It’s likely that many readers of graceandjason.com may wonder about the “Camp,” which has a dedicated link in the site navigation above. “Camp” is Sae Jong Camp, which I first attended in 1978 when I was 8 years old. Since then, I enjoyed many years as a camper, then as a staff member, and most recently I served as the camp’s director and primary administrator for 10 years. In all, I have participated in 24 of SJC’s 30 years, if you include my extended visit last week.

Along the way, I started a new camp specifically for adopted Koreans after being inspired by working with and for adoptees at a wonderful camp in Minnesota during and after college. Last year, after 10 years, that camp finally ran its course. Though I think it could have continued and thrived on its own for many years to come, the economics of running two camps, one specifically for adoptees, and another for second and now third-generation Korean-American children, made it impossible to continue each separately.

Because so much of camp is about tradition and lifelong bonds, it is bittersweet to accept that what I started is over. I always knew, and in a way hoped, that the market or need for such a camp would dissipate. The rate of adoption from Korea has slowed, and is nowhere near the rate of the 1980’s.

Through my experiences, I’ve learned from my campers, their families, and my adopted staff, that the tremendous joys and benefits of adoption for all parties also come with a profound sense of loss – loss of a child for the birth parents – and so much more for the children. This loss is exemplified most by the mostly universal, often existential questions our campers have pondered throughout their lives, like:

• Why did my birth mother give me up?
• What has become of my birth parents?
• Who am I?

Though many of our campers have their “files,” which sometimes answers these questions, they are rarely enough to tell the whole store or even the correct one. I’m compelled to recount one person’s incredible story, as he shared it with me last week. I’ve known Chaz for many years, as both he and his older sister grew up going to SJC. The last time I saw him, he was still a camper, so I was pleased to see him back at camp as a first-year staff member.

This past summer, Chaz and his family went on their first trip to Korea with a group that has hosted many of our campers and staff in the past. A couple of weeks before they left, Chaz received word from his case worker that his family had been found and their circumstances were much different from what he had grown up believing. Amazingly, both of his parents were alive and married and it turns out that Chaz has both an older and younger brother.

What seemed unexpected was his meeting with his foster mother, who he met first and who also told him much of his history. When he was born, Chaz required surgery, which his parents at the time could not afford. The doctor had convinced them to put him up for adoption so that he could get the medical care he needed to survive. His foster mother, who typically cared for two children at a time, was only able to care for Chaz because of his condition. She wanted to help him, but was also unable to, and therefore forced to give him up. That first week after giving him up was very difficult for her. In her sorrow, she went out to buy a cross, which she had worn for the past 18 years. She gave that cross to Chaz, which he now wears.

That same day, Chaz met his birth family. It is impossible for me to capture the moment in these words, but the imagery of the way Chaz described it, in addition to a letter he shared with me from his social worker, who witnessed the reunion, was incredibly moving to me. Initially there were few words that could be said by his birth parents except “we’re sorry,” which along with the lifetime of questions and catching up that both parties wanted to know, had to be shared through an interpreter. Incredible, too, was the fact that his brothers did not know of his existence until shortly before their meeting. Chaz has yet to meet his older brother because he is serving in the army, which is compulsory for all Korean men. However, I saw pictures of him and the rest of Chaz’s family.

To be fair, this was a very unlikely meeting with an even unlikelier outcome. And, I’m sure the circumstances of this turn in everyone’s lives are quite complicated. Of the forty-some reunions between families on this program, they told Chaz this is by far the happiest situation given the circumstances. Until then, both Chaz’s parents and foster parents assumed he had died. Chaz’s adopted sister also learned about her family, and though it is unfortunate that her family’s history is not as happy, Chaz indicated that it brought closure to her. I think we have come to hear and use this word, “closure” very casually. In her case, the significance is not lost on me and I am happy that she has at least some answers about the first chapter in her life.

It’s hard to say why hearing this story touched me so much. Ultimately, I’m just happy for Chaz and his family. He’s off to Albion this fall and I wish him the best. He’s already planning a trip back to Korea over the holidays and hopes to study there next summer. He is also reconsidering his career aspirations, which he now hopes will include the opportunity to travel internationally so that he can visit Korea.

I remember now another detail about this story. Chaz’s father told him that he used to smoke a pack a day. This increased to two packs a day or more just prior to their meeting, but once he saw his son, he decided that he would quit smoking and instead use that money to help pay for Chaz’s trips back to Korea. Like so many aspects of this story, to understand Korean culture and values in terms of parenting, family, pride and remorse makes it all the more incredible.

Returning to camp after missing it last year was a great experience, though I admit that I felt like much more of an observer than a participant. In a way, it was nice to be up there and not have any of the responsibilities that made it difficult to simply enjoy being part of something so endearing, though I always did. I’m most thankful that the staff and the directors (especially my trusted friend, Jeanah) are doing such a great job of carrying on the tradition with the love and care that make camp such a special experience for everyone.

Hopefully now, one can understand the impact camp has had and continues to have on my life even as I enter middle age. I met many of my dearest friends as a child at SJC. In fact, six of the people in our wedding party have shared camp with me at some point in our lives (it’s actually seven, if you count Jeffrey, who once attended Camp Westminster, where the camp is held). I stayed in Cabin 8 during my last visit and took pictures of many familiar names, including my own from as far back as 1983. I also saw an old friend, Karin Chung, whose nine-year-old daughter, Jamison, was I believe one of the first second-generation campers. Coincidentally, Karin was the person who introduced me to Grace back in college.

Well, there’s really a lifetime of memories, all of which I couldn’t possibly share here. Looking back, all I know is that my experiences at SJC have shaped a lot of who I am today. My involvement as an adult has been by far more rewarding and enlightening as anything I’ve done professionally. Looking forward, all I can hope for is that my own children will one day be able to attend as campers. Here are some pictures and also a couple of movies (precamp, planning) from a few years ago.