What kind of relationship
The club house of his golf course. Behind him is his house.
Was it about 18 years ago? It’s about the second year of immigration as a newcomer. This is the time when Indians took over the laundry and struggled day and night. It was a difficult time when I was struck by a panic-like shock after knowing the cunning face of the white people who were poor at speaking and trying a new laundry business, and above all, they thought they were angels.
One summer Saturday. I closed the door at 5 o’clock and went to a nearby golf course to comfort my mind and body. Four of them became Hanzo with two white young men and one Asian. When I just said hello at Tea Box #1, I thought that the Asian was Japanese. He had a visual that would make it impossible to think of a delivery people as much as nails. Once the man raised his back hair, and after that, he put on a little perm, and his kinship consciousness attracted to the good-looking eyes didn’t work at all. What is it like. Whether Japanese or Chinese, one round is over…
When I took the 1st hole tee shot and the 2nd shot, something similar to Korean was rubbed in my ears. It sounded like a’shoelace’, but my head was tilted. I thought Japanese could have similar pronunciation. In Hall 2, I intentionally moved in close contact with the person. If he didn’t like the shot, words he didn’t know jumped out of his mouth. After hearing it a few times, it was closer to Korean, not Japanese. I took courage and said “Hello” in Korean first. He was amazed. To my eyes, it meant that I didn’t see myself as Korean.
When I woke up, I poured out words without saying anyone first. To sum it up, he said that he came from Alberta to take a two-day lesson pro certification exam at this golf course from tomorrow, and that he challenged with the feeling of doing something for just playing, rather than trying to get a job with that certification. He talked about immigration and talked about the current Alberta game, the economic activities of Korean immigrants, and golf tournaments without borders. He had a good talk and confidence. In what he said, Alberta said there were significantly fewer Korean immigrants than Vancouver, so he knew everything in one leg. So I asked if I knew my middle school friend Kim Mo. He pretended to be surprised again. He said he was a friend who lives next door and gets along very close. The true world is narrow. It didn’t seem like a coincidence that living more than 1,000 kilometers away and knowing the same people.
“Because our house is near the e-golf’s book, why don’t we stay and eat at home?” he suggested. He gladly said okay. When I took a stranger I met at the golf course home just because I was Korean, my wife was a bit embarrassed. At that time, it was unliterate to not serve others as much as possible because it was in the position of a side room of someone else’s house. With thoughts now. At that time, there was a lack of deep thinking to measure the position of the wife and children. After dinner, she emptied her room. My wife said quietly. It’s all right, but I couldn’t turn it back. Staying overnight like this, he went to a nearby motel to see if he sensed the cold air. This ended the day with him.
10 August 2020. Kamloops.
I went on a golf tour there as well as a summer vacation. Round 4 in 3 days and 2 nights between Sundays. It was a tight schedule, but there wasn’t a big deal because I prepared enough food by riding the power cart. Sunday the first day. After driving about 380 kilometers, I made one round and the next day was 36 holes. After the morning round, I decided to go to another place, do one round, and barbecue in the golf course there. When we arrived at the golf course for the second round, a Korean-American owner met us there. He was him. The head was all turned white, but it was tall and the appearance was the same. “You’ll recognize me,” he said first. He pretended to be friendly and acquainted with the song. It is a strange relationship. Only connected to golf. Anyway, I sang a hot handshake.
After finishing 18 holes, he went to the specially prepared barbecue. We were waiting for our party with a long table outdoors, ready to grill meat on charcoal next to it. He didn’t hand over tongs even though I was going to bake it. Leaving behind my sorry feelings, I threw alcohol and meat rice into my hunger. When the interval increased a little, I looked around the surrounding landscape. Various vegetables were waiting for the owner who built a house and lived in the golf course, brewing rice, and cooking. Because of the party, I couldn’t talk about personally, but it seems that I sometimes compressed the trajectory of life and talked to each other, but I didn’t know what they said the next morning or what they heard. So the second relationship with him ended.
Where will the third be in years?