Issue 09: "My First, Real, Average American Friend" by Yearn Hong Choi
Immigrant Hustle: A Monthly Mini Memoir
This month’s IH Mini Memoir is a posthumous excerpt from a memoir written 14 years ago by my father-in-law, Yearn Hong Choi. Yearn’s story about becoming friends with Gary, who he met at a summer factory job as a graduate student in Bloomington, Indiana, is a riot to read. It’s a welcome invitation to see some of the fun that the 1960’s generation of Komerican immigrants had — maybe they weren’t always so studious, hard working or suffering! Happy reading.
My First, Real, Average American Friend: A Mini Memoir
By Yearn Hong Choi
Yearn Hong Choi was a professor, poet, environmental activist, nature lover, eldest brother, husband, father and grandfather. Learn more about Dr. Choi in his 2021 obituary in The Korea Times.
During the three-month long summer vacation, I got a full-time job at the General Electric plant outside Bloomington. I commuted from my rooming house to the plant by bicycle. It was quite a long distance by bike, but I enjoyed riding the 15-mile distance in the morning and in the evening. My cycling to the plant reminded me – a budding fan of American movies – of Breaking Away, starring Dennis Quaid. The movie was set in Bloomington and there was an annual bicycle race that raised money for working students. So beloved in Bloomington, the race was immortalized on screen in this movie and it came to mind often.
As a foreign student biking to work from town, I soon began to make news as the new, unusual laborer at the plant. One fellow during the break in the assembly line came to me and asked, “Hey, where do you live in town?” “Third Street,” I answered. He promised to give me a ride. It turned out that he lived just two blocks away. His name was Gary Capp. I will never forget his name – the first real, average American working guy I befriended in the United States.
Gary Capp was a kind neighbor to me. He was an ex-high school football player from Minnesota who loved playing the saxophone. One day he showed me an old newspaper scrap, which printed his touchdown story – the main glory of his previous life in his hometown. I did not know why or when he settled in Bloomington. It was somewhat mysterious to me that he was living in a college town.
Of course, he was extremely popular among the ladies. Even though he was only high-school educated, he dated a college student majoring in arts and a graduate student majoring in English literature at the same time. He had some kind of a magic touch with women! I did not know whether his saxophone, his good looks (he somewhat resembled Kevin Costner), or his strong built body attracted many women. He slept with them on different nights. I was pretty amazed to become a close friend of a real American playboy! He was nothing like any person I ever knew in Korea.
He did not understand my life of working so hard for an advanced degree. He told me, “Life is short. You cannot sacrifice your youthful days, since they’ll never come back.” I listened to him. He invited me to a party at his rental house. My summer as a worker turned out to be much more fun than I expected, in part because of my new friend. He was a free spirit. His lifestyle was totally different from mine and the students I met in the classrooms and library.
On hot and humid summer nights, Gary invited me to go swimming in the quarry just outside the town. Summer in Bloomington was terribly hot. I could not sleep well some nights because I did not have an air conditioner. I had one small fan at the window of my room. For that reason, I always appreciated the invitations to cool off.
From time to time, the plant asked me to work overtime. Whenever I was asked, I was happy, because my overtime wage was one-and-a-half times the usual, sometimes double. I could not refuse those offers! Gary didn’t want to work overtime, but he did it anyway for me. He wanted to give me a ride to the plant. I told him, “I can ride my bike!” But he picked me up in front of my house on overtime days on the way to the plant. I could not respond to him properly other than with tears in my eyes.
Our friendship lasted many years after I left Bloomington. One day, my letter to him was returned to me. He moved out of that house without posting his new address. I don’t know what happened to him. I shall never forget his saxophone and women.
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