People I Love, Number 18 SOON JA

People I Love : Number 18                      SOON JA                   ( Incident of 1983)   A very demure, very properly dressed matronly woman rose to her feet as I entered the Kyei San Dong Parish office. She smiled quizzically. “Don’t you remember me?” she asked. “My name is Soon Ja. When you were in Bu Pyeong Parish you prepared the papers for me to marry an American soldier named Mitchell. This is our daughter,” she pointed with pride to the girl standing beside her. “She graduates from college next year.”   I looked at them in such astonishment that she clapped her hands in glee. My memory went back many years. Chaplains at the U. S. Ascom Area Command had sent me Korean girls who planned to marry Catholic G. I.’s. A Sergeant called Mitchell had brought Soon Ja, explaining that he’d picked her out from among the many prostitutes working the bars along “Front Street.” He’d paid the Madame of the “house” $150 U.S. for Soon Ja and intended to marry her. “But I’m a good Catholic, Gather, and I want you to baptize her first.”    He saw me glance at tell tale marks where sergeant’s stripes had been removed from his uniform. “I’m a supply sergeant,” he explained, “but I got into trouble and was busted.” Soon Ja spoke up in Korean, “He’s a good man,” she told me. “But he likes the whiskey too much.” I’d heard of Soon Ja from the Military Police who occasionally dropped by to see me. She sometimes sneaked past the gate at the Army camp and led the M.P.’s a wild chase until they tackled her and escorted her out/ She dyed her hair a different color every month or two thinking she could disguise herself.   Soon Ja began instructions for baptism and entered the special class for girls entering “international marriage.” Then late one Saturday night there was a commotion at standing in the glare of lights from the taxi which had brought her. Her hair was dyed a fluorescent green, her “hostess gown” was decolletage down to her navel, and she was crying broken heartedly. “O Daddy. Daddy,” she wailed, throwing her arms around me. (She used the Korean word for real father, not the Sin Bu which means “Spiritual Father.”) “Mitchell has left me and moved down the hail to another girl’s room. What am I to do?” It was evident she had been drinking something other than the $20 cups of tea the G. I.’s bought for the bar girls.   With a crowd gathering, and the curfew hour drawing close, I caught the taxi driver before he drove off, claimed Soon Ja down, and told her to come back in the morning when she felt better. She put her arms around me, gave me a slobbery kiss, and got back into the taxi.   She returned two days later to tell me she and Mitchell had made up, and were still planning to marry. She finished the course of instrument for baptism and marriage. But I was so doubtful that this marriage would last I told them, “Your papers are all in order. But I’m not going to marry you. I want you to get a civil marriage at the U. S. Embassy so marry you. I want you to get a civil marriage at the U. S. Embassy so Soon Ja can go to the States. I want Soon Ja to meet her new in-laws, and then if, after a couple months, you both feel she’s adjusting to the American style of living, let me know. I’ll send your papers to the priest there and Soon Ja can be baptized and you can get married in the Church.   About a year later a Franciscan priest in the U. S. wrote to tell me the couple was doing well. Except that Mitchell had lost his sergeant’s stripes again because of drink. I sent him their papers and they were married. From this time on Soon Ja took charge of her husband, following him as he was assigned to Okinawa, Germany, Turkey,… One Christmas she sent me a card telling how she’s persuaded Mitchell to join the Alcoholics Anonymous, and helped him get his sergeant’s stripes back. The last card from her told of Mitchell’s retiring after 20nyears of Army service. They moved near to an Army base in Florida where Mitchell got a job as merchandise manager for a chain of grocery stores, the same type of work he did as supply sergeant in the Army. “My Father’s also head of Cursillo in our Parish.” Their daughter told me proudly.   Soon Ja explained she had lost my address but located me again by phoning Maryknoll in New York. Now she and her daughter were in Korea searching for her younger sister. They’d been separated when the sister was adopted away from the orphanage which was raising them, while Soon Ja was left behind. Soon Ja proudly related how she’d helped Mitchell overcome his alcoholism, of his success in his new employment, of their daughter’s high grade in college. As they left she put her arms around me and gave me a kiss. I recalled the last time she had done so, on that Saturday night years before, as the fluorescent green haired prostitute from Front Street. I loved her then. I loved her now and, please god, Soon Ja will put her arms around me and give a hug when we meet in Heaven…