Hungry

"You don't know what it is like to be hungry..."  This has been my mother's advice since I was a picky eater as a child until this day, when I am still calling her to complain that I am not making my living the way I want.  "If you knew what it is to be hungry, everything would taste good."

...My favorite story to hear her tell was about living in an apartment house full of single young women in Busan, South Korea.  They all got paid only once a month.  Not only was there nothing left over to save, she also frequently needed store credit to have enough to eat before her next paycheck.  She was so careful to stay within her budget that she often let herself starve several of the last days.

Nevertheless, when she received her money, she was not miserly.  She would go to the store, pay her debt and purchase more than enough for all the girls in the apartment house to come over for dinner.  It was a shocking experience for one new tenant the first time she was invited.  "Are you celebrating?" she asked.

My mother pulled her in and lied, "Sure- It's my birthday!"

Everyone ate and laughed and forgot the weeks of struggle for a moment... And the next day, the new tenant knocked on my mother's door with a package.  "What is this for?"  my mother asked.

"It's your birthday present," the girl apologized for having attended the party unprepared.

...I don't think my mother had the heart to disappoint her with the truth... The irony was that- when my mother was left at a Buddhist temple as a toddler, she lived several years not knowing what a birthday was, much-less that she had one.  Later, when she was living in service of another family and saw them celebrate, she imagined birthdays were something that one had to be born privileged to have.

When my father found her and fell in love with her and insisted she join him in the United States, she had no idea what freedom was awaiting her!  She finally had a partner who cared for her and supported her.  She was able to pursue the education that she was denied as a child.  ...and she had three children- whose birthdays she always celebrated with beautiful cakes and gifts to unwrap- even if they were sometimes only socks and underwear.  She always, always, always fed us and left it up to us to learn for ourselves what it is to be hungry.

...So while I do not know whether my writing or my music or any of my other passions will ever generate enough income to pay my bills and buy my food, I know that this world is full of possibilities beyond what my mother could teach me, beyond what I can imagine... and I am choosing a life in which I will not crave fancy cars or expensive clothing.  My desire for a life less ordinary is derived in earnest, not out a lust for fame- but because I feel I have something to say worth being heard.  Something that some other child somewhere may hear and feel hopeful... that another mother may hear and realize her stories and secrets may someday turn into her daughter's strength.  I write and sing for these women... so that my mother's legacy may live longer than either of us.