CHAPTER 3 LITERATURE
He ( my father ) gives me a hug . “ I am ashamed to look in your eyes ,” he says – another one of those mysterious things he likes to say . “ Someday , your generation will have to forgive us .” I don ’ t know what he is talking about , but the scene and the atmosphere of the moment , in the roaring wind and with the snow gone berserk , make me feel dramatic . “ We will forgive you , Father ,” say I , magnanimously .
About four miles out of town , between our house and the orchard , the cemetery lies at the foot of a hill that gradually rises up to become a craggy , rock-strewn , barren mountain …. Twenty or thirty people are moving about the burying ground …. All are shrouded with white snow ; now , some are kneeling before graves ; some , brushing the snow of gravestones ; some , wandering about like lost souls …. When we are in front of the graves of our ancestors , my father wipes the snow off the gravestone …. The three of us are on our knees , and , after a long moment of silence , my grandfather , his voice weak and choking with a sob , says , “ We are a disgrace to our family . We bring disgrace and humiliation to your name . How can you forgive us ?” He and my father bow , lowering their faces , their tears flowing now unchecked , their foreheads and snow-covered hair touching the snow , and I shiver for a moment with the needling iciness of the snow on my forehead . And I , too , am weeping ….”
How long – for how many generations – are you going to say to each other , “ I am ashamed to look in your eyes ”? Is that going to be the only legacy we can hand down to the next generation and the next and the next ?
It is dark … the snow is falling straight and calmly . The blurry figures of the people move about the burying ground like ghosts haunting the graves in the snow . At the bottom of the hill , my father asks , “ Would you like me to carry you on my back ?” I nod unabashedly and climb onto his back , nuzzling my frozen face against him , clinging to his broad shoulders . And so , in such a way then , the three of us , the three generations of my family , bid farewell to our ancestors in their graves , which we can no longer see in the heavy snow , and join the others from the town to find our way back to our home . Today , I lost my name . Today , we all lost our names . February 11 , 1940 .
For an interview of Richard Kim and essays on how to teach Lost Names in middle schools and high schools , you may access the archives in Education About Asia , the leading journal for educators who teach about Asia . Google : Education About Asia , click on Archives , enter “ History as Literature , Literature as History , Kathleen Woods Masalski , Fall 1999 for the interview . For how to teach the book , Google : Education About Asia , click on Archives , enter “ Essays on Classroom Use of Lost Names , Fall 1999 . If there is difficulty accessing this information , see instructions on the first page of the website information in this book .
Lost Names ames mes
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