An Obscure, but Touching, Creekbank Story
This story is from my first short story collection, Stories from the Creekbank. I hadn’t thought about this story in years. It still touches me as I re-read it after all of these years. Enjoy. Love is still love… in any language Now where do I start in describing a passionate love affair I became involved in a few years ago. I didn’t plan for it to be exactly like this… I didn’t plan to fall in love and have my heart stolen, by a group of thirteen South Korean young people. So let me start at the beginning as to how my life was so touched by this special group. When a Korean‑American named James Kim first called concerning a camp for Koreans wanting to learn English, I was somewhat skeptical. We often hear from groups with grand ideas and many times these ideas never “take on flesh” and actually happen. And the idea of a group coming from Korea to the great metropolis of Dry Creek was pretty grand (and far‑fetched). But as the fall of 1996 rolled on, the ZOE (This means “real life”) English Camp began to take shape and become a reality. So on the night after Christmas 1996, I sat waiting anxiously for this group to arrive from Baton Rouge via Seoul and Detroit, Michigan. Another reason for my anxiety was the fear of never removing the strong smell of Korean food cooking in our kitchen as a group of their ladies cooked a welcoming meal. The strong odors of garlic, cooked seaweed, and “Kim Chi,” a fermented cabbage dish, greeted anyone entering. I thought to myself, “What have we got ourselves into for the next three weeks?” Then they walked through the Dining Hall door. All much younger than I had imagined (ages 9–14). All looking tired and as if they were 12,000 miles from home. Few spoke any English save giving their names and a heavily accented “Hello.” They were all so quiet. Little did I know that this quietness and shyness would soon disappear! The first couple of days were spent getting situated and recovering from jet lag. On their third day at camp we began touring Dry Creek. When we visited Harper and Morgan’s rodeo pens, their main interest was with the fire ant mounds. They gathered around a mound and cautiously poked it with a stick. As the fire ants came roaring out, the kids emitted a loud “Ahhh” (their favorite reaction to any event or startling statement.) I explained through “Tec,” one of their interpreters, about fire ants. I mentioned how newborn calves can be stung to death if laying in a fire ant bed. This brought great comment in Korean among the group. James Kim later told me that many wrote their parents stating, “In America, there are ants that will kill you.” As we rode out into the field in their van, we were followed by the rodeo bulls. Ahead of us the cowboys in their truck led us out to the resident buffalo. You should have seen and heard the commotion from these city slickers, from a city of 10 million people, as they saw their first buffalo up close. One commented from the van (this was interpreted to me): “I feel like we are at Jurassic Park.” Later we visited King’s dairy farm. Our guests got to feed calves with a bottle. But the main event was watching the milking of the cows. Mike King explained the process as he attached the milkers to each cow’s bag. As the milk gushed through the pipes to the accompanying sound of the milk machine, many comments went excitedly back and forth among our guests. My favorite one (interpreted to me) was, “I’ll never drink milk again as long as I live.” From that Saturday on, they were no longer strangers but quickly becoming friends. Their shyness was quickly disappearing also. One of the oldest boys, Won Jun, whom we called Mark, asserted himself as the resident prankster and wit. (All of them went by English names they selected during their stay at Dry Creek.) Another young boy, whom I called “Bull,” quickly fit in at camp by getting a fine black eye from a swinging golf club. I watched his shiner closely hoping it disappeared before his mother saw it at the end of January. I am happy to report that Bull left Dry Creek minus his black eye. All of their personalities continued to bloom. But of the ten boys and three girls, “Sarah” became our all-favorite. Sarah was a small frail eleven-year-old. She was by far the smallest of the group. She had a skin disorder that made her very shy and aloof from the other children. In addition, she ate so little that I feared for her health. But she also possessed a deep curiosity of everything and everyone around her. This curiosity and her winning smile won us all over. Sarah became very dear to all of us. In spite of the language barrier, we all communicated fairly well. I learned that a smile is understood in any language. Sometimes if we were speaking to one of the young people with no adult to interpret, they would become confused. The Koreans adopted a very quick solution when they became confused by our English questioning. They simply said “Bye” and quickly turned and ran. They were all amazed at American culture. When I asked one boy what amazed him most about America, he replied, “Wal-Mart.” Each weekday the Koreans were busy with classes in English grammar and conversation at the White House. At 1:00 they were scheduled for lunch but never arrived on time. We jokingly called it “Korean time.” I began telling them the time of an event thirty minutes earlier than it was. In spite of this, they still arrived late. So sometimes after 1:00 they would come streaming into the dining hall, books under their arms, laughing
