With the latest news on Myspace, sexual predators, and etc etc, I had to take a moment to still my head.

After all, rolling one’s little Asian eyes that far back into your head can cause bystanders to believe you’ve gone through some sort of apoplectic shock.

And besides that, those sites and every last name based geneology site has utterly failed to garner any interest for me whatsoever.

I mean. Please.

“Last name Kim.  – 300K results. Wow. Look. You’re all related.”

Which is weird and a sardonic statement, I suppose, re: my Asian American experience, after all.

Because Korean Korean people do know and care about geneology and pedigree.  They know (duh) that you might be a Kim but they want to do from which district, which village.  Which royalty you might be related to.

I’ve only been asked this question while at student conferences over 12 years ago.  More likely than not, I was asked by someone from an Ivy League.  By someone who just might be as pedigreed and privileged as Wookie Kim    Who knows, maybe the questioner way back when was even related. We all are, you know.

“What kind of Kim *are* you?”

“Uh… I dunno.”

“Well then where did your father go to college?”

“Uh… I dunno”  (Which I realize is a dumb question but it’s not like my dad ever spoke about his life in Korea, being in the Navy, or where he went to college.  I only know snippets which I have to drag out of him.  Or from recollections of nags that my mother would bemoan like

‘Your daddy…Daddy neber takuh me out danshing likuh he takuh udder lady in school. But he nebber take mommy.  So sad poor mommy.’ 

I remember asking my Dad when I got home from that student conference those questions.

He finally told me which university he went to but I promptly forgot.  It never came up again. I mean, it’s not like they had a football team and Dad was catching the games at 4AM to root for the Firey Radish Pickles or anything.

But this I do remember.

“So, Daddy. What kind of Kim are we?”

“Who askuh you dat?”

“Someone from school.”

“Oh. I see.”

“So, Daddy, what kind of Kim *are* we?”

“Ah-bee-yushly. We are the *BEST* kinduh.”

“Ah-bee-yushly?”

“Yesuh.”

“Oh! Obviously. That’s just awesome.”

A clever one, my Daddy.

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* More home enhancements… not for any aesthetic continuity but again.. so that the house is easier to wipe down. (Grey marbelite counters, wood panel floors, white walls & cabinetry, light beige walls, a lawn that’s neglected …it is february after all… and black leather sofas. More fridges/freezers than people. 2 in the kitchen. 1 in the guest room (for kimchi) a meat freezer downstairs, another kimchi fridge down there, and one other fridge for… i don’t even know and I’m afraid to look)

* The thermostate set at 64. Yes. That’s 64. I’m wearing sweats all day long. It’s colder than it is outside in SF. What’s up with old people and keeping the thermostat that low?

* A floor heating pad. Trying to recreate this whole thang, my parents have a heating pad the size of a queen size bed set up on the floor. We all sit on it together, eat dinner from a low table while on it, lie on it while watching tv, and poke each other when taking family naps on there. The afore mentioned leather couch barely gets sat upon all day.

*Home cooking.
Oh.My.Goodness. So.Good.

* I’ve actually already finished one book and half way through another. It’s nice catching up with soem reading that I’ve neglected for far too long.

* Conversations/reconnections with long lost friends. Emails from a friend from College who’s getting sent off to Iraq. A fab conversation with the USG (Ultimate Straight Guy), and silly dialogue with my Dad.

Example:

While watching Korean Dramas with my Dad
Moi: What are we watching?
The Daddy: … wha? (completely engrossed)
Moi: … Dad… is that a guy?
The Daddy: … wha? (finally registering that I might be saying something to him)
Moi: … the dude with the pretty hair and two earrings…dangly even…
The Daddy: … shhhh I’m watching the terebeee
Moi: … um dad… he looks too pretty…
The Daddy: …sooo?
Moi: … if you want me to date a Korean guy, please tell me they don’t have to be that gay…
The Daddy: Shut up!
Moi: I mean seriously dad…I think he’s wearing foundation.
The Daddy: Uy!
Moi: Hmmm ok…

* Lots of cheerful naps.
Yay naps!

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Ok, den, I say again por you becausuh you not ristening to me ebery time i say before time.

Stop! You worrying too muchuh anduh you makeuh me habuh to sing Shimuhn anduh Garpunkle.

Shlow downing
You moobuh too past.
You gotcha makeuh duh morning rastuh, nowuh.
Skipping down duh cobburl stones.
someting someting… peerling Groooooby!

All I am saying is habuh good day and good dreamsuh.

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Daddy: Aiysh.
Moi: So, what then?

Daddy: Aiyshuh.
Moi: No grandkids in the work. When do you think he’ll work on that?

Daddy: Maybe when he as old as daddy.
Moi: How old are you now?

Daddy: 67.
Moi: You’re not *that* old daddy.

Daddy: Mikeuh maybe not habuh grandson por me until he my age.
Moi: You could do that yourself then, pops. I mean, Monica’s not *that* old.

Daddy: *giggles uncontrollably*
Moi: (Silent horrifying visualization on the other side of the phone line)

Daddy: Maybe.
Moi: Yeah Dad. Sure. Gun for it.

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