Chang: 2024

“a hero is a man who stands up manfully against his father and in the end victoriously overcomes him” — Sigmund Freud

I remember watching a boy on the subway, his father had bought him a gift and he surprised him with it. This kid was opening it, and you can really feel the excitement from him. The father was just so happy, just watching his son, opening this gift. The pure joy that radiated from him.

It reminded me of moments me and my father shared. Our many trips to Toys ‘r Us. He would buy us video games like the Sega Game Gear. I really enjoyed playing with that Sega.

And in that moment, I thought to myself, maybe that’s how my father felt, as he took us to Toys R Us. The joy that he had, just being able to give something to your child, and watching that child, be so happy even if it's only for a couple of minutes. All that you have to give, all the energy is in that little gift but the response is perfect and you just want to bottle up this moment because you know that many years from now, these moments will be so precious, hard to come by, and rare.

Our fathers reflect what we could become, and often what we strive to be. They are also reminders of mistakes that are best to get away from. Fathers were once boys, who transformed into adults, who went on to have kids of their own. My father had to drop out of middle school to take care of his brother and sisters. He chased my mother around on his motorcycle and eventually had me and my brother.

He came over to the United States with 100 dollars in his pockets. He used to run an arcade back in Korea. He was fascinated by how the kids in the neighborhood were drawn to pong, reverse-engineered an existing machine, and made reproductions.

He soon launched his amusement game company with imported game boards from South Korea and called himself “Video Game Man.”

I think that coming to the United States, he dreamed of a version of America that only immigrants could see. He enjoyed the scale and the abundance of everything. He forced his way into a society that was reluctant to accept him and for the most part, his ignorance kept him safe.

He would drive us around on his motorcycle and take us to the theaters. He would give us quarters to spend at arcades, asking us to test out new games for him. We would go to video game conventions and car shows and he would record our trips to Niagara Falls on his camcorder.

He never asked much of me except obedience. There were cultural differences so he never played basketball with us, or took us camping but that never bothered me. At the same time, he never asked me to become a lawyer or a doctor like most Asian parents.

As my brother and I hit our teenage years, he drifted away from family life. He was around less, he was gambling a lot, and spent much of his time away from home. A lot of our vacations were spent at the casinos. He threw his money at baccarat and slot machines and supplemented his gambling with a terrible golf game. He bred dogs part-time but most of them were born sick and many were buried in our back yard.

I don’t have memories of my father doing housework. It felt like he stopped being a father when I was 14 and started thinking of me as an employee. As with most children, we have a long list of complaints we want to file with our fathers, but I’ll spare you the boredom.

As home video games became more advanced, the kids became less interested in going to arcades and spending quarters playing games they could play for free at home. Not knowing how to pick up on this trend, he kept hedging his money on foolish optimism and eventually went bankrupt.

On the last day of summer, before going to college, my dad went to the casino, hoping to make my tuition. He came back empty-handed. My dad told me to pack up my things anyway and get ready, saying he would come up with the tuition somehow.

Within the span of a couple of years, we would lose our house on Cernan Lane. My parents would go through a short separation and trust in my father’s judgment would fall apart. No matter his flaws, I always had a deep-rooted respect for my father. Eventually, that respect would turn into contempt.

Soon after I graduated, my parents planned their third act. Ah’s Garage Sale. A 3000 square feet Midas repair shop converted into a used everything store. They sold TVs, mattresses, old furniture, motorcycles, computers, whatever you needed, it was there.

They ran this business for nearly 20 years. He developed the business on brutal ignorance and funded it with sweat. He lacked any business comprehension but he always found ways to make money. My parents fought often, over things like customer discounts and inventory, but much like starting the business together, they retired together.

I’ve always kept a healthy distance from him, intentionally yet there was always a part of me that wanted to know him more. I hope to say I have this thorough knowledge of the man who raised me or can chronicle his life story properly. I admired this man tremendously as a youth and hated him into my adulthood. I tried my hardest to be a different version of my father. A better husband, a more involved parent.

But in the end, “I am my father and he is me, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”