Physically Dan and I looked nothing alike. I'm a short Caucasian. I like to think of myself, even with my Santa Claus bowl full of jelly as being somewhat built. I have dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. A long chiseled face, with a dominant chin. Dan was Korean. A round face, that split time between a gruff black beard and being cleanly shaven. He too was short, but still quite a bit taller than me.
Our friendship started as only as it could. He walked into my room one day and without even introducing himself said, "you're the kid that spends all his spare time working out right?" I replied that who ever said that could be talking about me as I went to the gym twice a day. He said, "Good, I'm going with you." And that was how it all started.
For the next two years Dan and I were the best of friends. I taught him everything I knew about pumping iron and he taught me what it means to truly not give a shit. I like to think of myself as independent. I like to think of myself as one who sticks to my convictions with bravery and sureness. I like to think I'm one who marches to the beat of my own drum without a care as to who likes it and who doesn't. To a degree I think I am, but even to this day I'm nothing compared to what Dan was then. A lot of people claim they don't care what other people think, but I've never met anyone who exemplified that statement more than he did.
He was the most fearless person I've ever known. He'd walk into a KKK meeting, look them all in the face and call them all a bunch of hillbilly racists. He had no problem with confrontation and he'd call anyone out for their bullshit.
He and I once rode with a group of individuals to Sioux Center to use the bowling alley at Dordt. Some of the people we traveled with for some reason or another didn't like me. Not sure what it was about me they didn't like, but they didn't like me. On the way back to Orange City, I sat in the front seat of the van, while they sat in the middle and Dan sat in the very back. I tried to talk to the group and join in on the conversation but they never responded to me. I figured it was because they couldn't hear me. When we got out of the van, Dan said loud and clear that he knew they could hear me because he could hear me. He looked them straight in the face, told them they were pompous and stuck up and he was sorry he associated with them because of the way they had treated me. I can't say had it been the other way around that I would have stuck up for him in the same way.
Another time Dan asked a girl out and she agreed to go on a date with him. When he showed up to take her to dinner, she stood him up. He tried to contact her to see what had happened and she ignored him. Later on that year, they took a speech class together. Dan gave a speech on dating etiquette. The do's and don'ts of dating. While he never said her name, it was clear to everyone in the classroom that when speaking of the don'ts, he was referring to her. Perhaps a bit petty in his vengeance, he was ruthless and relentless.
Dan was disappointed in the world. He saw people as fake, dishonest and disingenuous. He liked me because to him I was one of the few raw and real people he knew. He often told me that he thought most of the world operated on image and perception. That they weren't really themselves. What they actually thought and felt was suppressed do to societal expectation, wanting to fit in and be accepted. We didn't see who they really were, but who they thought they ought to be or who they thought others thought they ought to be. Life and the people in it depressed Dan and he spoke to me about this often.
A little Chinese restaurant became a second home to us as Dan hated the cafeteria food at Northwestern College. During that year, I think we tried everything on the menu. The owner became so fond of us that she offered both of us jobs. I felt I was too busy, but Dan took a position as a dishwasher. He lasted about a month. He was often late and sometimes wouldn't even show up. While she loved Dan's personality, he wasn't very ambitious. At least not when it came to showing up to do the dishes. Knowing Dan as well as I did, I wouldn't call him lazy. He wasn't lazy. You can't go to the gym with me, as obsessive as I am about lifting weights on a daily basis and call someone lazy. It was more a reflection of his depression.
He came home with me over Christmas break as he had nowhere else to go. His family was from Wilmington, Delaware and he couldn't afford to fly home. So he rode the six hours back to Sigourney with me. He got to spend the month of December seeing the little town and nearby Oskaloosa and Ottumwa that I grew up in. I often wonder what that was like for him. Such a different area than what he had grown up in.
I suppose all the stories I have of Dan are anecdotal. No real point. No conclusion. No closure. Simply a guy who misses a great friend of his, who he'd love to see again. The optimistic side of me thinks that maybe Dan went back to South Korea. He often talked of how his parents struggled to make it in the United States. How his father and mother were very poor and still felt discriminated against even after living here for twenty years. I wonder sometimes if they didn't all pack up and move back to South Korea. Maybe he doesn't have access to internet over there.
I also wonder sometimes if he decided to shut himself off from the rest of the world. He told me that he one day wanted to grow out his beard, grow his hair real long, wear it in a ponytail and spend the rest of his days traveling from town to town. Walk the entire country. I'd like to think maybe that's what he's doing. It angers me a bit that he'd shut me off, especially for this long but it beats the other thought I have of him.
I sometimes wonder if he might have committed suicide. Our last conversation as much as I try and block it, leads me to this possible conclusion. Dan said that he felt life was going to be a consistent struggle for him from now on. He saw little to no reward in his future. He never outright said that he thought of ending his life, but he made it clear that he wasn't looking forward to living it.
I can't tell you how many times I've tried looking him up on the internet. Found dozens of Dan Kims, Cheung Yeung Kims, and about everything else. His father's American name was Peter, his brother's Thomas and his sister's Sarah. They owned a small grocery store in Wilmington. Dan, last I talked to him had started a t-shirt business. Even with all of this information, I've never been able to find anything on him. I talk to others from NWC, and they're even more lost when it comes to Dan than I am. It's like he vanished into thin air.
At this point, I'm almost positive I'll never see Dan again. My friend Tony Hofteizer and I joke of how if either of us ever makes it rich, we're going to head out looking for him. I honestly think that's the first thing I'd do if I won the lottery or struck gold as a writer. I can see myself getting all things in order and then heading out to Wilmington and doing a little investigating. I'm scared of what I might find.
I'm close to 34 now. Someday I'll be 44. Then 54, then 64 and so on. I'll know then as I know now how hard it is to come across people in this life we call friends. How difficult it is to find people who have your back and stick up for you in times of need. One of my best friends Dennis Woods Doderer was six months shy of his 37th birthday the day I was born. That tells me all I need to know about the many things left to look forward to in this life. Yet even with all of the many changes and things I'll endure, I know I'll always look back on my friendship with Cheung Yeung "Dan" Kim as one of the best I ever had.
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| The only pictures I have of Dan and I. Taken by my Aunt Shirley on Christmas Eve of 2006. |
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