Ordinary makes extraordinary20: When loneliness falls like a drizzle on my heart
In the middle of September, the sweltering heat hadn’t yet subsided in Yeoncheon. Sunburn was inevitable while working in the fields, no matter how much sunblock I applied. In a way, dark skin was a symbol of health, but it was also the price of hard labor. The village headman’s skin was just that kind of farmer’s skin. It was darker and duller than tanned, with deep wrinkles etched by the sun. However, the man of the same age walking beside him had strikingly fair skin, almost a stark contrast to the headman. Not only was his skin fair, but his hair was also graying with few black strands. He wore thick horn-rimmed glasses that didn’t quite suit his small eyes and chubby face. He reminded me of the glasses-wearing coach from the Japanese manga Slam Dunk. I wondered if he was also a participant in the one-month stay program like me. The village headman seemed to sense my curiosity and introduced us. The man, who appeared to be in his late 50s, had participated in the previous session of the program. And he enjoyed it so much that he decided to stay in Yeoncheon for a few more months and rent a studio to live. I wanted to ask him what he liked so much in the program, but it was difficult to pry as we had just met. He shared his story why he happened to come to Yeoncheon, and I found a few things in common between he and I. He had never farmed before and had spent his entire life working in a company, selling electronic components to overseas. He had worked as an expatriate in China for several years at his last career and had retired a few years ago. He said that he realized that he was not good at anything other than working in a company, so he applied for the farming experience with the intention of experiencing something different. While I was listening to his story, I suddenly reminded my own father, who had worked as a public servant for over 30 years, hadn’t thought about what to do after retirement. My dad, in his early 60s, was too healthy and energetic to be idle. He tried a few temporary office jobs to relieve his boredom, but they didn’t last long. He even applied for security guard positions at apartments, a typical job for older men, but he was repeatedly rejected. The reason was that even security job now required qualifications, and those who had worked quietly in offices weren’t preferred like my dad. Due to frequent complaints and abrasive people to deal with, those with experience in combat-related jobs like police or military were much more preferred. My dad, in comparison, was like a delicate plant raised in a greenhouse supplied water and nutrients automatically. Bring back to the story, the middle-aged man talked excitedly about his life as an expatriate in China was in a similar situation like my dad’s. His work achievements might be significant within the company but it became useless after retirement. He looked so unhealthy, as he had been friends with alcohol and cigarettes, the vices of office workers. He said he had tried farming a few times but complained of back pain and feeling like it wasn’t a good fit for him. So, he decided to stay in Yeoncheon for a while longer, seeking advice from the village headman about the one other than farming. Through this man, I could indirectly foresee my future. While he had more experience and qualifications than me, but we had lived very similar lives. As someone who had been sent overseas by his company, he must have been a good worker. That’s probably why he didn’t have time to think about life after retirement. So, whose responsibility was this current predicament, and how should it be dealt with? It seemed unfair to place the entire burden on the individual, as he had been dedicated to his life and work. Did he also have to prepare for retirement on top of everything else? Of course, with his long career, he would receive a national pension that would prevent him from starving. However, the need for money unexpectedly increases getting older, and the long period of jobless become daunting. Moreover, with advancements in technology, people live longer and healthier lives, even with illnesses. But in the end, most of us will succumb to cancer, a financially draining disease. It’s a pessimistic view, but I’m grateful for each day, knowing that this reality won’t spare me either. The more I talked to the man with horn-rimmed glasses, the more depressed I felt, so I made an excuse and left. Lying in the empty accommodation, I talked to my wife for a long time about this. The long drizzle fell like the monsoon season, even in late summer. Loneliness, unnoticed, sprinkled over my heart throughout the whole night.
