Fancy

There didn't seem to be any point to this when I wrote it, but a point occurred to me today during my lunchtime walk. Just like how everything old becomes new again; sometimes, everything that was once too-new can become charmingly old , with only the passage of a few decades or so. When it was built, Twinbrook must have seemed garishly new and modern to the Victorian-home dwellers of Rockville. Now it's settled and quaint, with its patina of World War II history and its architecture reminiscent of the late 1940s and early 1950s, which are after all part of a previous century. It's like strolling through a day during the Eisenhower administration.

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As I walked, I saw two little children get into a car and drive away. Well, teenagers. It was 12:30 in the afternoon, and I wondered why they weren't in school, but wondered even more how it's possible that people who were born during the Bush 43 administration are now driving cars. I've become almost accustomed to watching my own son get in his car and drive to school every day, but when I see other young people driving, the whole thing  just seems ridiculous and improbable all over again.

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My husband is Korean, in case you didn't know that. One thing you learn when you're married to a Korean is that Korean people don't necessarily plan family visits--they just show up.  Once a year or so, my mother-in-law will call us, and tell us that relatives from Toronto or New York (but not Korea--not many left over there) have arrived, and that we need to drop what we're doing and commence with the family visitation. And so we do. When I was younger, I might have seen this as an inconvenience but the older I get, the more I realize that nothing matters more than people, and whatever you have to do to accommodate them is worth whatever inconvenience results.

So on Tuesday afternoon, my husband called me at work and told me that his cousin was in town for a conference, and that he wanted to have dinner with us that night. We met him at my sister-in-law's house, and went to our favorite local restaurant.

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When I first started shopping at Korean grocery stores, I discovered Shilla Bakery. Shilla Bakery is a small chain of stand-alone bakeries that serve the Korean communities, but the company also sells products through Korean stores, like Lotte and H-Mart. We once bought a Shilla Bakery cake to take to a party, because I liked the slogan printed on the box: "Shilla Bakery. It Make a Deep Impression on Your Mind." The cake tasted like a stick of butter mixed with confectioner's sugar, and then lightly dusted with flour. Ten years later, I can still taste it.

So wait. That box was telling the truth!

Anyway, my husband's out-of-town cousin came bearing gifts, including a box of giant Korean pears (which are a story all to themselves) and a fancy cake from another Korean bakery. I knew that it was a fancy cake, because it said so, right on the box:

Any questions? 

Most of the box is in English and French. I didn't check the French grammar, but the English is idiomatic, to put it kindly. I do love the little truck drawing in the upper left-hand corner. With almost 20 years of experience as a Korean by marriage, I'd have recognized this as a Korean product even without the very small Korean label on the bottom of the box. Bon appetit. 잘 먹겠습니다. 


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Every year, on Memorial Day weekend, I joke hat I have no problems that summer can't solve. But a family that I know--not close friends, but friends--have suffered something so awful that nothing in my life can even aspire to problem status. So for now, I have no problems, period. Happy Summer.