Next part of my fathers up bringing...Racism and Coast Guard Ahoy!

I left off in my last post, about how my South Korean grandmother was a prostitute, and she basically kidnapped him because she regretted giving him up for adoption...... Okay well lets jump to the part of the story where my Dad is in the states now.

This is my Dads adoption photo that was in his file. You can understand how bad that my  Grandmother Vennette wanted to give him a better life.

Okay back on point here..... My Grandparent's lived in Montevideo, MN. That's where my father spent his first years in the states. Now he only knew one word of English, which was sandwichy. The GI's would give the orphans sandwiches to help them out. In an effort to make things easier on him, my grandparents helped a worker who worked on his case immigrate to the states. June would help with the language barrier and helping him transition to life in America. She became apart of our family in an essential big way. I always thought she was actually my aunt when I was little. Later as I became older and found out dad was adopted, it was explained that she was Dads nurse when he first came to America. I wish she still was in contact with us, I know Dad really loved her. Her impact in his life was almost like a second mother when I really think about it. 

Montevideo was a really nice town from all the stories I heard. My Aunt always told me that me that everyone was very accepting, and friendly never making any racist comments or hateful remarks. Eventually though Grandpa moved the family to Scottsdale, Arizona. Now for those of you who aren't aware, Arizona was one of the states who operated an Interment camp for the Japanese during the war, To say that there was hate towards any one who looked Asian was an understatement. One of the stories I've heard was terrible. Pretty much Dad was playing outside, and a couple neighborhood kids were bullying him. They stuffed him in a trashcan closed the lid on him, banged it up a bit, and rolled it down a hill all while Dad was inside of it. He came home all beat up looking and crying. Grandpa got one look at him and was pissed. Now most of my memories of my Grandpa Diff were him always smiling or laughing. He was a pretty happy guy. He tracked down where the kids lived and told their father that if it ever happened again, he'd be seeing him again with a shot gun.  

Grandma Vennette was the sweetest most loving woman ever to Dad. Taught him how to cook, and be a gentleman. Essentially she tried to make his childhood the best she could, and never let him feel unloved. Now alot of people would think that may be how you spoil a child. Grandpa was an Army Vet from WWII, where he was stationed in Africa fixing Tanks and what not. My father Mark was taught from both sides with discipline and affection. He played Football in high school at Marcos de Niza in Tempe, AZ and at Coronado in Scottsdale, AZ. Eventually Dad moved out of home early when he was 17, and he supported himself all while graduating from high school.

Dad joined the Coast Guard and went through his training down in the south. I believe that he was stationed down in Georgia. After learning everything he needed to know about working on boats and aircraft carriers, he was sent back home to Arizona and stationed at Lake Pleasant. Arizona has no beaches, so Dad was placed at one of the lakes.  Told me that he learned a lot while in service there.  I don't know too much about my fathers time with the Coast Guard, I only knew it was for a short time as he had been honorably discharged from service. Pretty much after his discharge from service he got a job in construction, and met my mother again shortly after. Why do I say after? Well my parents went to high school together at Marcos de Niza in Tempe, AZ. They didn't run in the same circle of friends. My father was a sports guys, and my mother was too but more involved with the artsy people. They graduated from school in 1976, so the Bohemians of art was still very abundant.

Dad had a sister, my Aunt Gail, who was much older than him. Moved out when he was still fairly young from what I was told. Met my Uncle Dan and shortly married later to him. I don't talk to them very much any more due to what happened after my father passed away. I feel they made some bad choices that affected my brother and I. My Aunt and Uncle are two very religious people. I don't mean in the sense that they go every Sunday. No they are the type of people who will push their religion on you. For those of you who know me personally, you know by no means am I that religious at all. I believe there is some high purpose out there, we just don't understand it fully quite yet. Their big push of religion has always kind of bothered me. I mean I grew up Lutheran Christian church, and it wasn't some big massive church either. I liked the church I grew up in. It was a small neighborhood church where my pastor was a really great guy. He made church fun for me, I won't deny being a 6 year old I fell asleep a lot during his talks. Pastor Zibodi though would get up and play his guitar and really get the congregation going. He didn't make any hateful speeches of how we were going to hell, or if we spoke to a gay person we were doomed. He taught the side of religion that embraced loved, forgiveness, acts of kindness, philanthropy, and good will towards others. Until I find a church like that again, I have said good bye to religion in general. 

Okay back to explaining my Aunt and Uncle. They made a commit about gay people that really made me realize they weren't who I thought they were. I mean they barely were in our lives growing up. They never came to visit us, it was always us who went to them. They were able to afford to travel, Dad was a divorced father raising us on a single income with no child support. Alright end of rant, you get my point I kind of was jealous of their wealth growing up. I mean I was always wearing second hand clothing, or clothes that didn't really fit my age. I was that awkward kid who looked weird or in a sense I was Ron Weasely with all his hand me downs.   I got way off topic there.....

Well by the way my father was raised, it was from a strict but loving family. He was taught good values and such. He endured a lot and learned  many things early in life. My grandmother passed away from Cancer when he was 14, and it effected him in a big way. Grandma was a big influence in his life. He became a better man and parent from the challenges he endured. 

Typical First Post: The Back Story

Well here we go. My name is Carrie, I grew up in Tempe and Mesa, Arizona. Why two different towns you ask? The thing is, in some prefect world, most families are this little prefect family and everyone loves each other. Mine isn't one of those so called families. Mine was riddled with drama and tears. To look back on all of it, I'm surprised I never became an alcoholic from it or some kind of addict. I'll admit I probably have some issues to a small degree when people start to talk about how perfect their families were growing up. Then they ask about mine. Alright I feel like I need to add an edit here.( This is by no means me insulting my family. My Grandparents are amazing, they have done every thing to support me, same for my Aunt and Uncle on my mothers side. There's not to say I haven't had my own issues. My Mother and I didn't have the best relationship growing up. Deep in my heart I have always been a Daddy's little girl).  Don't forget on and off again high blood pressure, although a bit of that of due to my profession as of late and being a parent of twin toddlers. "NO DON'T PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE TOLIET!" My personal favorite so far has been,"Franklin! Don't touch the dog poo!!" Ahh parenting twins that's been a very interesting journey so far, but I'll get into that later in the story.

My family has always been the odd one. My parents were both raised differently, especially when you look at them side by side. Dad was adopted from Seoul, South Korea post Korean War. When you look at all the statistics of orphans from that time, many were bore from prostitutes or mothers who's G.I "Husband" abandoned them to go back to the states. I'll never know if my dad was born from two Korean parents, or my grandfather was some G.I looking to get a quickie. My biological grandmother though was a prostitute. How do I know this for a fact you ask? I'll tell you how I know. We have to fast track for this a bit, and then I'll go back to explaining. When my grandparents were there to pick up my father in Korea, he was kidnapped. Well technically I shouldn't say kidnapped. My bio grandmother took him back, regretting her choice. When they found Dad as a wee little 2-3 year old, he was playing in the dirt outside where they found grandma "working." With the assistance of the interpreter, bio grandma explained she really cared for Dad, and regretted giving him up. She only gave Dad up because she wasn't able to financially care for him any more. Bio grandma was pregnant, and I had an aunt who was older than Dad who she took care of. Her thought was Dad had a chance of better life being adopted. After meeting with Grandma and Grandpa Diff, she felt at ease letting them take him. My Aunt later told me that Grandma cried so much, because they were afraid to let him go. Fearful that if they did, he'd end up in slave labor or worse death. I was told that grandma chose Dad because of his picture. She said he look so sad and unwanted, that she wanted to give him a better life never to feel unloved again.

I'm going to stop there for now folks. Thanks for reading my first little part in a long story of my life. You are all going to be my sounding board as I write this and proof it as a book I plan to publish eventually.