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| Cover of Hong Hae-ri's "Chi-Mae-Haeng," or "Road to Plum Flowers" |
Hong Hae-ri dedicated his book of 150 poems to his beloved wife,
who has lost her memory and thinking abilities to dementia, in particular
Alzheimer's disease, but it also touches many people who have a family member
affected by the condition. Millions of people around the world are suffering
from this serious illness. one in three senior men and woman will be affected by
this illness; it's no surprise that most in this age group are afraid of this
disease.
Hong has published several poetry books, and his latest, "Chi-Mae-Haeng," or "Road to Plum Flowers," has thrust him back under the spotlight. Plum flowers are famous for blooming in the winter; Korean poets often use the plum tree and flowers to create an image of purity and cleanliness in their poems. In some countries, both the plum tree and cherry tree bloom in early spring, but in Korea, the former blooms ahead of the former. The plum tree's blooming season in the country's southern provinces may be somewhat different from that in the northern provinces.
For the title of his poetry book, Hong adopted the Korean word for dementia, "chimae," then he converted the word into Chinese letters, "chimaehaeng." The poet might have used the plum flower to symbolize himself as he awaits his wife's recovery. In his short introduction in the book, he said he is hoping to find a new miracle medicine that can cure his wife and all other people living with dementia. In it, he also made it clear that he did not write the sophisticated book of poetry about his wife's disease to gain literary fame; he simply wanted to describe his wife's strange behavior before and after she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and share basic information about the disease with other people. Needless to say, he must feel some frustration in taking care of his wife. But the best description of the disease may lead to the best analysis of the disease.
Road to Plum Flowers is more than a simple description of an innocent, child-like woman who has lost her memory and thinking abilities. All poems are, of course, the poet's creative work. Hong regretted that he had not taken care of his wife, a hardworking school teacher and a housewife, during his adult days. He also regretted that he did not express his love to his wife. After she fell ill with the dreadful disease, he regretted that he was not a good spouse at all. He took her for granted. Most older Korean men do not often show affection to their wives after their honeymoon period, and I may well be one of them. If there's anything I've learned from this poetry book, it's that I should love my wife and children more for the rest of my life. This lesson applies to all men.
The mother of three children remembered her daughter, particularly from the family picture, and she felt guilty about not providing the best care for her daughter. Of course, this is the poet's interpretation. She did not want to go to the daytime care facility for people with Alzheimer's disease, but he nevertheless brought her there and picked her up in the evening, so that he has his own time to manage his own life. Every day, when he dressed up, she would ask where he was going. His observations of his wife's language and behavior were rather keen, even scientific.
Communication is a key element of living. I had a similar experience with my mother, who lost her ability to speak during her long battle with Parkinson's disease. The medicine she took also deteriorated her thinking, and later, communication abilities. When we were living in an apartment at Oksoo-dong in Seoul, she asked me to go home. I responded, "This is our home," and asked her which home she meant. She could have meant our house in the country, that in Kahoe-dong house, our apartment at Sangge-dong or any of our previous residences. But she did not reply. She remained silent after I asked. After she was hospitalized, I visited her bed two or three times a week. She just stared me. When my daughter visited her before her death, she just stared at my daughter and did not speak a word. The tearful moments lasted very long.
I can't imagine Hong's painful daily life with his ill wife, who has become innocent, like a child, at their home in Seoul. Communication is a part of everyday life, so when one's spouse loses that the ability to communicate, the home falls in despair. Fortunately, Hong's poems give him, as well as all others who are in a similar situation, comfort.
He is younger than I am. But he is also a senior citizen, and I am sympathetic to his situation and hope to cheer him up with this review.
At the end of his poetry book, I found a couple of poems that comforted me. I present my translation of the poems here.
Hong has published several poetry books, and his latest, "Chi-Mae-Haeng," or "Road to Plum Flowers," has thrust him back under the spotlight. Plum flowers are famous for blooming in the winter; Korean poets often use the plum tree and flowers to create an image of purity and cleanliness in their poems. In some countries, both the plum tree and cherry tree bloom in early spring, but in Korea, the former blooms ahead of the former. The plum tree's blooming season in the country's southern provinces may be somewhat different from that in the northern provinces.
For the title of his poetry book, Hong adopted the Korean word for dementia, "chimae," then he converted the word into Chinese letters, "chimaehaeng." The poet might have used the plum flower to symbolize himself as he awaits his wife's recovery. In his short introduction in the book, he said he is hoping to find a new miracle medicine that can cure his wife and all other people living with dementia. In it, he also made it clear that he did not write the sophisticated book of poetry about his wife's disease to gain literary fame; he simply wanted to describe his wife's strange behavior before and after she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and share basic information about the disease with other people. Needless to say, he must feel some frustration in taking care of his wife. But the best description of the disease may lead to the best analysis of the disease.
Road to Plum Flowers is more than a simple description of an innocent, child-like woman who has lost her memory and thinking abilities. All poems are, of course, the poet's creative work. Hong regretted that he had not taken care of his wife, a hardworking school teacher and a housewife, during his adult days. He also regretted that he did not express his love to his wife. After she fell ill with the dreadful disease, he regretted that he was not a good spouse at all. He took her for granted. Most older Korean men do not often show affection to their wives after their honeymoon period, and I may well be one of them. If there's anything I've learned from this poetry book, it's that I should love my wife and children more for the rest of my life. This lesson applies to all men.
The mother of three children remembered her daughter, particularly from the family picture, and she felt guilty about not providing the best care for her daughter. Of course, this is the poet's interpretation. She did not want to go to the daytime care facility for people with Alzheimer's disease, but he nevertheless brought her there and picked her up in the evening, so that he has his own time to manage his own life. Every day, when he dressed up, she would ask where he was going. His observations of his wife's language and behavior were rather keen, even scientific.
Communication is a key element of living. I had a similar experience with my mother, who lost her ability to speak during her long battle with Parkinson's disease. The medicine she took also deteriorated her thinking, and later, communication abilities. When we were living in an apartment at Oksoo-dong in Seoul, she asked me to go home. I responded, "This is our home," and asked her which home she meant. She could have meant our house in the country, that in Kahoe-dong house, our apartment at Sangge-dong or any of our previous residences. But she did not reply. She remained silent after I asked. After she was hospitalized, I visited her bed two or three times a week. She just stared me. When my daughter visited her before her death, she just stared at my daughter and did not speak a word. The tearful moments lasted very long.
I can't imagine Hong's painful daily life with his ill wife, who has become innocent, like a child, at their home in Seoul. Communication is a part of everyday life, so when one's spouse loses that the ability to communicate, the home falls in despair. Fortunately, Hong's poems give him, as well as all others who are in a similar situation, comfort.
He is younger than I am. But he is also a senior citizen, and I am sympathetic to his situation and hope to cheer him up with this review.
At the end of his poetry book, I found a couple of poems that comforted me. I present my translation of the poems here.
" Sunset"
The bird,
flying into the solitude of the wrinkled twilight.
The bird flying alone,
sound of flapping its tired wings
garurung, garung
garung, garurung
the bird flying without sense of direction,
absentmindedly.
"Last Night of January in Lunar Calendar"
I lie on my back,
then turn to right,
and then to left.
I lie on my stomach,
uneasy turn one side to another,
long long night,
insomnia,
the last night of January in lunar calendar.
My eyebrows turn to white and gray.
* Dr. Choi is a poet and writer based in Washington D.C.