Life was getting to be more and more routine, boring and lonesome for me as the weeks wore on and I was living by myself. Since cooking was not one of my skills, I ate most of my meals out, visiting first one eatery and then another. Sugar, as my only full time puppy companion, demanded some of my attention, but even that was sporadic. Some kind folks from my place of worship invited me from time to time and I could see they did it more out of a sense of pity for the recent widower, namely me, than for company. Even my kids, being on the East Coast and having families and problems of their own were sparse in their contact and it was mostly up to me to contact them, usually by telephone. One daughter, in particular, the youngest one at that, decided I was in some way responsible for her mother's demise. When she returned home after witnessing the last rites, she decided to forgo any further communication with me. What really upset me however, were several visits by well meaning symphatizers. They had also been widowed over a period of time and tried to console me. I was advised that I will get used to being a widower in a few years and encouraged me to hang in there and make it on my own.

That did it. I said, "No More" to myself, "This Is Silly."
 
 

What I needed was someone to cherish, love and befriend and vice versa. I decided to go "shopping" and ignore any predominant social mores, especially those of others who generally are very outspoken at prescribing what is good for you but not necessarily for themselves. Naturally, I had not been in the market, "looking", for a long time, but fortunately for me I had made some prior contacts. My hobby was philately and I had been exchanging stamps with a number of people from various countries, generally in Western Europe and a few in the Pacific and Far East. I had originally ferreted out some of the more difficult to find hobby, trade and exchange magazines, ( there was no Internet at the time) that were usually published overseas, listing names, addresses and the type of materials people were interested in. By this time, I was corresponding with over a dozen persons regularly, trading stamps and often a small dose of social politeness as well. Then, one day, sort of out of the blue, and prior to my personal tragedy, I received a letter from a person in Korea; the Korean Connection alluded to throughout these STORIES was alive and well. The letter, amazingly written in German, indicated that the originator had gotten my name through a stamp exchange clearing house in Germany and wanted, besides sending a few stamps for my hobby, to mainly practice her German which she had been studying in school for a number of years. I was fascinated by this and somewhat intrigued since Korea was one the countries I collected stamps from, and I added her to my list of correspondents.
 
 

After the loss of my wife, I informed most of my exchange correspondents of that fact, and invariably they responded in kind and understanding ways, often attempting to sincerely provide solace and advice. Several of the writers did more so than others, including my Korean correspondent who it seemed really was very sincere and cared the most. We started to write more often and got to know each other well. We exchanged photos and we struck it off very well. Letters were followed by phone calls and more letters, and before we knew it, we were falling in love, albeit long distance. Finally, I got up enough courage to ask for her hand (of course I would take the rest of her too). That must have caused some commotion at home.  Apparently the vote was solid against such a foolish and impractical notion and her father was so infuriated that he forbade her to have any more contact with me, while her mother was even more upset. It looked like our somewhat distant affair and any plans we may have had were akin to that of shimmering starlight in the deep of night; it seemed pretty bleak for us. For awhile there were no more incoming letters and my phone calls were not relayed nor responded to.
 
 

Luckily my new found love and I were determined and the old saying , "Let No Man Stand Between the Course of True Love," was readily evident in our case. I too made some effort from this end. I had met a Korean lady here who was married to a former American serviceman. I asked her if she would not mind calling my now sweetheart's mother on my phone and putting in a good word for me indicating I was no play-boy or weirdo, but a responsible, conservative citizen who was sincere about wanting to take care of her daughter. It took both of us, that is my new love and myself some four weeks of hard work to have part of the family reconsider their decision. This was a hard task since as many people know, once a Korean has made up his mind there is virtually no chance whatsoever to turn him around. With the help of friends who was supportive, my love's mother relented somewhat and now the family discussed the matter with Dad to try to persuade him to change his mind. One can readily empathize with his concerns. Marrying a foreigner (Koreans like to have their offsprings marry Koreans), the suitor being a widower, moving thousands of miles away from home to an uncertain future in America and a host of similar misgivings must have created quite an anxious environment for Dad. In the end, however, he probably realized that his favorite daughter was strong minded , had the family temperament in her genes and that he may just as well join the rest of the family and give his blessing. It was not easy but finally I got a call from my bethrothed indicating she had gotten parental approval to marry me, although she was of an age where she did not really have to ask in American terms, but such an action is unthinkable in a Korean family. We quickly resumed where we had left off, and with a greater intensity, if that were possible than even before.
 
 

Though it was not necessary, I did contact my oldest daughter. She thought it very unwise for me to proceed, although she did indicate, well if it had to be it would be better to marry a Korean than someone else. I also spoke to my son, who merely repeated an old adage, "The More Power To You Dad" and thought it would be fine for as long as it lasted, which was not exactly a vote of confidence in my book. I decided to make preparations for my trip to Korea. Passport, Visa, prepayments of three months on most bills, arrangements with my neighbor to keep an eye on the house and trucks, and to periodically forward the mail to aKorean temporary address, and an agreement from a management rental service to look after the property in Baltimore were all part of the many preparations. Sugar was given a required physical by the local veterinarian, certified in good health and shipped via US Air to my oldest daughter who was living in the basement apartment of our prior home in Maryland.
 
 

I had also arranged to go along with one of the local Korean ladies who was married and was on her way to visit relatives. We met at the Los Angeles Airport before flight time, and I was introduced to some of her relatives from the LA area. It was time to board the KAL (Korean Airlines) jet along with what looked liked a lot of other passengers, mostly of oriental descent. The flight took off on schedule and we were airborne in a matter of minutes. It was a non-stop flight and the next landing would be at Kimpo Airport in Seoul, Korea. While onboard we talked a bit of what to expect in Korea and how to arrange a meeting with my intendent's parents. Since I knew no Korean and my love no English, my traveling acquaintance volunteered to do the translating for us. The flight was otherwise very pleasant and the hostesses and crew were extremely courteous, although very busy with such a full load of passengers. It was a long flight and somewhere over the vast Pacific we had crossed the international dateline, so that eventually we were some sixteen hours ahead of where I had originally left. Still, there was a lot of time to catch up on naps and reading. The closer we got to our destination, the more apprehensive and excited I became. Would I recognize her from the photo? Would she be there at the airport to meet me? Was this really coming true, or was it a lark or hoax of some sort and no one would even know what I was talking about. These thoughts and many others went through my mind in rapid succession until suddenly someone ahead of us pointed down and we noted that we were flying over land as the normal sequence of cabin lights and pilot announcements came on to prepare for the landing. Some fifteen minutes later we taxied down the runway. It was late afternoon and before we cleared customs and immigration, it was dark outside.
 
 

The thoroughness and strict security at the airport plus the many guards and armed soldiers gave me an almost warlike impression compared to our airports back home; one must remember that there still is no peace treaty, even at this time, between the two Koreas. Finally, having cleared everything and gotten my passport stamped, I entered the main airport lobby with my acquaintance. We looked around for a bit and then my acquaintance pointed and said there she is. I looked and sure enough by that time we had had spotted each other. She also had a friend in tow, and we started to say hello, probably in as many as four languages all at once. After some fifteen minutes of small talk and utter amazement on my part I exchanged some dollars into Won, the local currency; at the time one Dollar was equal to seven hundred and fifty Won. We stepped out of the main terminal, signaled for a cab and proceeded on our way. I left with my love and her friend. My acquaintance was met and picked up by some of her family. We planned to meet the next day for lunch and bade each other goodnight.
 
 

We decided to stop at a Cafe, which I found to be a uniquely social Korean institution, for a snack and I presumed that she was also hungry from her long wait in the terminal. We slowly ate the food she ordered and luckily I was good at using chopsticks, which seemed to please her. The snack was good and we chatted in our mutual third language, German, while she would occasionally translate some words or comments to her friend. After about an hour of being together at the table, ogling and assessing each other while wondering what will come next, her friend excused herself to go home. We went to a more modest hotel where I had prearranged lodging from the States at a reasonable price. My intended came up to the room with me, and we did some more serious talking. It was getting late and she decided to stay. She wanted to get married and so did I. It seemed to all work out almost effortlessly and both of us were greatly relieved.
 
 

This STORY, dear reader, may have been of sufficient interest to have maintained your consciousness and prevented you from having fallen asleep, for which I apologize and only assure you that STORY TWO will not disappoint you. Thank you.