Our uncle Ralph Ahn was a chronicler of the lives of second-generation Korean Americans in the Los Angeles area. They, in turn, were mostly the children of the first generation that arrived in 1903 to 1905. More than that, Ralph was such a good friend to our mom.
I cannot actually think of anything "extraordinary" that our second, third, fourth or fifth generations actually "achieved," save to give their children a better life. They will go unnamed, as most Americans will also do.
What stands out, however, is the extraordinary fortitude it took our grandfathers to leave everything they had known to risk life a hemisphere away. My grandfathers--and those of others in the early community--arrived to work on pineapple and sugar cane plantations in Hawaii or Mexico.
Grandpa Chung was 15, traveling with his younger brother and no parents. I do not recall that he ever saw his parents again. I don't recall that he worried about his "identity." He had much bigger problems to deal with.
This is his arrival document.
His story is the story of so many other immigrants to the United States. Their stories--some more similar, some less so--help me think of us as "one." E pluribus unum: out of many, one.
And that, perhaps, is the story.
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