Yung Park didn’t have a big extended family but the family they had in Chicago, was a tight-knit one, not like how families are now. This book is about an immigrant family maybe the last distinctly immigrant family in Chicago. Chicago, itself, was built by immigrants. There was the Italians, Jews and the Irish a century back. And nowadays, there’s are Hispanics and Koreans. Of course, America was started by immigrants, by English immigrants and by the European settlers who were unafraid to settle the West. What emerged was an European culture that also brought in African slaves, who are a substantial part of what makes America, America today. But when people say, we are a country of immigrants, are they not forgetting the native people.
Yung Park entered Central High with his big Korean head held high, and was late, which would set a bad precedent. Most people when they enter High School will be hyped, Yung, however, carried no such excitement. His father drove him to school and dropped him off. Slowly but surely, he went into school. Being late that first day, with all the commotion, went on unnoticed.
Yung knew me in junior high school, but I didn’t know him until the end of it. I guess I was sort of famous in junior high. I did a lot of sports back then, and every year, I would do all three sports and I would get the one award that would recognize the best athlete in the school.
Before we would all graduate from Junior High, Yung invited me to a Korean Church summer camp which I attended. When I saw Yung in the first few weeks of high school, I was excited and greeted him.
This book is about Yung alone, and here I step back into the background.