When I was a Kid...: Memories of middle childhood in south Korean during 1970s

By Bill Voelker

     Step back in time to 1970s South Korea and embark on an extraordinary journey with a young boy. In this captivating memoir, the author shares heartfelt stories from his childhood, weaving a tapestry of emotions that will leave you deeply moved and yearning for more. Each chapter is a gem on its own, but together, th

• Language: English
• Publisher: 4D LTD
• Release date: Jun 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088167007

Bill Voelker

Bill Voelker was adopted from South Korea at the age of 11 in 1976. He and his wife, Sonnie, have been married since 1994 and currently reside in St. Paul, Minnesota. They have two sons, Joseph and Jonathan.

Book preview

When I was a kid...

Bill Voelker

Memories of middle childhood growing up in South Korea during the 1970s

WHEN THE TREES DANCE

We were on a mission to find the perfect wind, anxious to see if the new kite would gracefully fly. We tried the nearby mountain first, at the highway marker 176, a renowned location for launching remote-control gliders.

The luck was not with us. It was as calm as the day at a beach when the pelicans could not glide.

Daddy, can we go to the airport? Joseph asked, recalling my words about the openness there, where the wind sways and flows.

Sure! I replied, embracing the spirit of our adventure.

It was a pleasant drive coasting down the mountain, with sprawling acres of vineyard passing us by. We stopped at the end of the Airport Drive. Again, the wind slept.

Can I run? Joseph asked suddenly.

Of Course!

I held the kite high as he took off, swinging his legs wide. The kite flew up for a few seconds, hovering only inches off the ground.

That was fun! Joseph screamed, trying to be heard over the rumbling of an airplane nearby.

Yup! Indeed, Joseph, it certainly was! Let’s come back when it’s windy, when the trees dance.

Okay, Daddy, Jonathan suddenly jumped in, Windy day, when the trees dance!

On our way home, my mind filled with vivid memories from my own childhood, when I, too, chased after the wind and dreams. Although the kite refused to soar, it seemed like a good day for storytelling.

We settled comfortably, sipping ice-cold tea brimming to the rim, ready to embark on a tale. With a glimmer in my eyes, I began, When I was a kid...

Joseph, one of the author’s two sons, trying to launch a kite at Livermore, California.

OUR SECOND HOUSE

I barely remember our first house. It stood on a hill in the center of a busy city, Incheon. Being quite young at that time, I only have bits and pieces of memories from that period.

Across the street lived twin brothers who used to coast down the hill on their tricycle, one holding on to the other for dear life. It was terrifying enough, just watching them

screaming by.

I remember the mosquito trucks, emitting disinfectants throughout the neighborhood, and how other children and I swam through the thick smoke trails they left behind.

In contrast to our first home, I have much clearer and more cherished memories of our second house. We moved there when I was just a toddler.

Nestled among the fields of fruit trees and rice paddies on the outskirts of Incheon, our place stood among a cluster of traditional Korean houses, also known Hanok (Korean: 한옥). It was a thing of classic beauty, with its large wooden pillars and clay-tiled roof. The main part of the house boasted two sizable elevated rooms with firebox-heated floors. To enter, we took off our shoes before stepping up to the ample open space between the rooms, daecheong maru (Korean: 대청마루),