Thursday, May 27, 2010
Since You've Been Gone
I am Bolt. Or Penny, Or Nemo, or any of many other characters in movies that Natalie has seen and loves to play out. At any one time, I, her chief playmate for all the time she's been in Korea, not only watch movies with her and help her to navigate the messages and morals, but also join her in bringing them to life on our walks, on playgrounds, and just anywhere she happens to remember to focus on them.However, since her mother has left Korea to try her hand at getting a natural birth in the U.S. after the 11th-hour caesarean that brought forth Natalie, that type of movie role play has dwindled to near-nothing--due to the fact that going to school with me every day has left her little time for TV and less for computer movie-watching. The only remnant is the personalities of her favorite TV characters that she asks to talk to through my voicings. She candidly addresses Timmy the Lamb, Mickey Mouse (and his associates), the Care Bears, and a few others. Timmy the Lamb doesn't speak, just makes lamb sounds, but I tend to speak in a bleat and Natalie doesn't object; she loves to do the same. But her memory holds everything. She asked during the school day yesterday to watch a one-time favorite movie, Annie, but when we got home, neither of us bothered to think about it. However, we did spend time in the otherwise-empty playground area behind the house at 10:00 pm, which was just as happy a time for her as daytime would have been, seeing that her usual gang--me--was all there.
In important ways, such as the virtual elimination of screen time, the three weeks gone since her mother has left have been a departure from the 14 months she was here. Once, her mother remarked that perhaps I wasn't getting the extra time with Natalie that I thought coming to Korea would provide; now, there's never a time when I am not with her, and, though I don't regret that, I understand better the human need for alone time. Because of the necessity, however, I also have become more aware of the necessity of being resolved to clean up my own character for Natalie's benefit, since I can clearly and constantly see the bridge under construction between what I do and say and how she is developing.
Everything we've experienced, we've experienced together. For example, there was a fire. A big, municipal spectacle of a multi-fire truck hosedown blaze. And believe me, the people came out for it. Friday, May 14, saw us at E-Mart following a thick cloud of billowing smoke just before sundown for about 1/2 mile until we reached the area's collection of outlet malls (fortunately, I had our camera with me, and I was able to take some video footage). There on a road intersecting a main artery and directly behind the large building on the corner, we witnessed the first structure of that size either of us had ever seen in full and uncontrollable burn. By the time were finally standing just across the street from it, we were straining to get a good glimpse behind a wall of emergency vehicles and a sidewalk full of interested onlookers. We spent about 90 minutes walking up and down, Natalie being both carried and sometimes led by the hand. She expressed both excitement and confusion about the whole phenomenon, a childhood candid reflection of the similar but less brought out adult reaction. Of course, we both put up with a smoky and heated atmosphere; with crowds of jostling and far-too-interested onlookers; with the plight of being between between avid, excitable interest and some unutterable amount of regret on behalf of the structure and the people directly involved. If Natalie could have helped or had been otherwise asked to be involved, I really think she might have had the desire, but I can't be so sure of the will. We agreed afterward upon the hope of never again being present at such a spectacle. Since then, in this obvious way she has been affected: When we are out and she smells a burning from anywhere, she remembers the fire and speculates--not with fear nor uneasiness, but with a certain disinterested resolve to discover it--that the same might be happening around us again. I let her know that we only chanced to see what we did, and that any person's chances of being in position to see such a thing a second time are smaller than minute. Actually, I don't know anything about the chances. I simply formed for my daughter a realistic hope and a reassurance based upon my own experience of 46 years. One thing I cherish as a father that I couldn't rely on before I was married is the power I possess to reassure my daughter Natalie regarding her questionings and expectations, especially of difficult and uncertain experiences.
As I've said, Natalie has been going to school with me, sitting through my classroom day as I teach. The situation so far has been another of those tremendous learning opportunities for me: learning about the ways in which I can expect in one direction and experience in quite another; learning about how much I have to learn about relationships between my daughter and those other children and adults.
Needless to say, her reactions and behavior have not mirrored that of a student nor of a teacher. At the heart of it, what I thought would be a relationship between the students and Natalie of mutual delight and cooperation has revealed how much a mantelpiece she seems to be in the eyes of Koreans and how easily Natalie can be distracted by just anything that will keep her from sitting still for too long. In other circumstances, I expect restlessness of her. In this case, I hoped differently; I saw in my mind much more pedestrian relations and a mutual attraction, for reasons that don't exist.
| posted by John at 11:48 AM
