Japan’s Affect on a Single Korean Lifespan

Take this as my disclaimer: I don’t know those Korean people in that make shift photograph (clearly a “screen selection” of a general search), nor do professionals approve of showing those of unsolicited individuals, families or precious heirlooms . . . . let alone anyone’s beautiful face.

Only a public figure is considered “open season”, as they made the choice to sacrifice their privacy to become what has been dubbed a “celebrity” . . . . whatever that’s supposed to mean.

I’m not sure what one is actually celebrating about a human being, who eats, sleeps, drinks, farts, defecates, urinates and may have other personal problems we REALLY do not want to know about . . . . yet eventually someone talks, and then we can’t help but know.

This is what gets to me . . . . What has happened to simple “curiosity”?

I had a rescue cat, and learning a funny lesson by naming him . . . . I changed his name to resemble mine, and called him plain ole “Kat”, but it never came out as simple as that. It was always some sort of creative derivative.

To this I can attest . . . . Cats do not die from their curiosity, but from listening to my mother from South Korea . . . . and watching the changes in the USA, I’m beginning to draw a different conclusion.


I’m thinking the lack of curiosity can cause the demise of a once standing and great nation. Yes, I am referring to the good ole . . . . U.S. of A.

Until someone decides to pay attention, I’m more than willing to repeat myself, because I’m an American Patriot . . . . taught patriotism by my very American Korean mother . . . . who also taught me to cherish and respect our Veterans far above any other . . . . must remember my elders!

She of ALL people, taught me to appreciate our freedom . . . . she and her beautiful Korean friends exemplified and taught me solidarity, camaraderie . . . . yet all the while totally and joyfully assimilating in this great land.

Many if not all of those beautiful women have since passed away. My mother was always, and is to this day . . . . the most respected in their cultural hierarchy of respect.

The few remaining are no longer geographically near, therefore options are limited to reaching her by telephone . . . . and my mother set a restriction on the time they can call, plus her hearing has declined so nothing is clear.

Somewhere else, I made reference to the many sacrifices she’s made. My mother gave to others in need, when we had little ourselves. She’s literally taken the coat off her back and given it to someone else.

Who does that?

She’s done it since she came to this great land . . . . it takes knowing true poverty, and she explained it to me . . . . again.

As a child rationing a bowl of rice, my mother wanted to eat it all . . . . there was no meat, maybe at times ‘some’ broth . . . . but only if lucky . . . . if there were such thing as “luck”, and their staple was always kimchee.

She had to save some rice for later . . . . it was her responsibility as a child, to restrain and discipline her own young self, in order to satisfy her natural desire to eat . . . . added on top . . . . there were NO nutrients.

No nutrients for a child, left with a bowl of rice to ration for one day.

People are worried about their cellphones. Am I right? Check and see, is it okay?

Very calmly and with very little emphasis, my Korean mother says in response to anything I may say in reference to being poor with, “You girls know nothing about poverty” . . . . and nothing more.

My Korean mother is doggedly determined, but you don’t know half of it . . . . and honestly, I’m completely aware . . . . I don’t either. Some of us know that certain topics remain “off limits” . . . . unless by God’s Grace He provides a safe time and place.

For those who’ve been fortunate . . . . thus far, I’m referring to those who have experienced surviving . . . . “trauma”.

With no TV, I read, have written quite a bit, and just finished a marathon viewing of videos . . . . but not only that, when I delve into a subject . . . . my search is to always find gold.

So I listened to every single podcast Mike Rowe has read or told to date, beginning with his most recent, and ending way back . . . . at his first. In other words I listened to them backwards. I do that.

He and I share many “Dirty Jobs” in common in very different ways, but the most common thread I found was the man named . . . . Paul Harvey.

So, there’s “Harvey” mentioned for the fourth time by me, but Mike Rowe sparked my innate curiosity about history . . . . yet again.

It takes me back to South Korea, and my mother growing up under the Japanese controlling South Korea . . . . so I decided to sit at her time of leisure, and have a bit of an interview.

There’s no hard evidence of what I’m about to present, and this historic woman is still alive . . . . Why hasn’t anything about her life sparked the curiosity of history possibly repeating itself?

My mother remembers Korea as a whole entire country. This is going to be really simple.


Before WWII, Korea was one country. North Korea never had freedom or ever had a chance because Russia got ahold of them and fed them their agenda after WWII. (Those are pretty much my mother’s words.)

This is how Korea got divided between North and South. My mother said,

“North Korea has never has a taste of freedom, and doesn’t know what freedom is like after Japanese got ahold of us.”

Going to school in WWII while learning to speak Japanese, there’s one song that has lingered on . . . .

This is translated by my mother from South Korea, who learned it in Japanese, who translates back into Korean in her mind, then into English for me . . . . to share with you:

“Hate American flag, tall and big nose, stupid and don’t know 2+2=4 . . . . and cries hitting the blackboard, that much American’s stupid . . . . That’s what that means.

They teach them like that, so at an early age it doesn’t go away.”

And sure enough it didn’t. She can recite it in Japanese to this very day. She calculates math rapidly in Japanese, translates it back into Korean, then into English . . . . before I can answer the math equation. It’s fascinating to hear her do it too!

Do you grasp the dual language in a country? Can you identify the purpose of introducing it and indoctrinating children?

Watch . . . . better yet, read.

During WWII (World War Two), Japanese took control over the government, and at school she spoke Japanese, but at home spoke Korean.

My mother was approximately eight (8) through ten (10) years old then the war (WWII) ended.

She said,

When I was in fourth grade, I had to learn Korean alphabet all over again, because the United States gave us freedom again.”

I’m going to do a little loop-de-loop here, and fill in a few visual gaps.

There was no propaganda in the form of visual aids. The Korean children never saw a picture of the American Flag, nor any figure of an American person.

This is why music is dangerous, but people don’t quite grasp the concept. They listen to it like nobody’s business, even teach their children words, let them dress like the singer and dance inappropriately.

Then the dance move catches on, next thing you know you see the cops bringing neighborhoods together and everyone is dancing the seemingly harmless song and dance together.

Am I right?

Hard downshift of a segue here!

(Seriously, it’s only a photo of steam rising from a pipe . . . . I know better than to do something like that.)

ONLY steam

My mother realizes she and her family were extremely fortunate, OK? The bomb she heard explode was the police department nearby.

No need to go any further.

Communism 101:

  • Infiltrate the educational system,
  • Control the children or teach the children to sing,
  • Target the police.

Do you notice anything?

Then it goes on, but I’m not going there . . . . Yet.

Do you love your Freedom that much? Did you know all that? Do you have foresight, or better yet . . . . can you see what is happening right before your very own eyes? Are you really a red blooded American Patriot?

What are you willing to sacrifice? What does your freedom mean to you?

Do you really care?

I mean . . . . do you REALLY care?

bigMONEY jar

That was only ONE war . . . . so far.

©IM Infusion Musings