As their son, I must admit, I feel like I've done good, somewhat—finally.
You see, Mom and Dad never asked me of anything in terms of material displays of affections. What they’ve consistently asked was that I’d be good, good as in, “be a good son,” be the archetypal eldest son model of the Korean culture: one who has filial piety, or in other words, one who takes care of the parents when they get old and decrepit. So, getting a good edu-ma-cation was important. “How?” you may ask; “good question,” I’d answer. No, it’s because, as Mom always has told me, "having a good education will bring you lots and lots of fortune." By the way, I’m still waiting on that pile of riches to fall on my lap. So, sure, yes, I worked hard (...somewhat) to get into good schools. And I hardly ever, almost never, got into trouble. Giving no grief, making no fuss—some would say I’m a model of good behavior all around, a son who has not shamed his parents.
My parents seem satisfied with how I've led my life thus far. But as they are only human, their selfish desire for me is that I have a clearer direction in life. A direction that would lead me to be sufficient, to want for nothing. So that I'd become a man, an able provider, one who starts a family of his own. Having a nice wife at his side and at least one child in between them, like something you'd see in a perfect family portrait which hangs on the wall, placed somewhere prominent in a house with a backyard and white picket fences.
However, seeming my parents' wish for me will be somewhat rather difficult to fulfill, I've been resigned to feel not so much like a good son—not a bad one either, mind you, but just not good. It's evident that my parents are old, and especially my mom has sacrificed a lot to get me to where I am. I can say it was her push, more so than my own, that made me somewhat educated, worldly; it was her drive that helped open up many opportunities for me. Could I have grabbed onto many more nuggets of golden opportunities and cashed them in for security and wealth? Maybe. Then, I could have perhaps provided for my parents' security and paid for some of their luxuries, like throwing them a huge 70th Birthday Celebration.* But their birthdays came and went. I've failed to be a good son.
But today, I must admit, I feel like I've done good—finally.
Yesterday was my parents' 45th wedding anniversary. Although I think celebrating wedding anniversaries is more of a Western convention than a Korean one, I now had the chance to give them a material gift of some substance. I took them to a nice restaurant on 5th Avenue, near Washington Square Park, called CRU. We drank champagne and ate from the Tasting Menu, relishing every bite, and passing away the time with hearty laughters. Mom, I believe, in all her life, never had tried squab (then again, neither have I), never had anything fancy laid before her to eat. Dad may have had tried something classy. But regardless of their prior culinary experience or inexperience, seeing them smile, seeing them enjoy themselves, made me feel like I've done something finally good.
So to my Parents, Happy Anniversary!
*In the Korean culture, 60th Birthday is a milestone. Therefore, a large celebratory party is thrown by the children for their parents. However since I was still in junior high school when Dad turned 60 and in college when Mom turned 60, I had no means to throw either one of them a party. So a realistic goal would have been to throw them a modest 70th Birthday party.
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