Henry’s Father Quotes in Native Speaker
I know over the years my father and his friends got together less and less. Certainly, after my mother died, he didn’t seem to want to go to the gatherings anymore. But it wasn’t just him. They all got busier and wealthier and lived farther and farther apart. Like us, their families moved to big houses with big yards to tend on weekends, they owned fancy cars that needed washing and waxing. They joined their own neighborhood pool and tennis clubs and were making drinking friends with Americans. […] And in the end my father no longer belonged to any ggeh, he complained about all the disgraceful troubles that were now cropping up, people not paying on time or leaving too soon after their turn getting the money. In America, he said, it’s even hard to stay Korean.
“So what’s her name?” Lelia asked after a moment.
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
I told her that I didn’t know. That I had never known.
“What’s that you call her, then?” she said. “l thought that was her name. Your father calls her that, too.”
“It’s not her name,” I told her. “It’s not her name. It’s just a form of address.”
It was the truth. Lelia had great trouble accepting this stunning ignorance of mine.
If anything, I think my father would choose to see my deceptions in a rigidly practical light, as if they were similar to that daily survival he came to endure, the need to adapt, assume an advantageous shape.
My ugly immigrant’s truth, as was his, is that I have exploited my own. […] This forever is my burden to bear. […] Here is the sole talent I ever dared nurture. Here is all of my American education.
Henry’s Father Quotes in Native Speaker
I know over the years my father and his friends got together less and less. Certainly, after my mother died, he didn’t seem to want to go to the gatherings anymore. But it wasn’t just him. They all got busier and wealthier and lived farther and farther apart. Like us, their families moved to big houses with big yards to tend on weekends, they owned fancy cars that needed washing and waxing. They joined their own neighborhood pool and tennis clubs and were making drinking friends with Americans. […] And in the end my father no longer belonged to any ggeh, he complained about all the disgraceful troubles that were now cropping up, people not paying on time or leaving too soon after their turn getting the money. In America, he said, it’s even hard to stay Korean.
“So what’s her name?” Lelia asked after a moment.
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
I told her that I didn’t know. That I had never known.
“What’s that you call her, then?” she said. “l thought that was her name. Your father calls her that, too.”
“It’s not her name,” I told her. “It’s not her name. It’s just a form of address.”
It was the truth. Lelia had great trouble accepting this stunning ignorance of mine.
If anything, I think my father would choose to see my deceptions in a rigidly practical light, as if they were similar to that daily survival he came to endure, the need to adapt, assume an advantageous shape.
My ugly immigrant’s truth, as was his, is that I have exploited my own. […] This forever is my burden to bear. […] Here is the sole talent I ever dared nurture. Here is all of my American education.
