Memories of the Korean New Year

Hyojung Kim
10th Grade,
Maine East High School

Each Korean New Year, I would awaken early in the morning to the gentle rustling of Hanboks that my aunts and mom were preparing as their special holiday wardrobe. I adored the vibrant and beautiful hues as my elders adorned themselves in blue, white and red fabric. I looked forward to the day when I would join them, donning even more colorful costume. When that day finally arrived, I knew I needed to be a princess not just on the outside, but inside as well:I had to act like a lady.

In the kitchen, my mom, aunts, and grandmother were busy making food. They lovingly cooked dukgook and many more side dishes, as my uncles and dad performed the easier work of grinding garlic cloves and grilling fish. They spread bamboo mattress, set up tables upon which they placed food and candles. One year, I'll never forget, I accidentally ignited my hair by allowing it to dangle too close to one of those candles.

Because I was a girl, I was excluded from an important part of the celebration, while my brother was allowed. All my uncles and dad and grandfather went inside and bowed down at our ancestors. My brother bowed down too, and innocently took the cup of alcohol that my grandfather offered. Of course, he spewed out his first sip. I protested among the women, who were sitting on a couch in a living room, suggesting discrimination against girls was wrong. After the ritual, we ate.

Two or three tables were filled with new year food and everyone sat around the tables. Then everyone went inside the main room, and bowed down at our grandparents and parents. We would say “get a lot of blessings in the new year!” and they gave us money with a large dose of moral teaching.

Then my cousins and more uncles and aunts came. Kids would play together, and adults would talk together. Later into the night, adults went out to the living room where they played Go-Stop card games. In my bed, I could hear the loud laughter of the adults far into the night. Every year was the same routine, yet each time was unique and special.

The atmosphere of New Year's morning was equally memorable, if more serene: the fresh, cool air, bright rooms, seemingly more permeated than ever with sunshine, signaling the hopes and love we anticipated for the new year.

This scenery of my childhood still remains in my heart as a memory. I wish the Korean kids who were born in America could experience events like this. We have such a fun and rich culture, and yet most of the Koreans born here will never share the full, enveloping experience of Korean New Year.