_{^{~Groovin' With Soccamom~}}

That doesn't look like a funny statement, does it?  Well, I guess it's just because you didn't hear me write that in my mother's accent.  She's not Chinese either, by the way.  She is, though, half Korean and half Japanese but rarely calls herself anything but Korean.  That in itself is a long story about her and since this is all about me, I will get to that part.
 
This tale is dichotomous and I've yet to decide if I will cover both parts in one entry, or even if I am able.
 
First, I hate how so many Americans can't tell their ass from a hole in the ground or a Korean from a Philipino from a Vietnamese.  As recently as yesterday I heard someone say that "you can't tell them apart anyway."  It's not that I have the market cornered on telling the difference, but jeez, I can get it straight more than 80% of the time! 
 
A few weeks ago at the mall, I was stopped by some guy selling lotion.  He had an accent that the American side of me couldn't place and he was trying to guess my origins.  His guesses in this order were Brazillian, something that I can't remember, and Philipino.  When the answer to all three was "no," he said that I must have been sunning a lot and was I more tan than normal.  He was obviously not American. 
 
If I haven't been clear enough as yet, let me elaborate on myself.  I was born in America, raised here in the Midwest and until high school, I was the only Asian-type person in school.  The only foreign languages I speak are school level French and some Latin and New testament Greek that I studied in college. 
 
I don't really feel that I have rebuffed the Asian part of my heritage, but the only relatives I know are Mom and her sister whom I've met twice in my life.  I don't really feel the urge to "visit the homeland," if the only option is Korea where I wouldn't know anyone  and don't
speak the language.   (Well, I can count to 10 and say mommy but that won't get me too far.)  And why is it that no one dwells on the Anglo-Saxon side?  That's just as strong, if not stronger.  Dad is English and German and my maiden name comes  straight off the German boat.  I know why and so do you.
 
Yet I was surprised by an incident that happened in college.  I was working at the front desk of our dorm when a lady walked thru the lobby, glanced at me and did a double take.  She stopped and gave me a huge, condescending smile and said, "Are you Korean?"  I said, "Yes, but only half."  She then asked if I knew Kim Moon Park "he's Korean, too" she informed me.  Well, lady at a school of 18 thousand students do you really think that all of us gooks know each other?  That we all gravitate to some Eastern slope for secret goings-on?  Then, continuing to smile that supercillious smile as if I were the cutest little Korean creature that she had ever seen, she says, "That's so sweet, you still have an accent."  French? Midwestern twang?  No0000, she couldn't mean a Korean accent, could she?  Nearly twenty years later the incident still bugs me, can you tell?
 
I think the other part will have to come later.  Tune in for more angst.
 
 


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