A lady was walking toward me as some 400 Korean War veterans and their families were enjoying a luncheon under the huge pavilion at Long Lake Regional Park in New Brighton. She asked me if I'd follow her to her table. I took it as an invitation to a photo session; I often get those. It was September 2014.
She introduced to me several people and I thanked them for coming. When she pointed to an elderly woman and said "she is my Mom," I heard: "I hated Korea and the Koreans."
My heart sank. She added, "My brother was killed in Korea," and I grasped for any words of comfort. Then she said: "At this picnic, I changed my mind, because some Koreans honor him."
Relieved, and feeling like I'd been riding an emotional roller coaster, I murmured: "I'm very sorry. I'm glad you came." I hurried back to the podium.
Soon I opened the program: "Korean War veterans and family members, my name is Byong Moon Kim. I am the host of the picnic. Since 2004, the Kim family has hosted an annual appreciation day picnic and program in honor of President Harry S. Truman and Korean War service members. We dedicate this year's event to the Korean War wounded and injured. We welcome you all."
I thought of the lady, fearing that my response was inadequate for her long-held bitterness. I hadn't asked her name, and, busy with the flow of the program, I could not get back to her table before they left. I lamented having missed a chance to relate to her with content and context of the Korean War.
Afterward, I asked many people if they knew of a lady who had lost her brother in Korea. Finally, in May of this year, a woman called me. Her father served in Korea; her son needed an application for the scholarship for the descendants of Korean War service members that my family established. She mentioned that she had asked me to meet her mother. Exciting news!
Deanna told me about her mom, Diane Quam. In October 1951, Diane's parents were informed of the death of their son, Army Corp. David H. Quam, C Company, 7th Regiment, 1st Cavalry Division. He was 19. Diane, 17, lost her brother, who had been very close to her.