COMING TO AMERICA

      A journey halfway around the world led him to a new family and it changed his life forever.

      It was all my wife's doing. Jan came up with the whole idea, then made it happen. Now, it's clearer than ever that finding Hyunjin in South Korea and making that 8-year-old boy part of our family was great luck for us all.

      We met Hyunjin on a rainy Tuesday night in November, 1977 after he  finished his first airplane trip, a journey of some 30 hours from his home in Seoul to New York's JFK Airport. He's with about 25 other Korean children, some of them infants. All are to be adopted by Americans. 

      The scene at the airport is intense. Impatience is in the air. Like the other prospective parents, we have waited months for processing and official approval of paperwork.

      At this point, everyone is nervous and extremely eager to see the children. Adding to the drama, the big jet encounters stormy weather and lands two hours late.

     All of us hurry to an arrival gate, where we are told to board one-by-one and get the kids from their escorts. 

      Jan goes for us. After a few minutes, she walks off the plane holding hands with Hyunjin. Without thinking, I start to push and make my way through the crowd. -- to welcome him as fast and as much as possible. 

      But as I embrace him, I can see that he's scared and exhausted after the flight. He doesn't say a word, maybe because he knows only one or two in English. He's just looking at us, perhaps wondering what's next.

      Imagine what he might be thinking. Here he is in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers and woefully unprepared to start a new life.  

      He has so few personal belongings that they all fit into a tiny bag which he carries over a shoulder. Everything except a fuzzy brown panda bear, which he is clutching. It's almost half his size.

      We've been told almost nothing about his past that might help us to understand him now. The gist of a profile is that he was abandoned as a baby -- left in a basket outside a police station in Seoul -- and lived in that city with the same foster family until recently, when given up for an adoption. We have no way to know how much of that is correct.

      But it doesn't really matter to us in these initial moments, when his face is impassive and his eyes suggest an inner sadness at memories of what he left behind. What does matter is that there's something about this boy that gives us a confident feeling, a sense that he's going to make the best of whatever lies ahead. So, we must do our part.

      After getting a green card identifying Hyunjin as a "permanent alien," we head outside for our car and the drive home to Washington. He hasn't smiled yet. Not once. Giving him a “Snoopy” stuffed dog is not much help, though he cuddles up with it on the backseat with Jan. 

      As we pass through Manhattan, he stares in silence at the countless neon lights and skyscrapers. We stop in Greenwich Village to get him tasty pizza, but he's not too interested.  In a bid to talk, Jan tries a few Korean phrases she learned during two months of lessons, but no luck with that, either. 

      After about two hours of driving, we hear him sobbing softly in the darkness. We try to comfort him. Finally, he dozes off. 

      Even though we don't arrive at our townhouse until it's 4:30 a.m. on Wednesday, we decide to take the adoption agency's advice and give Hyunjin a bath. He's not enjoying it.

      The noise awakens Karin, our 5-year-old daughter, who staggers into the bathroom bleary-eyed to see her new brother for the first time and there he is in all his glory -- thoroughly embarrassed in the tub. 

      But hey, she doesn't care. She's simply glad to meet the newcomer -- and manages to win his first smile before both of them climb into bunk beds and fall asleep. It's a welcome chance for all of us to rest.

THURSDAY

      Fortunately, Jan and I have been allowed to take a week off at work as Hyunjin begins adjusting to life in America. And there is plenty to do.

      At the top of our list is shopping for clothes. The only ones he has are those which he wore on the plane trip from Korea. So, relying on hand gestures and a pocket dictionary, we're off to a mall. By the time we leave, the kid has new jeans, shoes, turtlenecks and other items, but only after he chose them. He's quite particular about styles and colors. 

      From there, Jan takes him to meet a young Korean woman who is willing to translate. That makes the boy happy.  At last, he can express himself, and it turns out he has a lot to say. For instance: : 

      * We are “treating him very well.”

      * Before leaving Seoul, he saw pictures of our family and home that we sent to the adoption agency.

      * He knew his life would be a lot different here, such as “having to take a shower every day."

      * His "grandparents" in Seoul sent him away because of "business losses" and to punish him for not being "a nice kid."

      * He still loves the Korean people who took care of him, including the "grandma" who gave him photos so that he "would not forget them" and instructions to let her know by mail that he arrived safely.

      * To stay in touch with some people in Seoul, he wrote their  addresses on scraps of paper, stuffed them in a pant cuff during the flight and now hides them under the mattress at our home. Why? "I was afraid you might take these away."

      As soon as he gets back to our house, Hyunjin writes a short, revealing letter in neat Korean characters:

      "Dear Grandma, how have you been? I am fine …  I met a Korean elder sister here and she treats me as a younger brother. I regret coming to the United States because I can't communicate and because thinking of you, I can't fall asleep. 

      "If I had been a good boy and didn't ask for money so often and if I had studied hard, I wouldn't have this trouble here …. Take care of yourself because if you die, I will not be able to meet you when I go back home. I wanted to send you spareribs, since you like that so much, but I was told it would probably be rotten in the airplane. 

      "Grandma, be healthy and eat a lot and live long. When I grow up, I will go back as soon as possible. Then, goodbye, Hyunjin."

FRIDAY

      We were advised to give Hyunjin a few weeks to get used to being in the country before going to school. But he wants to enroll and thinks we're preventing it, so we take him to visit one in our neighborhood. While there, we're told he can start any day and will be placed in third grade. 

      That night, we hit a rough patch. Hyunjin is putting a hand on one ear and grimacing in pain. Our family physician agrees to see him right away at the office. He finds evidence of an infection, and prescribes penicillin. Before we leave, the doctor also voices mild concern about Hyunjin's low weight -- a mere 52 pounds -- and says he's "a tough little boy" to bear up so well when sick. 

      Within hours, Hyunjin rebounds -- working on paper cutouts, singing happily out loud and drawing Karin into the project when she gets home from school. It's our first view of a bubbly side of his personality.

      But by bedtime, his face is long and his eyes glazed. Tears are rolling down his cheeks. We try to console him with hugs and gentle words. He's clearly homesick. It's hard to see him cry and hold his panda bear for security. But what else can be done?

      Leave it to little Karin. Leaning over the edge of his bunk bed, she somehow cheers him up. He regains composure and signals that he's okay. On our way out of the bedroom, he whispers a "good night" in English for the first time. It's a good omen. 

SATURDAY

      Hyunjin and Karin start playing in the house like old pals. They "talk" to each other in English and Korean as if there are no language barriers. It's quite a sight. She pulls out toy after toy and he's delighted, building with wooden logs, laying out plastic railroad tracks, drawing pictures on an easel.

      And when our Korean-speaking friend shows up as a surprise guest for dinner, Hyunjin talks endlessly to her -- barely pausing to eat. It's all we can do to get him off to bed.

SUNDAY

      It's unseasonably warm and we all go to a nearby park. Karin takes us on a tour of the swings, a slide, monkey bars and other attractions. Then at her request, it's "hide and seek." They run off hand-in-hand, crouch behind bushes or trees, cautiously peer out like spies, then race to freedom with shouts of victory.

      Before calling it quits, a bit of baseball. Hyunjin has told us he's good at that. I doubt it -- until he takes a bat so big that he can hardly swing and hits the first pitch over my head. As I run after the ball, he sprints around the bases (Karin’s sandbox pails) and crosses home plate with a grin, yelling “home run.”

      It's dusk as we drag ourselves home. I make dinner early to let Hyunjin watch a Walt Disney show on TV -- foolishly assuming he's never seen one. Wrong! As soon as it starts, he says "han guk" – meaning that Disney programs are available in Korea and he's seen them there. Before the night ends, they watch an episode of "$6 Million Man," another one of his favorites.

MONDAY

      We're all up extra early on this first day of school for Hyunjin. He's excited. So is Karin, who wants to show off "my brother." 

      After walking both kids to school, we lead Hyunjin to the third-grade classroom. The teacher introduces him and explains that he can't speak English. Some children openly wonder how to talk to him. One suggests using gestures, and another notes in all seriousness that they can "read his lips." 

      We stick around to watch. The teacher takes Hyunjin to join a small group of kids at a worktable and they start on arithmetic. 

      After scribbling a few problems on the blackboard., the teacher asks the students to come up and write answers. Meanwhile, Hyunjin is solving them on paper with amazing speed. Jan notices that and signals "call on him" to the teacher, who does.

      In a flash, Hyunjin scrawls the answers on the board. Seeing that, one kid exclaims "wow" and asks others, "Do you think he's smarter than we are?"

      To close out the day, I take Hyunjin to look around the U.S. Capitol, just a few blocks from our house. He's unable to understand what I tell him about that great white building, but two Korean journalists stop to give him a briefing at my request. 

      At home, Hyunjin finds a letter from the oldest boy on the plane from Seoul. It says he was "afraid of you forgetting Korean. People say that kids usually forget Korean in two months, so keep this in your mind so that you can go back to Korea." 

      Then, these words: "The more frequently we write to each other, the better it is so we can know how each other is doing."

      Hyunjin is thrilled, gets a pen and begins his reply by asking "is there anything troublesome" and writing that he's now going to school with "my sister, who has a pretty face but is sometimes mischievous." 

TUESDAY

      Day 2 at school goes well. Hyunjin greets classmates as if they're old friends. During the arithmetic class, he raises his hand like other kids to give the answer instead of holding back. That afternoon, he and two Pakistani boys have a class with a bilingual specialist to help them learn English.

      After school, another new experience for Hyunjin. He and Karin are invited to a small birthday party in our neighborhood. The other kids there treat Hyunjin as if he's a regular in the gang. Even better, they're very impressed when they see him kicking a soccer ball around at high-speed. That prompts a request: "Will you play on our team?"

      What a great way to close out Hyunjin's first week here. From that moment on, we know that our new son is on his way.

Richard Lerner was a reporter, writer and editor for news organizations in Washington, DC and California.