The Night Before Christmas 2009

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through my pad,
not a damn thing was happening—it was really that bad.
The ghosts of Christmases past plied for holidays before,
but the memories weren’t that good, so their taunts were a bore.

My family was nestled all snug in their beds,
while I huddled in fleece from my toes to my head.
As I waited for Santa, I was plagued by swine flu,
and vestigial phlegm from bronchitis, too.

But the plague didn’t rage, and it wasn’t exciting—
it was slow, amateur—it wasn’t worth fighting.
The swine made me lax with its lack of predation:
Diarrhea? Insomnia? Not worth medication.

But I didn’t have the spirit to raise a fist
(I hadn’t even compiled a carol playlist),
so I waited it out, took my pills twice a day,
kept myself quarantined and helpful friends at bay.

While visions of company danced in my head,
I wondered what I’d done to deserve this, instead?
When what to my feverish brain should appear
but the reason for my isolation, quite clear:

2008: I’d left family and weather properly bleak
for tubing and sunburns in fair Mozambique.
I’d spent Christmas with strangers, and even on a plane,
and the jilted Christmas spirits had remembered my name!

“Christmas Eve was mundane, but tomorrow will be worse—
after last year’s half-assing, your Christmas is cursed!”
“But my tree—” “It’s not real, neither fir nor pine.”
“It’s Korea. If I cut down a tree, it’s a crime.”

“Precisely. You’re not where you are meant to be.
That’s two years you’ve deserted your family.”
“Our Christmases weren’t happy. They were worse than this flu.”
“But if you were with them, they’d be in quarantine with you.”

Well, that little jab stopped me dead in my tracks,
and up rose a memory of a December long past,
when the holiday footmen weren’t Dasher and Comet—
nope, Christmas that year flew in on vomit.

The whole family was sick; we’d been so for days,
and we spent Yuletide in a dehydrated haze.
The exchanging of gifts was laidback and placid;
we six lolled on couches, exhausted and flaccid.

Mom made a huge bowl of rice pilaf for dinner—
after days of soda crackers, that meal was a winner!
When you’re too weak to speak, it’s harder to fight;
I seemed to remember an okay Christmas night.

Spending Christmas abroad makes you grow up hard and fast,
when you can’t do the things you’ve done in the past;
can’t see the same people, can’t eat the same food—
can’t even leave your room ‘cause they’re paranoid of the flu.

The allure of Korea had long since worn off,
replaced by fatigue and a rattling cough.
I longer for the familiar, but it was so far away—
across the Pacific, behind a whole day.

My family may have fought, but they sure weren’t boring.
I missed them. I wanted to wish them good morning.
I wanted to add to their holiday cheer.
I wanted to hug them. I wanted them near.

On my Christmas night, I stayed up real late,
so I could call my parents once they were awake.
It wasn’t the same, and it wasn’t ideal,
but I wasn’t alone, and Christmas finally felt real.

Korean weddings

I went to the wedding of my head teacher a couple weekends ago. Here are the things I found interesting, in comparison with typical American weddings.

There was a flower girl and a ringbearer; no bridesmaids, no groomsmen. Both the groom and then the bride walked up the aisle, and when they got up there, the only other people onstage were the pastor and both sets of parents, sitting on opposite sides according to their offspring. The bride's dress was a typical foofy gown with a tulle skirt, glitter, etc., and a 10-foot veil (oh yeah, a good-sized tiara, too). She did carry a bouquet. The groom wore a black tux with tails, but on the jacket's front corners and the back of the collar was elaborate white embroidery--a nice touch. The mothers wore traditional hanbok; I don't remember if the fathers were in tuxes or hanbok. All three couples wore white gloves (the bride's were delicate mesh).

The decorations consisted mostly of a few long white banners stretched overhead from the back of the hall to the front and 3' wrought iron stands with silk flowers and lit candles on top. Proudly attached to the very huge white lectern (we're talking 10' wide of a seashell/fan shape) was a 1'x1 1/2' Samsung plaque. Throughout the ceremony, they utilized gelled lighing instruments, an upstage projection screen playing live-action wedding footage, dry ice fog, and a bubble machine.

The music was interesting. They had a few live instrumentalists, a soloist, and a choir, the latter being the most entertaining. At one point in their song, the choristers shouted a "3--2--1--blastoff!", during which the groom picked up the bride in the over-the-threshold-style and bounced her up and down in time to the countdown. Her hoop skirt wasn't rather the best thing to hide her lacy bloomers at that point.

There was a bow to both sets of parents (to the bride's first, wherein the groom bowed all the way down to the ground) and some hugs; there was a lighting and blowing out of two candles on the tier cake, which was then given one downward slice; there were a couple prayers--but I couldn't figure out what was the equivalent of exchanging vows.

Given the number of engaged women I know who live in Korea right now, I think my yearly wedding tally is going to drop way below average. Down from roughly five to one--not bad, not bad.