be for them, some of them would rather do that than actually do the work required to get a good grade without cheating.

Cheating has always made me angry. I will admit that I did cheat once or twice in university ("college", for those of you who speak American). Without getting into the sordid details, I'll just say that I had a very geeky calculator that had some memory available for storing variables, programs, formulas, etc. I honestly can't remember whether I had to did into any of those formulas, but I definitely did the rest of the work the hard way. And I had a sneaking suspicion that the engineering profs didn't care what you had on your calculator, as long as you knew what you were doing with it.

So perhaps I'm a bit hypocritical, now that the shoe is on the other foot. But there are definitely degrees of cheating, and what I'm seeing takes things to an extreme degree. You see, I am using a program called Moodle to enrich my courses. Moodle is an Internet-based Learning program. My main uses are

1) handouts, because with 250+ students, it's a pain for me to do photocopies. This way they each download and print. All I have to do is have it up on the website the morning of class.

2) on-line quizzes, so that students have a chance to practice and apply what we studied in class, to prepare for the test and keep the material reasonably fresh in their minds

3) passing information, such as canceled classes, reminders of assignments, etc.

Uses 1 and 3 are fine, but the quizzes... The students who took my Present Continuous (PC) Quiz on the first day got pretty low grades, many of them in the 50-60% range, and took the entire 15 minutes to get that. Oddly enough, some of the students who took the same quiz the next day took a minute and a half to get 90%.

I smelled a rat.

My current solution is that their on-line quiz grade will be automatically adjusted down to meet their in-class test/quiz grades.

There. The semester is finished, it's the end of December, and I know how the whole thing turned out:

I decided that adjusting quiz grades to match the written test grade would be too much trouble, and maybe not fair. Instead, I minimized the impact of the quizzes on their grade. Each quiz was worth about 1.5% of their total grade. Not enough to worry about the cheaters, when the written test was worth 25%.

The problem came when I exported the data from the website and tried to import it to my grading spreadsheet. The Moodle would only export as Excel files, and my spreadsheet is Corel's Quattro Pro. It's an excellent spreadsheet, and I've been using it for years. Which may be the problem. The version I'm using was current a decade ago. And I don't use Excel at all, relying instead on's spreadsheet, Calc.

Oh, by the way, if you are not interested in computer stuff, you might want to skip the rest of this post, if you haven't already fallen asleep.

I ended up opening the Excel files with Calc, and then saving them in Calc as Quattro files. It was then quite easy to move the data into the correct sheet.

But when I tried to juggle the numbers, I got some funny results. 11.38 looked fine on the sheet, but when I tried to divide it by 14 and multiply by 100 to get the percentage, it came out zero. All of them came out zero.

I figured maybe it was a mistake in my lookup formulas.

No. They worked fine.

I went back to the data page and typed in 11.38 again over the top of the original 11.38.

Boom. Out pops 81%. The rest of the scores are still saying zero, but the one I typed in manually is working fine.

That suggests one solution: type in all the scores. But here's the thing: I am sitting next to a machine that can do 902,000,000 calculations per second. That's why I'm not adding up numbers on a piece of paper using a calculator as a mental crutch. There's already a mental U-Haul sitting on the desk, and all I have to do is figure out why the gears don't engage.

Those of you who use computers probably have some idea of how this story turns out.

Technical Explanation: Instead of exporting the files from Calc, I copied and pasted the numbers. This made them appear to Quattro as numbers, rather than the labels which it original thought they were. ("Why is this a problem?" is not nearly as important as the "How do I fix it?" to me, so don't ask why!)

Real World Impact Explanation: I spent more time figuring out how to solve the problem than it would have taken to type in all the numbers by hand. And if I had known this would be a problem, I could have paid one of my assistants to type it in by hand. This is how Horyon would interpret the results.

To me, however, the more numbers I put in by hand, the more likely I am to make a mistake. Also, I am now aware of this glitch, and will be able to recognize it and do something about it in the future. True, I will probably not remember the details of how to solve the problem, but the mental pathway will still be there. I will also be able to recognize similar problems, and deal with them, too.

Our grades were due on Thursday. Earlier in the week I was worried that I might accidentally finish on Wednesday, but as it turns out I had nothing to worry about. I left my office Thursday night around 11:00 p.m. I didn't have to do much number juggling to get the right balance of A's, B's, C's and etc.'s, and when I left my office mate, Dennis, was still working. Score!

Actually, for me finishing at 11 p.m. is early, but that's another post. Something from the archives. Check back later, I'll see if I can hunt it down.

In the mean time, you can read about what we were going through back in November 2003 righ here. I got a chuckle or two out of re-reading it. Hope you do, too. You might also enjoy this from April 2002. Just after starting the ill-fated Master's Degree. Ugh.



Wednesday, December 27, 2006

December Wrap-Up

This morning I had breakfast with Maxine. First time since November. This month was rough. December is the month of final exams for me. Usually my students sign up for 8 minute appointments and ask me questions pertaining to the topic I give them on the spot. These topics have ranged from my vacation plans to what I do in my free time to how I met Horyon. It's fun, but exhausting. My first year at Kyungsung I had almost 350 students. I don't know how I did it without killing any of them. Or myself.

So this year I decided to back off a bit. I had only 250 students (ONLY???), and I had them sign up for 10 minute appointments in pairs. It lowered my testing time from 3.5 hours to about 2.5 hours per day. That one hour makes a big difference, but the bigger difference comes from the students working together.

In each class we worked up a list of conversation topics. In some classes it was only 8 or 9, but one class came up with two dozen, all approved by me. Each pair of students had to choose six topics to bring to their appointment. At the beginning of their ten minutes I rolled a die, choosing one of the six topics. They were to then have a conversation (with each other, not me) about that one topic for the rest of the ten minutes.

Of course, many of them prepared and memorized conversations, which was fine. But I was really grading them on how well they did once they were winging it. My role was usually to jump into the conversation and make some waves, see how they reacted. It was an interesting way to grade, and it required less mental exertion from me. It would have been the most relaxing final exam season ever except for one small thing: I had an extra class.

The extra class was made up of high school students who are about to graduate and start university. I was under the initial impression that they were students who were particularly interested in studying English. That impression was squashed like a python under a two ton weight.

The class was for university credits, and I was to grade it Pass/Fail. Out of 30 students, 16 passed. Pretty lame. My only demand was that they come to class on time. More than five minutes late, and I counted them absent (though they could still be present for the second hour of class). No real grades. No homework. I expected them to work in class, writing conversations, taking notes, all that crazy stuff teachers expect students to do, but without attaching a grade to any of it.

I must have been out of my freakin' gourd.

I'm used to teaching freshmen. I know that the first few classes are largely devoted to getting them to come on time, be quiet, and pay attention. In this class, some of them never got it. It was tiring, and made me look forward to my afternoon exams. I was paid well for it, and I suppose it was worth the money, but it gave me something I didn't really want or need: another reason to leave Korea.

It also reminded me of one reason I have stayed so long: the students who want to learn. There were about half a dozen students who were serious about the class. In a regular class they would have gotten A's and B's from me. In this class, they were the sanity check. They paid attention when I corrected their work. They seemed to learn from it! They were even willing to try working with me sitting next to them, coaching and encouraging them, rather than staring blankly and saying "English very difficult."

The point, from which I have once again strayed an unforgivable difference, was that this extra class was from 10 to 12 a.m. for the three weeks before Christmas. Until December, I had spent my mornings with Maxine. She usually woke up around six, demanding to get that special treat that only mommy can provide. She then went back to sleep in our bed, between Horyon and me. Horyon would get up, shower, have breakfast, and do all that morning stuff women do, then leave for work before Maxine woke up. We would sleep until eight or nine, then kick around for an hour or two until Horyon's father came to pick up Maxine.

I have to admit that I am not the best of company just after waking up. If that were our only time together, Maxine might grow up thinking that I only communicate in grunts and harumphs. Still, I manage to wake up enough to change a diaper or two, get breakfast into Maxine, and perhaps play with those crazy little stackable cups that she has. (It's so cool the way you can fit the small ones into the big ones but not vice versa.)

So in December we didn't get to do that. We basically woke up at 8, had about half an hour to get used to being awake, then Grandpa would come and take Maxine away. It has caused her attitude towards me to cool somewhat. When she's fussy, she doesn't want me, and sometimes runs away from me to get to Horyon. I can't believe how heartbreaking this can feel, even though she is fine with me at bedtime or when Horyon is behind a closed door for more than a couple of minutes.

It's a lot like when we first got married. Before we got married, things were almost always completely positive between us. But the stress of living with someone new, especially someone you love, can bring out the worst in anyone. As can menstruation, lack of sleep, job stress, or any number of other factors. And during that first year I had to learn to deal with the pain of the occasional sharp remark. I have gotten somewhat used to it. It was inevitable that I would, because my personality could try the patience of a saint under the right circumstances. For example, if I have a long-term project with a deadline.

Of course, it helps that Horyon and I can talk about our relationship and feelings. She always apologizes for hurting me, and has gained some control over the impulses to do so. But Maxine and I can't really talk about our relationship. She is only just starting to realize that other people have needs, much less feelings. And so I swallow the disappointment or talk with Horyon about it. In the mean time, I try to make it very clear to Maxine that I am always available to come back to, that I will always love her.

And there, right there, that's the problem with blogging about something like being a father for the first time. At times it is so overwhelming that the best words, the closest analogies, all seem inadequate to express what's going on in my head and heart. The best I can hope for is to stir a memory in the minds of the parents who read this. And for the not-yet-parents, like I used to be, or the never-parents, I suspect it's like reading an article about skydiving, or climbing Mt. Everest; you just can't get it, but I hope you can catch a glimpse of it.

In case I don't manage to get back on before Monday, I hope that you all bring in the New Year well. Maxine slept last night without waking up once. My sole hope for 2007 is that she continues this trend.



Thursday, December 14, 2006

More Soju Talk

When I read my friend Aubrey's blog post, Friendly Soju Bottles, I felt an immediate need to write a post of my own, Soju and Me. This was in part because just a few days previously I had posed for a picture with a friendly soju bottle, and partly because I disagreed with her about the gender of soju. Aubrey wrote a rather long comment on my post, which you may have missed. And so I offer to you her comment, together with my responses.

I love that you responded like that to my blog! But I also disagree. Firstly, I did get a picture with the soju bottle (we just have to figure out how to get it off her phone); he made Jen and I give him kisses on his cheeks.

Ah, yes. The picture. I am still waiting to see the picture, not that I have any doubt that this encounter happened.

Note the use of "he." Because soju is a he.

(1) The smell is of paint thinner or some sort of industrial strength solvent. It's so primal and manly, like a guy who's out in his garage.

I would like to apologize to all of our female readers out there who are capable of fixing cars and doing other "manly" things. True, men are more likely to be engaged in this sort of activity, but it is hardly definitive of "male". I'm not sure how I feel about the link between "primal" and "manly", but I'll leave that alone for now.

(2) Soju strong arms itself into a relationship, showing up at every meal and in every sort of juice. He's pushy. Not in a whiny sort of way, but rather one that assumes there's already a depth of relationship and he's entitled to you.

Once again, I would like to apologize to our female readers who happen to not be whiny. I am sure that Aubrey did not intend to imply that "whiny" is strictly a female characteristic. I have found that my male students are every bit as likely to whine as my female students. And it is not my experience that "pushy" is a strictly female trait, for that matter.

I also disagree with the characterization of soju strong arming itself into relationships (which is, incidentally, not an exclusively male behavior). If you go to an establishment in which soju is available, you will know. There are posters, perhaps a calendar. The menu may have pictures of a soju bottle, for our illiterate friends. Attractive packaging. Does that sound more male or female? But it is not automatically served anywhere. Not even in places that specialize in soju and the foods that are served with it. You still have to ask for it.

It is not water. If you want water, all you have to do is ask. If you want soju, you must be willing to pay the price. Perhaps I am taking my turn at playing the stereotype card, but this sounds female to me.

(3) All Korean men will put their arms around each other. But they don't kiss, at least not in public. Our soju bottle demanded kisses from the ladies. Sorry Rob, but soju is definitely male.

You don't see men and women kissing in public, either (here in Korea, that is). Does that mean that they don't? (That's some kind of odd logic pretzel there, isn't it?) And just to clarify, was it a kiss on the cheek, or a kiss on the lips? Because cheek kissing man-to-man and woman-to-woman is very continental. Perhaps soju is going for the international flavor?

OK, I know that I'm grasping at straws on this point, but I refuse to give up the battle. The fact is, you didn't mention the kiss in your original blog post, so I'm kind of winging it. I did not attempt to kiss my soju bottle, and neither did she attempt to kiss me. I just assumed that she noticed my wedding ring.

I think that your misconception comes in part from the association soju has with its bottle. Like most bottles, it is somewhat... longer than it is wide. However, soju, however closely associated with the bottles it comes in, simply is not the bottle it comes in. And so, with tongue firmly in cheek, I take my last shot, fully aware that Horyon may cause me physical harm after reading this:

Soju is served in short glasses. Beer is served in tall glasses.
Korean women are generally short. Korean men are generally tall (compared to their women).

Here are some more things to consider:

1. Anthropomorphizing is foolish. Why do we let soju goad us on like this?
2. My arguments are more poetic than yours.
3. Makeup. Look at the soju picture in my post. Are those eyebrows the untamed growth of the male, or the finely sculpted, mostly painted on decoration of the female?
5. Fashion. Look at the shoes on that soju bottles. Granted, in American culture they would indicate a clown, but in Korea they are definitely girly shoes.

However, in the end none of these factors matter as much as this:

6. Perhaps soju can be all things to all people, invalidating both of our arguments. Is it possible that soju is the RuPaul of Korean alcoholic beverages?

Is it possible that I need more sleep?

Tune in next week for the answers to these, and other questions. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.



Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Some Interesting Web Sites

I don't know about you, but I enjoy the Internet from time to time. There is some pretty fun stuff out there, but sometimes it can get to be too much. I was pretty relieved to find a link to
the cure for information overload.. Had to dig a bit for it, but it was well worth it. I was amused with the link to it from the Jedi Librarian, so I had to include that, too.

I also like music. One blog I was looking at the other day steered me towards The Music Genome Project. The link I've given here is actually the practical result of that project, a very fine-tuned internet radio station. You tell it songs you like, and it plays other songs that are like it. Sounds like some other internet radio stations, especially Yahoo's. At Yahoo Music you can give a zero to five star rating for artist, song and album. I'm not sure how they connect things, but they suggest some pretty good stuff. Unfortunately, they have to make money, so they also suggest crap, sometimes things that made me cringe. That's fine from time to time if you like to have your horizons expanded in odd directions. I figure that if ten songs are suggested to me out of the blue and I don't like nine of them, number ten might be a serious winner.

But sometimes I don't want those kind of odds. Plus Yahoo music plays ads between some songs. Annoying ads. You can get rid of them if you pay for it, but I am cheap.

Pandora is different. For starters, it's free. You have to register, but so far I haven't been spammed or anything. They say on the site that eventually the free version will have ads, but it doesn't have them yet. You can set up 100 different stations if you like, though I only have two so far. My computer at work is too lame to play this, but it tended to get logjammed on the Yahoo Music, too.

Anyway, I highly recommend giving it a shot if you've got a full-time internet connection, you like music, and you love the idea of categorizing songs the same way biologists categorize life. These people are more serious about their music than I am, and I enjoy that sort of obsessiveness from time to time.

And at this time of year it's a good way to pipe in some Christmas music. I've got a station programed with a wide variety of artists. I've labeled it "Christmas with Rob". You can't go to it yourself, but I can email you a link to it, if you're interested. Just send me an email, and I will do so.

Next link: On the right side of this page I have a link to Natalie D. I really enjoy her little drawings, though some of them have naughty words (Belgium!), and a few of them are sort of out of my reach, like the Far Side used to be. She also has a site that she does with her husband called Married to the Sea. (The site is Married to the Sea. Her husband is called Drew. Just in case anyone needed clarification there.) Drew also has his own website with an amusing comic, but not amusing enough for me to link to here. But this MttS is something else. They take very old illustrations and put their own captions with them. Once again, the language gets pretty naughty in about half the strips, so don't just buzz over there and show it to your kids.

The internet is also an awesome place to get a new hobby. Roblogging is pretty cool I guess, but I've got my eyes on a better prize, Destroying the Earth. If you are like me, and think it's about time this planet got what's coming for it, you may want to check out this site. It is actually a serious (well, scientifically rigorous anyway) forum on methods for doing away with this planet we call home. Not destroying humanity (too easy!) or wiping out all life on Earth (piece of cake!), but actually doing away with the planet itself. If this sounds like not such a big deal to you, I suggest you take a look at this site, because whoever actually manages the job has some serious planning to do. And this is the place to start.

For what it's worth, if you click the link at the top of his page, you will find other things of interest. His fiction is not too bad, and his games are quite interesting. I haven't looked at everything there, but it's worth spending a bit of time.

For word processing, it is hard to beat It can work with all of Microsoft Office's documents, as well as many others. It gives me great joy to use it for two reasons:

#1 It is free. No money needed. Download and use. Register if you like, but you don't need to. Send a donation if you like, but there is no pressure to do so. It is free, free, free. And unlike many free things, you get much more than you pay for. Probably because of #2.

#2 It is not shoveling money towards Microsoft. In fact, it is openly opposing the monopolistic policies of Microsoft. If you use computer documents at all, you are either aware of how widespread MSOffice is, or unaware of it because you just assume that there is nothing else out there. MS makes it difficult for other programs to access documents created by their software.

It's a big issue in some circles, but to me the two reasons listed above are as deep into it as I need to get. At their website you can find links to lots more if you want to read up on it.

And last, I would like to leave you with something that makes all the other links on this post look incredibly intelligent: has the most entertaining selection of stuff that you could hope for. Looking for a keychain to tell you exactly how much time President Bush has left in office (assuming no coup)? Want a wall calendar featuring pictures of dog poop? Wacky candy in many odd shapes and flavors? A 1950's style phone handset that plugs into your cell phone? How about a variety of animals that poop candy? I tell you, if this site doesn't have it, it isn't stupid enough for your discerning tastes.

And there are some of my web interests.



Thursday, December 07, 2006

Soju and Me

I have to say, this is in direct response to Aubrey's post.

I didn't just drink the free sample and take the free pen, I put my arm around the soju and embraced her. Aubrey speculated that the giant soju bottle was male. She didn't articulate any specific reasons, though I'm sure there are those who would speculate.

I, however, believe that soju is a woman, for the following reasons:

She makes you feel warm when she comes into your life. Warm and light-headed. She will often cause you to make decisions that your friends do not understand. You laugh and cry more easily, and it often feels like you are walking a few inches or feet above the pavement. Sometimes it bounces quickly between inches and feet.

And yes, she will make you hurt if you are not careful. Do not put too much of yourself into her (or vice versa), or she will leave you suddenly, without warning. Perhaps taking with her your dignity, strength and previous meal.

And so, Aubrey, I contend that soju is female, though definitely not a lady.



p.s. I hardly even noticed the girls in half-skirts that accompanied the soju. Not even hardly at all.

The Gravy of the Missing Giblets

It's Friday. Five days since we returned, and I am just now recouping the energy required to write about our trip to Taegu. We drove to Taegu to visit our friends, Jibraun and Sujin. Horyon and Sujin have been friends since high school. J. (his nickname of choice) and Sujin got married about a month after Horyon and I, and they asked us to be the M.C.s at their wedding. J. and I got along very well,
which made it a disappointment that they moved to the States immediately after their wedding. After staying long enough to have a couple of kids, J. Jr. and Maya, they were posted in Taegu, Korea. They visit Pusan from time to time, as Sujin's family still lives here, but we don't see them often. Family visits are often like that. We visited them in Taegu once. We're not absolutely sure, but Maxine may have been conceived there. In fact, we considered naming her in the "Paris Hilton" tradition, but decided that "Taegu Love Motel" would be a bit of an unwieldy name.

(Sorry, but that's one of those stories that I am physically unable to resist telling whenever I am asked about Maxine's name, and it's about time it got on the Roblog.)

We really enjoyed that visit. J. cooked turkey legs, collard greens and stuffing for us, Maya was just a tiny baby, and we took the train to get there and move on. This time we drove. It was our first time to drive outside of Pusan. We had planned to leave at 10 a.m., so I consider it a smashing success that we were out the door before 11.

We had packed enough clothes for overnight, including some extra Maxine clothes in case she had a toxic diaper spillover. Because we've had a couple of them recently, and sometimes all you can do is hose down the baby and put her in clean clothes. I had to deal with one all by myself. Washing Maxine in the bathroom sink, trying not to get poop all over myself, and Maxine laughing and giggling because this is such a crazy new experience that she can't believe I'm not doing it solely to entertain her.

And that right there could be the beginning of a complete post by itself. Maxine is still so new to the world that it takes very little variety to capture her attention and make her laugh. Horyon will sometimes do a funny little dance while making a weird noise, and Maxine just cracks up, over and over. I can do it, too, but it seems to come naturally to Horyon. The other day Horyon was washing the dishes while wearing fuzzy socks that my parents sent her. Maxine was sitting at her feet, and laughed every time Horyon wiggled her feet.

Back to the story. We packed extra clothes for her, and all the stuff we needed for on overnight stay. Well, almost everything we needed...

The drive went fairly well. Getting out of Pusan was a bit nasty. The traffic jam must have been pretty standard. We passed guys walking along selling snacks, and this on a toll road! I think that the cars behind me were getting a bit upset because I kept trying to leave a safe stopping distance between me and the car in front of me. This meant that cars from the other lane could cut in front of me easily. And so once again I found myself adjusting to Korean style driving: aggressively slow. It was stop and go traffic for about an hour, getting us just barely out of the city limits, then suddenly the road was relatively clear. Yeah, there were still other cars on the road, and lots of them were being driven by morons, but at least we weren't all parked next to each other.

I found that many Korean drivers keep their annoying driving habits even at speeds of more than 60 miles per hour. Cars would pass me and cut into my lane barely a car length in front of me. Scary. Some drivers would drive around 45 mph, and some more than 70. (I'm just guessing about the latter, based on how quickly they passed me.) And of course, lots of drivers talking on their cell phones.

The night before, I had gotten directions from J. Horyon, being the plan-ahead type, also got directions from Sujin. We compared them, and found the minor discrepancies to be just that: minor. We had no trouble for most of the trip, but right around five minutes from the U.S. Military base where they live, we hit a snag. The directions I had said to turn right onto a small street, but we were facing a six-lane road. We turned on to it, and drove until I found a safe place to pull over. Horyon called and consulted with Sujin, then we kept on. Within a minute, I saw a sign in English confirming that we were going the right way. Three minutes later we were at the gate of the base.

For those of you not familiar with U.S. Military bases in Korea, these days the gates are very obviously designed so that it would be impossible to barrel through at high speeds. There are armed Korean guards at the gate, but it doesn't convey the feeling that if you make a wrong move you will be shot. We drove in and told the guard that our friend was coming to let us in, and he gestured for us to pull forward to a small parking area to wait.

We had to jump through a couple of hoops to get on base. Unfortunately, we had some problems. Fortunately, J. solved them, proving once again that it pays to be friendly with the people who carry guns. I'm going to skip the details in the interest of national security.

We had a quick lunch at Taco Bell. And let me tell you, Taco Bell may not be great Mexican food. It may not even be good Mexican food. It might not even qualify as Mexican food in America, but over here it's the best I'm gonna get, and the only places with Taco Bells are U.S. military bases! Like they are so desirable that they require armed soldiers to protect them!

I was surprised at the innovations the Bell has made in combining meat, cheese, flour tortillas and sour cream to make new things. America truly is the land of innovation.

That evening we had turkey for dinner. Missed Thanksgiving by a couple of days, but that's OK. I didn't get to make turkey soup of the carcass, but I told Sujin how to do it, and that was almost as satisfying. Jay had rubbed a spice rub on the bird, and it was delicious. He only made one small mistake: he had pulled the neck out of the body cavity, but somehow missed the little bag with the heart, liver and gizzard. Fortunately, they were buried deep in the neck cavity. I fished them out, and threw them in the gravy.

They were kind enough to allow me to carve, which is how I found the missing giblets. They had also asked if I knew how to make gravy. I am not the gravy king, but I got gravy game when it is needed, and honestly, when is it not?

We had a wonderful afternoon and evening. Maxine loved playing with J. Jr. and Maya, but she especially liked J. Sr. The man has a way with children. When he held Maxine in his arms and talked to her, she was spellbound.
(Notice the way she can't take her eyes off of him!)

That night we stayed in a hotel on the base. J. took me by surprise by paying for the room before we arrived. Actually, it was another case of cung: J. is a very generous man. The hotel room was just the latest act of kindness we have received from him. Whenever they come to Pusan, he offers to purchase items from the military base which are not available in Pusan. At Maxine's birthday party, he brought me a case of root beer, which is pretty much impossible to find on my own. For those of you who like root beer, you will understand. For those of you who don't, it's kind of like crack, only it tastes better and it doesn't make you threaten cops.

I took this picture the next morning in front of the hotel:
I'm telling you that so that you don't get too worried about the events between checking into the hotel and Maxine being cute on a rainy day.

We settled into the hotel with no fuss. The room was big enough and warm enough, and they found a crib for us to use. Maxine took a bit longer to get to sleep than usual, but that's not unusual when she has a busy day with lots of new people and places. It's just hard to settle down, and there is a serious drive to not let it end.

At three a.m. the phone rang. It was not a typical hotel phone, with that annoying electronic beeping ring. This was a military base phone, manufactured with a genuine set of steel bells inside somewhere, under the presumption that if World War Three were to break out you would want to be able to hear your phone ringing over the sound of mortar rounds and machine gun fire. Needless to say, all three of us woke the heck up. Horyon answered the phone and quickly passed it to me.

I spoke to a young man with a crew cut (yeah, I could hear his hair style through the line). He asked if J. had signed us on to the base, and with what kind of pass. I answered his questions honestly, and with as much coherence as I could muster under the circumstances. He told me that he had tried to contact Captain J., but his cell phone was turned off. He also informed me that if the situation was not resolved within 40 minutes or so, someone would be coming around to escort us off of the base.

We called J.'s phone, but as I had heard from the crew-cut gentleman, it was turned off. So we called Sujin's phone. Fortunately, it was not turned off. Because if it had been, I would have had to wander around looking for J.'s house, and I had not a clue as to where it was from the hotel.

J. came and picked me up, and we drove back to the gate. Things were sorted out within 10 minutes. It was J.'s first time escorting overnight visitors, and he had neglected to get a 24 hour pass. No sweat.

Not much, anyway.

By the time I got back to the hotel, Horyon had put Maxine back to sleep. I'm not sure how long it took for me to get back to sleep, or how long I slept until Maxine got us up for the day. All I know is that it was a long day, as was the following week. We treated J. and his family to a fantastic buffet, the details of which I will skip this time, except for one very American exception: it had biscuits and gravy. Oh my, oh my, that was nice. If the price of biscuits and gravy in the morning is a phone ringing in the middle of the night, I'm not absolutely sure that it isn't worth it.

You see, as much as I like Korea, you just can't get a good breakfast here. Go to an international hotel and you pay $10 for a continental breakfast (you should never pay for a continental breakfast on top of what you pay for your hotel room, IMHO) or a lousy pair of fried eggs and toast with a pitiful glass of orange juice. LAME. I don't need to eat breakfast out every day, but once in a while I should be able to have hash browns, eggs, biscuits and gravy, a big glass of juice and coffee. I don't drink coffee often, but with a brefas like that, you need it to stay awake through the morning.

After breakfast we returned to J.'s home. We had all gotten around too late for church that morning, which was a shame. Not only because they have a very lively service, but because it starts at 12:30. We had time for a few more pictures, and some more running around the house. As you can see, J. Jr. really took a liking to Maxine. Is it too early for me to start worrying about suitors? Doesn't matter. I'm not worried about this one. He'll be a fine catch.
We hope to be able to spend a day with J., Sujin, J. Jr. and Maya again soon, but not while we are working. Our first overnight trip was exhausting. I started writing this the following Friday, and it's been a week since then. I am only managing to finish this now by staying up past the hour when a sensible person would have gone to bed.

Goodness, it's a quarter 'till midnight! I fear that I shall turn into a pumpkin!

It doesn't help any that I'm teaching a new class that started this past Monday, as well as testing my regular students. I'm putting in about 20 hours of edumacation per week until Christmas, saving up money to buy the only present that means anything:

Tickets home.

One-way tickets.



Friday, November 24, 2006

Happy Thanksgiving

Well, happy Late Thanksgiving. Even if you're in America it's too late.

I haven't written in so long I decided that I will post tonight. I will write until Horyon says, "Come to bed, then I will finish the sentence I am working on, perhaps the paragraph, spell check and publish.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and we did the usual Westin Chosun Beach Hotel Thanksgiving Buffet with the Kyungsung University foreign faculty. It started at six, which is exactly the time Horyon got off work, so I drove yesterday. I picked Maxine up at Grandpa and Grandma's home, together with Grandpa. He had some time to ride with us and keep her company in the back seat. After dropping Grandpa off, we got to Horyon's school 20 minutes early. I was fairly proud of myself, as the traffic can get quite nasty by six.

My pride lasted about three minutes, which was, by some amazing coincidence, how long it took Maxine to get bored with sitting in her car seat in the parking lot. I moved into the back seat with her, and freed her from her restraints. I expected that like most damsels in distress she would be pleased with me, and perhaps offer me a kiss as a reward. Instead, she cheered up for about one minute, which was how long it took for her to realize that we were not getting out of the car. I offered her a tissue. It took her almost eight minutes to shred it into little pieces, some strips an inch wide, and some just big enough to grasp between her tiny thumb and finger. I allowed her to stand in the seat between me and her car seat. Less than a minute of entertainment there. I turned the dome light on and off, then left it on and waved my hand in front of it. Another fraction of a minute disposed of. The rest of the time was pretty much Maxine crying out loud to escape, and me crying in my mind to escape.

Once Horyon came out, Maxine cheered right up. Horyon showed her off to three or four coworkers who had finished an hour earlier, but waited around just to meet Maxine. Yeah, I'm living with a Diva.

Once we were on our way, Maxine remembered that she was unhappy being in the car, and started crying again. In a way this was satisfying to me, because Horyon was there and unable to make her stop crying. Sometimes Horyon has an effect on Maxine that seems almost magical, and I can't help feeling a bit jealous. Situations like this remind me that my wife is not cheating in any way, and that when she can't pull out her "magic weapons", she is sometimes reduced to my level of comfort-giving: ineffectual.

When we arrived at the hotel and got out of the car, Maxine cheered right up. We had a lovely evening. Maxine wandered around garnering compliments and a free little Teddy Bear from the hotel staff. Horyon and I took turns eating, though there were a few moments when we all ate. I had some steak, cajun chicken, Korean-style beef ribs, raw fish, boiled shrimp, olives (red, green and black, the real thing, not those pimento-stuffed martini jobs you can pick up at Safeway), crab legs, smoked salmon, fried shrimp, a dinner roll with a slice of lovely yet unidentified cheese, grilled tuna, fresh yogurt with a couple of raspberries in it, a little chocolate mouse, some pineapple, a little watermelon, and three or four glasses of wine.

The watermelon wasn't very good. Hardly surprising for November. But the wine was excellent, as was everything else on the menu.

I'm not sure what Horyon ate, but Maxine had some oo-dong (fat noodles), a crunchy bread stick, some crab soup and rice, some fruit, a few spoons of my yogurt, and whatever she picked up off the floor while we weren't looking.

This year there were no speeches, which was nice.

Horyon and I sat with Fernando and his girlfriend. Fernando is actually in the English department at Kyungsung University, whereas I am in the external affairs department. The difference between us is that he majored in English. You see, in America a degree in English is pretty much worthless, but here it gets a salary double what those of us with "useful" degrees earn. Later, Horyon and I agreed that it was a slightly strange conversation evening. I like Fernando, but he doesn't have any sense of humor that I have noticed.

I said to Horyon that I made some joke, but Fernando didn't laugh, proving that he has no sense of humor, because I am freakin' hilarious. She laughed at this, and I pointed out that she just proved my point because I made her laugh. I also pointed out that if she hadn't laughed, it would have shown that she agreed with me, also proving my point. A win-win situation for me. She pointed out that "clever" and "funny" are not always the same, but I chalked that up to sour grapes.

By the time we left, the wind was blowing and there was a bit of rain with it. When Maxine realized we were getting back in the car, she resumed her complaints, but she was sleeping within five minutes of pulling out of the hotel parking garage. Horyon drove us home, as I was not in the mood to drive with all of that wine and food in me.

I was completely stuffed, though I had only eaten two plates of food plus a little dessert plate. Last year I'm sure that it was four and one. I suppose this is good news, from a health standpoint. But from a buffet-connoisseur point of view, it was a minor disaster. I suppose that at this rate I will be satisfied with one plate of food by the time I'm forty, and by the time I'm fifty I'll be stuffed just from wandering around smelling it.

Horyon has called me, though not to bed, yet. I need to wash the baby bottles, as we will be traveling to Taegu tomorrow. For those of you not familiar with Korea, Taegu is an exotic, fun-filled paradise with many activities to amuse the mind, body and soul.

For those of you who are familiar with Korea, please don't talk to the people who aren't.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Some Maxine Pictures

Well, it's been a while since I posted any Maxine pictures. I just wanted to let you know that she's still getting plenty of rest:
Doesn't she look comfortable? I'm sure most of you sleep in the same position.

She had her first meal of spaghetti recently:
It was very entertaining to watch.

She still does that cute, scrunchy face from time to time. I'm pretty sure she's trying to express something, but I have no idea what. She does it for Mommy:
And for Daddy:
She's also starting to enjoy hiding. I think she's pretty good at it for her age.
That's all for now. Have a good weekend!

Friday, November 03, 2006

On the Value of a Penny

The other day Horyon asked me to tell a story from my childhood. I thought for a moment, passing over the gems she has already heard, avoiding stories involving Star Trek reruns or other pop culture references, and finally settled on a little number involving a pear tree, two industrious little boys, and a trip to Dairy Queen.

I'm not sure how old I was, but I can't believe I was more than eight or nine, because an older kid would probably have not gotten involved in this little venture. In addition, we moved to the house next to the aforementioned pear tree sometime after I turned seven, I believe. I am too lazy to do the fact-checking on this, and will undoubtedly be corrected by whichever of my parents reads this first.

It was a bright, sunny, summer day, as I recall. The kind of day when dads all around the country like to mow their lawns. My dad also wanted to mow his lawn, but he had a problem: too many pears. You see, there was a large, old pear tree in a back yard, right off the corner of the house, actually. Every summer it produced pears that were good to eat, if you could get to them before the squirrels did, or before they became overripe and fell to the ground. Not having a gang of migrant workers at our disposal, most of the pears on this tree did indeed become too ripe and fell to the ground at the slightest breeze. This created a few problems:

First, nobody wants minced pear spread around their house after mowing the lawn. Smells nice at first, but that doesn't last long in Kansas summers.

Second, some of the pears fell while still solid. The lawnmower would not mince these. Rather, it would catch them on the blade and sling them at ridiculous velocities across the yard, perhaps breaking a window, possibly knocking over the bird feeder, or if you were lucky, striking the neighbor's dog. (I'm sorry, Cookie, may you rest in peace.)

Third, the bees were crazy for pears. Bees alone wouldn't be so bad, I guess, but we were somehow more prone to wasps. For those of you not familiar with wasps, they are like bees only bigger, meaner, and non-honey producing. Growing up in that house it was a regular summer occurrence for Dad to find wasp nests and spray them with poison after warning us away.

In addition to the pear problems, the tree itself was too close to the house. Pear trees don't live forever, like those giant redwoods. They grow old and die, like all of my houseplants. Dad eventually had it cut down before it could collapse onto his house. Tree murder, floral euthanasia, or preemptive defense of hearth and home, I leave it to you to decide, fair reader. At any rate, the eventual fate of the pear tree did not cast its shadow on the tale you are undoubtedly clamoring for me to get on with.

That summer, my dad had an idea to get rid of the pears without chopping them to pieces or flinging them at random around the yard. He came to me and my brother with the following offer:

For every pear that we picked up, he would pay us one penny (about 10 Korean won). I know that sounds incredibly cheap, but remember that this was 30 years ago, at a time when gum ball machines and parking meters still accepted pennies.

Yeah. Whatever. By this point in the story, Horyon was already laughing. I trust that you, gentle reader, are more kind-hearted than she.

Chris and I set to it, picking up pears and collecting them in our baskets, one for him, one for me. I have no idea how long we did this back-breaking, sweat-of-the-brow work. I don't remember the details of the suffering. I can only judge the harshness of this work by the mental scars that I bear to this day. See? There's one just at the base of my left temporal lobe. You can't see it while I'm wearing my glasses.

I am not sure exactly how it was decided that we had finished. Perhaps we had picked up all of the errant pears. Perhaps our kindly father took pity upon us because we were near collapsing. Or maybe we just got tired of picking up rotten fruit. At any rate, the job was done, and it was time to receive our due payment. After all the pears were counted, I'm pretty sure that I had more than Chris. (He had always been a bit fussy, and undoubtedly skipped over a few rotting pear carcasses that I gladly added to my collection.) My total take for the afternoon was something in the neighborhood of $1.57, and let me assure you, I was pretty happy with that.

Then my father had another suggestion: he would drive us to the Dairy Queen, and we could buy whatever we wanted with our money.

Huzzah! and we were off to Dairy Queen!

When we arrived, Chris bought something conservative. He had money left over which would one day be spent on Star Wars action figures or electric guitars. But to me, this particular trip to the Realm of the Queen of Dairy Products presented a unique opportunity; Usually a trip to D.Q. meant an ice cream cone, or perhaps a Buster Bar. My parents had no wish to spoil me, and knew that excessive eating could eventually lead to the current state of my weight. I do not begrudge them withholding the more expensive D.Q. treats. Ice cream cones, Buster Bars, Mr. Misties, and all the other less-than-a-dollar offerings were delicious, no doubt, but not in the same league as the Banana Split, which cost one dollar and fifty cents: Three dollops of D.Q.'s soft serve. Chocolate, strawberry and pineapple toppings. Whip cream, cherries, and of course, a split banana. In my feverish, pre-pubescent dreams there was no goal higher, no nirvana more delightful, no dairy-based dessert more worthy of adoration. All thoughts of saving a portion of my earnings for a future day went right out the window.

There is no bittersweet little ending to this story involving the banana split ending up on the pavement. I did not change my mind and become more thrifty. There is no heart-touching story of sharing it with my brother, or donating it to the Salvation Army. This story ends with an entire banana split being consumed by me.

Not just any banana split, either. The most delicious banana split I've ever had. I've had banana splits since then made with finer ingredients, and in larger portions, but that was the one by which all others are judged. I am sure that it was all the sweeter because I had worked hard for it.

And that was the day that I learned the true value of money: it is good for putting food in your stomach.

By the time I had finished telling this story, minus the flowery bits I tend to add when blogging, Horyon was in stitches. It was hilarious to her that I spent all of my money while Chris saved some of his. It was a riot that my Dad paid me a lousy penny for each pear. And somehow the whole story had an air of silliness to it that I'm afraid has been lost in this retelling. But it is important for us to share stories like this. Stories that reflect our respective cultures. Stories that give insight into how our minds work. Stories about our families.

I love telling the stories of my life, and my favorite friends are the ones who like to hear them. One of my favorite things about being married is sharing stories like this, as well as others that I have made up to gain sympathy. It is a true blessing to me to have Horyon as the best audience in the world. And every once in a while it is appropriate for me to stand up in front of God and Everybody and proclaim that I truly love my wife. I rejoice that God has made a family of us, and look forward to making our own stories with Maxine.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006


A few days ago I posted to Roblog and got to messing with the settings. Apparently I found the setting for "suck" and turned it all the way up, because no one, including myself, was able to access Roblog.

I had tons of emails asking where it went. (I figure that since emails don't have any weight, I can just assume that each letter weighed between 3 and 5 pounds, plus I couldn't really separate out the bits that weren't about Roblog or all the address stuff, so it was easily a ton. Maybe even two if I use a bigger font.)

I figured it was just my computer, so this evening when I saw all those emails (OK, OK, it was like four!) I decided that I had better do something. So I went to my "Settings" page and tried to figure out what the heck went wrong.

I couldn't figure it out, but I fixed it. This is somewhat typical of how I "get things done" and "fix things". For example:

When I was in my early teens, our family had a t.v. set that had quit working. I asked for and got permission to take it apart, and had a great time seeing what kind of stuff is inside a t.v. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I discovered that it was working again! I was quite happy with myself, and asked if I could keep it in my room, a first for me. My parents agreed, probably having some kind of premonition of what would happen.

I believe it was the same day, if not the next. I was working on something else, and the t.v. was on. I set my drink down on top of the t.v., and it fell over, flooding down into the back vents, and bringing with it a wave of destruction. The t.v. made some cool noises before I unplugged it, and my room smelled like burning electronics for the next couple of days. I figured that it wasn't worth the effort of taking it apart this time, because I didn't have whatever tool that is you use to remove cola from a fried transistor.

Ok. That story started out being an example of how I get things done, and ended up being a brutally honest glimpse of how I get things done. That's it. I hate blogging.

Friday, October 20, 2006

The Latest Sermon

Late last year I was talking with one of my former students, Junghyun. She was in my classes at Kosin University, in 2001 and 2002. She always did her best in my classes, even though her English was not the best of my students. She was one of the few students who actually came to my office from time to time just to chat. The other thing that set her apart is that she was raised in an orphanage. In fact, she still lives there, though she will move out at the end of this year.

She graduated a couple of years ago, and has been working. Before this year, I met her a couple of times a year to have dinner and talk about life in general, but this year we've met more frequently. This is because when I met her late this past winter, she asked me for a favor. She wanted me to write and deliver a sermon in her church, while she gave a simultaneous translation.

There are a few things in this request the import of which many of you will not understand without a little lecturing. So now is the time to break out the spit-balls, cell phones and whatever other nonsense you get into when the teacher goes all pedantic on you.

I am not a pastor. In the States this would not get in the way of me delivering a guest sermon, but in Korea things are a bit different. Most Korean churches and church-goers are very chain-of-command oriented. One aspect of this is that Pastors give Sermons, and non-pastors don't. The mindset is such that when people heard that I regularly (once a month) delivered sermons (at our previous church), they assumed that I was a pastor. Even after explaining that we didn't have a pastor, and that preaching duties fell to the members who felt called to do so, it was hard for many Koreans to accept that kind of blurring of the lines. And to visit a strange church and give a sermon. Me, a non-pastor. There was a lot of pressure to be good.

There was also the pressure of the translating part. Simultaneous translation is one of those things that looks easy, but is actually the mental equivalent of juggling knives, flaming torches and kittens at the same time. The reason it looks easy is that the only people who do it in public are those who do it very, very well. I am sure that all of you agree that Horyon's English is good, even excellent. She's a fantastic student. Even though she disagrees with me, I know that her English has improved the entire time we've been together. It sometimes seems to get worse to her, especially when she's tired, but the people who don't talk to her regularly all testify that there has been steady improvement.

My point is this: Horyon is scared of simultaneous translation. She wants nothing to do with it. Small bouts of it while my parents were here tired her out quickly (I'm sure Maxine had nothing to do with that!), and when she has to go back and forth between Korean and English it is very easy for her to spit out funny mixes of both languages.

Junghyun was a good student, but nowhere near Horyon's level, and for something like this it was very important to do it well. So I decided that we had to do this in a manner most uncharacteristic of me: well-planned.

In the future, if a former (or current) student asks me to do something like this in Korea, my first response will be "Thank you for asking, but no." I like to think that before this incident I would have said "no" to most people, but undoubtedly the same ego that pushes me to Roblog would have pushed me to say yes.

But for Junghyun's reasons, I couldn't say no. As I mentioned, she was raised in an orphanage, which paid for all of her schooling expenses, including that degree in English Language and Literature that she received from Kosin University, where I was one of her professors. She wanted to show her family at the orphanage how grateful she was for her education, and how it hadn't been wasted. She decided that the best way to do this was by giving a simultaneous translation of an English sermon given by a foreigner at the church connected to the orphanage.

That's right. Christian orphanage, connected to the sermon-receiving church. Not a big church, either, but a dedicated one. Her translation was to be a sort of graduate recital which her entire family would attend. How could I say no?

So last winter we started talking about how to do this, with the idea of doing it at the end of winter vacation. (The fact that I am writing about this in October should give you some clue as to how that plan evolved.) I asked her to choose a scripture, because I figured that since she was the driving force for this event, and it was her church, she should have some say in the direction of the thing.

She told me that one of her favorite scriptures was Revelation 3:15-16.

"I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm, –neither hot nor cold, –I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

And I said, "Yeah, I've heard that one. I'm sure it will make a good sermon." I wasn't sure because I knew about the passage, I was sure because if someone feels strongly about a passage, there is a sermon in it. That's why you don't hear many sermons on the bits in the Old Testament about how many silver candle holders there were in the temple. It's not stirring stuff.

But this was stirring stuff, indeed. Very strong language, that spitting-out-of-the-mouth stuff. So I told her yes, and got to work on it.

I ended up opening the whole passage, from verses 14 to 22, because as I read, I quickly realized that this was in fact a letter to a New Testament church, telling them that they had gotten soft, and to shape up or ship out. And while it doesn't bother me very much to annoy people by saying true things, the idea of going into a strange church and implying that God wants to vomit them out was just not very appealing. ("Vomit" is actually a better translation than "spit". Look it up in a commentary if you don't believe me. That's where I found it.)

Opening it up to more than the two verses she chose gave me a lot more flexibility, and, in my opinion, kept the focus where John wanted it: on God's mercy and love for even the worst of us.

I've decided to post the whole sermon separately, so that you can see my (sort of) finished product. Check that post if you want to see that level of detail. I have just finished cleaning up the formatting, and it was interesting for me to see the difference in writing style between that and what I usually write for Roblog.

The sermon itself went very well. That morning we went to Horyon's parents' church so we could leave Maxine with them. We figured it would be a lot of traveling, too many new people, and a completely unknown situation. Not ideal for bringing the baby along. We left early enough that we could get some lunch before the 2:00 service time. Even after lunch, we still managed to arrive 15 minutes early. Not bad for going someplace where neither of us have ever been. Junghyun and I ran through the sermon one time before the service, with Horyon listening in. I think Junghyun was pretty relieved to have someone check her work. We cleared up a couple of minor points, and went on in.

The praise team was working hard. And loud. The kids there were really into it, but for me it was just loud singing in Korean with no words anywhere for me to follow along. Nice enough, I suppose. Then the leader prayed, and invited us up to speak.

We got off to a bit of a bumpy start, but soon we got our rhythm, and it started to work. I even through in a couple of extra clarifying bits that weren't in any of the drafts I had given Junghyun, but she picked them up just fine. By the time we got to some of the stronger bits in the last quarter, we were getting a few "amen"s from some of the crowd.

I have to tell you, it felt pretty good. There is definitely something in my personality that enjoys being in front of a crowd, making them understand my ideas, and perhaps getting them to think. I enjoy being a teacher, and at some point God will very likely push me into the ministry, since the subtle hints don't seem to be working so far.

After the service, Horyon talked with one of the senior members of the staff. She thanked us for coming, and asked if we knew any foreigners who would be able to come back on a regular basis, to work and play with the kids. We have passed that message on, and hope that one of the groups in our church will decide that God has called them in that direction: South-West.

I want to conclude this post by thanking Horyon for supporting me through this effort. Back when I was doing a sermon once a month, it was usually a week worth of pushing me, encouraging me, and occasionally kicking my butt. This one lasted longer than Maxine spent in the womb. There were times when we both wanted to give up on it, but Horyon doesn't give up on me easily. This one was a real learning experience for both of us, and God used it to touch our lives and strengthen our faith. Thanks for going through this with me, Honey.



Judgement and Mercy

This is the sermon I mentioned in my "Latest Sermon" post, together with the Bible verse it is based on. I figure that some of you may not have access to a Bible where you check Roblog, and that from that group most of you won't bother to search for it on the internet.

The sermon itself is broken into very small paragraphs, which is not my usual writing style. This is because the sermon was written first as an outline. Usually I don't (I should say "didn't," as it's been a while since I've done this regularly) write more than an outline. The more words there are on the paper, the more I look at it, and the less I look at the people listening to me. And I've always been impressed with ministers who could preach without notes. I figure that I'm not gonna get there without a lot more practice, and a lot more time to devote to it. But perhaps some day.

Anyway, I hope that this is still meaningful on the page rather than out loud.

Revelations 3:14-22

To the angel/messenger of the church in Laodicea write:

(14) These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God's creation. (15) I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! (16) So, because you are lukewarm–neither hot nor cold–I am about to spit you out of my mouth. (17) You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. (18) I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.
(19) Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent. (20) Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.
(21) To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne. (22) He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

This letter to the Church at Laodicea has two very strong messages. A message of Judgement, and a message of Mercy. A casual reader can see this, but a closer look reveals that both the Judgement and the Mercy are more extreme than we first realized. One reason we have trouble understanding is that we don't know the context. For example, from our scripture today, verses 14 and 15: "I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm–neither hot nor cold–I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

It is impossible to understand this fully without understanding the geography of Laodicea, the city to which this letter is addressed. Laodicea is a very rich city, but it has a big problem: no fresh water supply nearby. And so they have two choices for water. The first choice is water from the city of Hierapolis, about 12 km north of Laodicea. Hierapolis is famous for its hot springs, like Onchanjang (the name of an area famous for, of course, hot springs) here in Pusan. The water is naturally hot, with lots of minerals dissolved in it. People believed then, as now, that water like this is good for your health.

The second choice lies in the opposite direction, from the city of Colosee, famous for its fresh, cold mineral water. In the days before refrigeration, a visitor to Colosee would remember the taste of that cold, sparkling water for the rest of his days. Very refreshing. But almost 20 km away from Laodicea in the opposite direction of Hieropolis.

Both sources of water are excellent, but in those days water was moved across long distances through stone pipes. By the time it reaches Laodicea, the hot water is no longer hot, but lukewarm, with a heavy, metallic taste to it. Not at all refreshing. And by the time the cold water arrives, it is no longer cold, but lukewarm. It has acquired the taste of dust and stone. Also not refreshing.

And so when Jesus tells the Church at Colosee that they are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, they know what he is talking about. And it's important for us to understand what he's talking about. Because the letters in the Bible are not written just for the people they're addressed to, they're written to us. That is why context is important, because their problems are our problems.

This particular letter is a good example, because it is so very general. For example, in verse 15: "I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!"
We know that the church is doing something, but whatever it is, Jesus is not at the center. Jesus isn't even on the edges. Jesus is on the outside. So their activities are not healing, "hot", nor refreshing, "cold." Lukewarm.

Then in verse 16, Jesus says, "I am about to spit you out of my mouth." Actually, a better way to translate that is "vomit". (I ended up cutting the previous sentence, because the Korean translation is not so ambiguous.) This church makes God feel sick to his stomach. God is completely disgusted with this church!

The worst part is that they don't even know it! In verse 17 it says that they think they are rich, when if fact they are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. Not in a worldly way, but in a spiritual way. Jesus advises them that they should invest in God's treasures. Verse 18 reads: "I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see."
Jesus says, "Gold refined in the fire" because Laodicea was a rich city, a banking center for that part of Asia. But gold of the Earth passes away, and Jesus wants them to store up spiritual wealth.

Jesus says, "White clothes to wear" because in the fields near Laodicea they raised sheep with a very fine, black wool. It was used to make cloth that was, again, famous in that part of Asia. White robes are used repeatedly in Revelation to show holiness and cleanliness, which are far more important than fine clothes.

Jesus says, "Salve to put on your eyes" because Laodicea was also famous for medicine, especially an ointment for the eyes. But spiritual blindness is a much greater problem than blindness of the eye.

Gold, clothing, salve. Jesus is telling this church that they need replacements for the very best things that they have, because it is all garbage!

There are seven letters in the first three chapters of Revelation, representing a broad range of churches and their problems. We need to realize that these letters are not just for the churches of that time and place. They are for us, too! Laodicia's letter is the least positive of the seven. The judgement is very harsh. Jesus has nothing good to say about them! We don't want to be this church! So why is it included?

The answer starts in verse 16, when Jesus says "I am about to spit you out." The grammar and words are very clear. It is not past tense, "You are finished." It's not present, "You are on your way out now." It's future, "You will be out very soon." No date given. In other words, there is still an opportunity to avoid this judgement!

And it gets better. In verse 19, Jesus says, "Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline..." This incredibly harsh judgement is only one side of the coin. The other side is love. And not just any love. Usually God's love for his people is expressed as "agapay", which means "unconquerable attitude of benevolence and good will". But to Laodicea, the word is phileo: "The warmest and most tender affection." Warm, and tender. Affection. Not just the love of a Creator for the Creation, but the love of a father for his daughter.

But it gets even better! Jesus is standing at the door and knocking. Not the door of the unbeliever. Not just the door to your heart. The door of the Church! The Church that HE MADE! He humbled himself to death to make this church, and now he is humbling himself again to be let back in! In verse 20 He says, "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me." And with the worst church of the seven, he will come in and eat! Just like family! Why is such a personal illustration being used for the worst of the seven churches?

But it gets even better than that! In verse 21 Jesus says, "To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne." These lousy, lukewarm, worthless Christians can be taken up to the same level as Jesus himself! How can it be?

Because God's Judgement is always overcome by his Mercy and Love for us. When we are at our worst, pitiful, blind, naked, and we don't even realize it, God still loves us. When we refuse God's gifts, God still loves us. When we've shut Jesus out of our church, God still loves us. When we are so nasty and foul that God wants to vomit us out, God still loves us. And as soon as we repent, and let Jesus in, God's love for us if fulfilled.

I would like to challenge you, right here and now. Look at your church. (I used the name of the church at which I was preaching rather than just 'your church'.) What is your church doing? Is Jesus at the center, or has He been pushed out the door? I also want to challenge you to look at your life. Is Jesus in your life, eating with you, refreshing and healing with you? Or is He on the outside, knocking to get in? If Jesus is on the outside of any part of your life, the judgement is harsh. He's ready to spit you out. But it's not too late! He's knocking! Let Him in!

Monday, October 16, 2006

First Birthday Party

I'm going to tell you about Maxine's first birthday party, but first I'm going to explain why it has taken me more than two weeks to do so.

Things have been busy here, as usual, but I had one unusual assignment: file my taxes for the past three years. Yesterday I finally finished getting all the paperwork done, and today I was going to mail it, but I found that my computer at work was not up to the task of printing a modern (i.e. post-millenial) Adobe PDF file. In fact, I found that my computer at work was not even up to the task of installing the latest version of Adobe Acrobat (A.A.).

Granted, "Acrobat" is kind of a funny name for this program. When one thinks of acrobats, some adjectives that come to mind are "slender", "flexible", "entertaining", whereas the Adobe version of an acrobat is more like an old, fat, cigar-smoking, annoying Marlon Brando who you only keep around because he can damn well get the job done.

Anyway, tomorrow I will have to beg access to a computer in the main office, or perhaps go to one of the student computer labs, because we will be getting new computers soon (i.e. before the next millennium), and it's not worth the hassle of getting this one to cooperate. And there's nothing I can do about it here at home, so I am putting the final touches on this entry (which I started on Maxine's birthday) today. So back to the birthday party:

First of all, it cost us just a bit more than my average take-home pay for one month, not taking into account that our apartment is provided as part of my salary. I am not complaining, it's just that I enjoy irony. For example:

Usually when we go to a buffet, I pay around $70 and come away completely stuffed. This time I paid more than 20 times as much, and was hungry by the time I got home. Because, as the Hokey-Pokey puts it, that's what it's all about.

It was all worth it, though. I didn't eat much because I was moving around, talking to our guests, encouraging them to sign the guest book (like in the next picture) and making sure they all had enough to eat. We had a total of 80 people, I believe, with about a dozen of them being young enough that we didn't pay full price. Of course, I didn't eat my money's worth, and Horyon didn't eat anything. Apparently she was unable to play hostess while sitting down with the occasional plate of food. Also on the no-food-thanks list was Youngwhan, Horyon's brother. He took all of the pictures you see here, and was also unable to combine that with eating. It didn't help any that Horyon to move his stuff so that someone could use his chair, but as I demonstrated, creativity and determination can get one at least a couple of plates of food.
The guest book was included as part of our photo services (see the Birthday Photos entries for details on that). It was a hardcover book with photos facing blank pages that our guests could sign. Some of them just wrote their names, and some filled up half a page with words of wisdom and blessing for Maxine. It is a lovely souvenir, and a reminder of the friendships and family that we have here in Korea.

We had the party at Bexco, which is a huge exposition/convention center. It also happens to be where D.A. and I went for the Star Wars Exhibition. If you buzz over to their homepage you can see what it looks like, and if you dig a bit in their website you will find that "The Bexco is modeled after a seagull soaring to the east-south Pacific Ocean, combined with a cruise ship." Lucky seagull, being combined with the Love Boat like that.

Our party was actually at the Bexco Buffet, which I couldn't find anything about on their website. But to get there, you have to go through the front space, which is called:

"The Glass Hall, of light green double-glass,
is a unique and marvelous hall hallucinating
you are in an extensive three-dimensional space,
which is rarely to be seen in any convention
center in the world."

I wish we could have had the party there, because what party isn't improved by hallucinating that you are in 3-D? Instead we were stuck in our conventional 2-D space. On the other hand, by the time they started the birthday party portion of the event, I may have already been hallucinating, because I saw some things that I would not have been able to imagine without the assistance of substances used to alter the state of one's consciousness. I would never have dreamed up:
The Golden Cowgirl, or her cohorts, the two clowns with bottoms like that of baboons.
I know that you can only see one clown in this picture, but trust me, there were two. And it is an added bonus that you cannot see his bottom in this picture, or any of the pictures we have from the party.

You can see some of our guests in the pictures.
I like this picture in particular, because you can actually see that we had some foreigners at the party. And of course, my buddy Earl was slugging back a brewsky. I should have known that if there were only one picture with him in it (and there was), he would be drinkin' (which he was).

There are many pictures of Korean friends and relatives, but these are the only two with my foreign friends. So if you came to the party and are waiting for a picture with you in it, you might as well stop waiting and start photo-shopping. Apparently Youngwhan had some troubles with his camera that night. I'm afraid that some of the pictures are very dark, and a lot of them are blurry.

Our home-movies came out fairly well, but I have no idea how to post a movie on here, and most of you are probably not interested in watching the whole thing anyway.

So as I mentioned, we had the Golden Cowgirl (as I dubbed her) and the baboon-butt clowns to spearhead the entertainment for the evening. They played very loud music, used a loud soundsystem for their microphones, danced around, and guaranteed that it would be a memorable evening for everyone involved.

Except for them, of course. Thirty minutes earlier I caught a glimpse of them doing the same exact show in an adjoining room. Apparently Golden Cowgirls and baboon-butt clowns are pretty popular. I wouldn't have guessed.

A key point of any first-year birthday party is when the guest of honor is given the opportunity to choose whichever item catches her eye. The item she chooses traditionally foretells her future. It was my job to explain for our guests in English what was going on.
We set in front of her a pencil (indicating that she would be an author or scholar), a bundle of string (long life), a cross on a necklace (ministry/mission field), a mouse (cat) (no, sorry, I meant computer geek. Wrong mouse.), a microphone (entertainer), and a stethoscope (manufacturer of medical supplies) (Sorry again, I meant "doctor"). Traditionally, parents also set out some money or coins, indicating that their child will grow up to be a greedy person. (No, sorry, it means they will MAKE a lot of money, not that they necessarily LOVE money.) We decided to pass on that one. We tossed around the idea of putting out a tiarra, indicating that she would grow up to be a princess, but decided that she had already pretty much accomplished that one.

Maxine chose the pencil. Perhaps because both of her parents have had jobs involving writing, perhaps because there was a cute helicopter-thingey at the end of the pencil. Only God knows what Maxine will grow up to be, and I doubt that God reveals His plan in this manner. Still, it wouldn't surprise me. She already likes books.

The most fascinating thing on our display was the microphone. I may have to just write about it in another post, because we still have it, and I find it to be strangely fascinating. It is a Hello Kitty microphone, and it doesn't amplify your voice. Instead, it has four buttons, and the head flashes in time to the sounds it makes. One of the buttons makes it play a song, and it cycles through quite a few before repeating. The ABC song, the one about Sippin' Cider through a Straw, Do a Deer, and one I don't know.

How about that. It only plays four songs, and I thought it played "quite a few before repeating." I'm telling you, this Hello Kitty Microphone is extraordinary.

Anyway, one of the buttons makes a cymbal sound, and one makes a buzzing/referee whistle sound. The fourth button starts a little conga riff. It cycles in just four beats, but it is strangely hypnotic. When I hear it, I can't help but tap my foot or sway to the rhythm. Cowbells, conga drums, maybe a little snare in there. The other little songs it plays are electronic beep songs, standard stuff for baby toys. But press the conga riff button and it instantly cuts to the conga riff, taking it to a whole new level. The contrast between the two can be shocking, and dreamlike in the way that events and objects in a dream are seemingly disconnected from each other.

But there's more. While it's conga riffing or playing one of the four other songs, if you press the cymbal button, it layers cymbal clashes on the main beats of the song. Ditto for the referee whistle button. It makes the kiddie tunes into harsh, clashing nightmare soundtracks that jar the nerves and make your teeth grind and sweat break out on your brow and you want to grab the damn thing and throw it across the room and then you hit the conga riff button and...

You're back in that hypnotic dance. Doo doot doot da-doo doot da-doot doo...

And as you read this, and wonder what the phone number is for the Korean mansion of rubber rooms and whether they understand English well enough for you to tell them where I live, I am wracking my brain for a way to upload these sounds to the internet, so that you too can be taken away from reality for a brief moment that lasts forever.

Doo doot doot da-doo doot da-doot doo,
Doo doot doot da-doo doot da-doot doo,
Doo doot doot da-doo doot da-doot doo...

A Brief Introduction

Roblog is my writing lab. It is my goal to not let seven days pass without a new post. I welcome your criticism, as I cannot improve on my own.

Here is a link to my cung post, which remains the only word which I have ever invented, and which has not, as far as I know, caught on. Yet.