Oldest Brother, it was that he was not your typical model student. He was a mischievous troublemaker as well. Father never used his cane on us, but Third Brother was the sole exception. For he would take an entire box of instant ramyeon noodles from the store or steal our neighbor’s chicken with the neighborhood boys.
But at the same time, every chance he got he was writing in his notebook, endlessly erasing and writing and erasing again. Wherever you opened in his notebook, the page was filled with small letters, hazy like fog. His love of writing was so strong that it made me wonder why he had chosen to major in law and not in literature. Because this was who he was, I did not have the confidence to say to him that I wanted to be a writer.
“You have the composure.” When I don’t answer, Third Brother begins again. “You have the composure. So you will make a good writer. I want you totake over my aspiration as well.” Third Brother continues. “I’m going to be a prosecutor and help lift up our family.”
One Sunday, Cousin and I go to a tailor shop near the school we’re going to attend and order our uniforms. Cousin has a very slender waist. I try to steal a glimpse of Cousin’s slender waist but she catches me looking. Cousin gives me a scowl and I panic, then we break into laughter. Being the older one, Cousin takes me to the market in Garibong-dong and treats me to a bowl to ramyeon noodles with a generous topping of rice cake slices to celebrate our new uniforms. I was the one who was so eager to go to school but now I am the cool one while Cousin, who had not cared much, has gotten all excited about ordering new uniforms, her cheeks flushed red as she slurps down the broth.
“After our welcome ceremony at school, let’s go home for a visit. Wearing our uniforms.”
When I don’t answer, Cousin asks again, “Okay?” She keeps pressing me, so I agree to do that. But I wonder if we will find the time.
I turn seventeen and Cousin turns twenty. It is now January 1979, and with the new year life gets busy. Oldest Brother graduates from university and Third Brother begins his first year. Third Brother takes the civil service exam, as Oldest Brother had asked him to, then makes his test results invalid by refusing to show up at the physical exam. Instead, he makes a promise to Oldest Brother. He is going to focus only on his studies so he can get a scholarship and pass the bar exam. Oldest Brother, who will soon be entering his military service, gazes with a tired look at Third Brother.
“I will now be serving the military as a commutingsoldier. I will no longer be able to contribute to our rent. All I ask is that you get by on your own until I am discharged.”
The union and the management seemed to be getting along well for a while, but with the arrival of the new year, the union is going one direction and the management in another. Miss Lee tells us, “You should check out our commercial on TV. It’s really something.”
We don’t even have a radio, let alone a TV. On Sunday, while the two of us are at the store to buy laundry detergent, Cousin, suddenly pulling my arms, screams, “There it is!”
On the TV screen in the room behind the store, a pretty woman with long hair, wearing a leather jacket and headphones, sings along to a foreign song. Then she smiles, saying, “Dongnam Stereo, Dongnam Stereo.” As the words “Dongnam Stereo” reverberate, creating an echo effect, the stereo system that we have soldered and assembled with screws fills the screen in its full splendor.
As she opens the detergent packet, Cousin says, “You know that song just now?”
“What song?”
“That song that the woman in the headphones was singing just now advertising our product.”
It’s now become a habit for us to say “our product” instead of “stereo.” “What about that song?”
“It’s by Smokie. ‘What Can I Do!’”
“Who’s Smokie?”
“This group that I like. They
But at the same time, every chance he got he was writing in his notebook, endlessly erasing and writing and erasing again. Wherever you opened in his notebook, the page was filled with small letters, hazy like fog. His love of writing was so strong that it made me wonder why he had chosen to major in law and not in literature. Because this was who he was, I did not have the confidence to say to him that I wanted to be a writer.
“You have the composure.” When I don’t answer, Third Brother begins again. “You have the composure. So you will make a good writer. I want you totake over my aspiration as well.” Third Brother continues. “I’m going to be a prosecutor and help lift up our family.”
One Sunday, Cousin and I go to a tailor shop near the school we’re going to attend and order our uniforms. Cousin has a very slender waist. I try to steal a glimpse of Cousin’s slender waist but she catches me looking. Cousin gives me a scowl and I panic, then we break into laughter. Being the older one, Cousin takes me to the market in Garibong-dong and treats me to a bowl to ramyeon noodles with a generous topping of rice cake slices to celebrate our new uniforms. I was the one who was so eager to go to school but now I am the cool one while Cousin, who had not cared much, has gotten all excited about ordering new uniforms, her cheeks flushed red as she slurps down the broth.
“After our welcome ceremony at school, let’s go home for a visit. Wearing our uniforms.”
When I don’t answer, Cousin asks again, “Okay?” She keeps pressing me, so I agree to do that. But I wonder if we will find the time.
I turn seventeen and Cousin turns twenty. It is now January 1979, and with the new year life gets busy. Oldest Brother graduates from university and Third Brother begins his first year. Third Brother takes the civil service exam, as Oldest Brother had asked him to, then makes his test results invalid by refusing to show up at the physical exam. Instead, he makes a promise to Oldest Brother. He is going to focus only on his studies so he can get a scholarship and pass the bar exam. Oldest Brother, who will soon be entering his military service, gazes with a tired look at Third Brother.
“I will now be serving the military as a commutingsoldier. I will no longer be able to contribute to our rent. All I ask is that you get by on your own until I am discharged.”
The union and the management seemed to be getting along well for a while, but with the arrival of the new year, the union is going one direction and the management in another. Miss Lee tells us, “You should check out our commercial on TV. It’s really something.”
We don’t even have a radio, let alone a TV. On Sunday, while the two of us are at the store to buy laundry detergent, Cousin, suddenly pulling my arms, screams, “There it is!”
On the TV screen in the room behind the store, a pretty woman with long hair, wearing a leather jacket and headphones, sings along to a foreign song. Then she smiles, saying, “Dongnam Stereo, Dongnam Stereo.” As the words “Dongnam Stereo” reverberate, creating an echo effect, the stereo system that we have soldered and assembled with screws fills the screen in its full splendor.
As she opens the detergent packet, Cousin says, “You know that song just now?”
“What song?”
“That song that the woman in the headphones was singing just now advertising our product.”
It’s now become a habit for us to say “our product” instead of “stereo.” “What about that song?”
“It’s by Smokie. ‘What Can I Do!’”
“Who’s Smokie?”
“This group that I like. They
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