Heart and Seoul
When their fourth daughter was born in
1966, my parents were pretty well settled into a place in life that they
had worked hard to reach. They had purchased a house in a great
neighborhood, Dad was building his surgical practice with a reliable
partner and friend, and the girls were happy and healthy. It was a
turbulent time for America though, in the thick of a violent mess in Vietnam.
Mom and Dad were keeping an eye on things, as a physician Dad was still
technically eligible for the draft until he turned 35. By the time they
discovered that baby number five was on her way, he was over 34 and
they thought they were home free.
Everything
started falling apart in June when Joe got a notice from the draft
ordering him to active duty! He tried for deferments; he was now 34
years old with four children and the fifth on the way. We wrote to
everyone right up to the President, but received the same standard
replies – we need him. His orders arrived shortly thereafter – the
address was APO San Francisco. I said ‘well, California will be nice,’ but Joe told me that APO San Francisco was Korea – an unaccompanied tour – we were devastated!
Why Korea? Excellent question. Korea
was a United Nations Command, and there were 60,000 American troops
stationed there at the time, as well as diplomats and civilian
dependents, all of whom needed doctors to care for them. So naturally
the Army chose a 34 year old father of 5 and shipped him over there for a
13 month tour, which was considered too short a time to transport
dependent family members.
Mom
had undergone an emergency c-section with her last baby (Julie has
always been the difficult one), and with her due date just 2 months
later, my parents knew that the next baby would also take the front door
out of mom’s prolific womb. The c-section was scheduled for August 21st, Dad’s orders were to report to basic training on August 22nd. But the US Army is neither heartless nor rigid; of course they extended his deployment date! They gave him three weeks.
On September 12, 1967, Joe left for M.D. basic training in San Antonio, Texas
and I was on my own. We both got through that month –probably the worst
in our lives – and he came home for one week on October 10th. We had a great week… We spent his last night alone, had a candlelight dinner after the kids were tucked in…He was off to Seattle, and then on to Korea. He called me from Seattle and that was it.
Mom
and Dad did their best to settle in to their newly massacred lives. Mom
had lots of help from family and friends, Dad had 5 doctor roommates in
his “hooch.” Mom and Dad sent each other audio tapes every day. Every.
Day. If mom didn’t receive her tape one day, she’d haul everyone over to
the post office to see if it had arrived after the postman had left to
make his deliveries.
Aside:
as kids, we had the scandalous pleasure of listening to some of these
tapes many years later. But honestly, all that love and emotion between
our parents was just plain gross.
On
two distant ends of the earth, my parents were frantically searching
for ways to be together. Mom wrote letters. Dad worked the system. There
was housing available for dependents, but there was a strict
hierarchy about who qualified, and our favorite young doc was relatively
low on that totem pole. When a house did become available, first dibs
went to all of the senior officers, who promptly turned it down. For
them it meant prolonging their stay to two years in order to have their
dependents join them, but for a career officer, this cushy 13 month
“hardship tour” in Korea was preferable to any time in Vietnam.
So it was a no-brainer for them to pass on the house. It was a
no-brainer for mom and dad, too. Another year apart versus any length of
time, together, anywhere?
It
was a golden opportunity for us – Joe volunteered to extend his tour
and spend the two years of service there, and for this his entire family
would be brought over! This sounds easy on paper, but it took months of
letters, phone calls, anticipations, disappointments, and finally I
received a telegram on a Saturday morning in February telling me that
that we were on our way – start getting the inoculations! I started that
very day – took everyone over to Dr. Flynn, our longtime pediatrician,
where he started inoculating the girls against plague, cholera, typhus –
you name it!
So, mom and the girls got ready to move to Korea!
The arrangements were staggering, as was the sheer volume of crap –
including a Ford Station Wagon – that would be carried or shipped
overseas for the duration. But there was a plan, and as complicated and
exhausting as that plan was, the end result was our family, together.
When
the day finally came, it turned out that the plan was off to a rocky
start. Mom and the girls were scheduled to fly from JFK to Seattle, then to Tokyo, then to Seoul.
The first flight was okay, but the overseas leg had been cancelled.
Instead of a 3 hour layover at Sea/Tac, they would have to be there
overnight. The mob that had gathered to see them off started to
strategize. It didn’t make any sense for them to go and then have to
deal with taxis and motels and changes of clothes, they should spend the
night at Mom’s brother’s home on Long Island
and make the whole trip the next day. But Mom had hung her dreams on
this departure date. She was coiffed and ready. The girls were ready.
The 17 suitcases that they had begged, borrowed, and stolen were packed
and ready. It was today.
She was going.
My Mom and family were weeping, Sitoo and Uffie (Joe’s mom and sister) were weeping, Dink Brown was weeping – I was grinning from ear to ear!
A motel in Seattle? No problem
for mom. A phone call at 2 am instructing mom that she had to file more
civilian paperwork before heading to the base for their morning flight?
Whatever. They are out of milk for her newborn, infant, toddlers, and kids on this transpacific flight? Okey doke! She could handle anything. She was on her way.
Mom
and the girls (ages: 6 months, 18 months, 4, 6, and 7… go ahead and
imagine that) made lots of nice friends during these travels. For plane
changes, anyone who was “helping” was allowed to pre-board with the
civilians, so there were always at least ten soldiers at Mom’s beck and
call. It wasn’t easy, but it was forward motion. And by the time they boarded a nearly empty flight from Tokyo to Seoul,
they were home free. It was just the family and about 80 servicemen.
There was a steward assigned just to help Mom. He made a bed for each
girl in her own row of seats. They all slept. Mom had her first peaceful
meal in days, and even caught a few winks. She was starting to breathe
again.
Suddenly,
they were descending! The five girls were in their little beds, there
was stuff everywhere, it was cold out and they needed jackets and they
probably all had to pee….
Meanwhile,
on the ground, Dad was frantic. Communication had been shoddy, he had
not received word that their flight had been delayed, so he didn’t know
when they were coming. He had arranged for a car and driver and a truck
and driver to transport his arriving harem and their impressive amount
of gear, and he spent two days driving to Kimpo airport to meet each
incoming plane from Seattle/Tokyo. Twice the caravan had to turn back
disappointed. On the third attempt he asked to see the manifest and
there it was: Corey, Corey, Corey, Corey, Corey, and Corey. They were
here!
On the plane:
The rules said that the civilians had to deplane first, so the
servicemen were all standing by until Mom and the girls could get
themselves out the door. “Can’t he come and help me?”
On the ground: Dad was in the hanger, pleading to be allowed onto the plane, but rules are rules…
On the plane: Ellie still needed to be buttoned into her coat, they were almost ready…
On the ground: Finally, a kind-hearted lieutenant gave Dad a nod and let him on the plane…
I
looked up and there was Joe – I hadn’t seen him in four months! I left
Ellie to finish buttoning her coat and ran into his arms. As we were
kissing, I became aware of applause – all the servicemen on the plane
were standing and cheering – what a scene!
Exactly
268 days later, mom learned how to play honeymoon bridge, and spent the
whole day doing just that with her doctor at Seoul Military Hospital,
while the big girls were at school and the little ones played at home in
the pink stucco duplex by the golf course. Mom was Dr. Jordan’s
only patient, and both were hoping that the pitocin would successfully
jump start labor so this baby could be born “naturally”. When there was
no progress by 7:00 that night, my parents’ sixth daughter was born via
c-section (mom’s third in as many years) on November 19, 1968.
But could someone please check that math? I’m way too young to be forty.
Our two year stay in Seoul
was a wonderful family time, made even more wonderful because after all
those lonely months, we were all together. Jacquie was quite an
attraction in Seoul
with her blue eyes and blonde curls – people would literally stand and
stare at her wherever we went. We had to go to the embassy in Seoul and renounce her Korean citizenship on her behalf before we left Korea.
Thanks
for that, mom and dad. And for being enamored and tenacious enough to
live out this story. I couldn’t have done it without you!
