Chapter 2: My Friend Phillip Choe- 1972-1973

Comes a Time
Comes a time when the blind-man takes your hand, says "Don't you see?
Gotta make it somehow on the dreams you still believe."
Don't give it up, you got an empty cup only love can fill,
only love can fill.

Been walking all morning went walking all night
I can’t see much difference between the dark and light
And I feel the wind and I taste the rain
Never in my mind to cause so much pain

Comes a time when the blind-man takes your hand, says "Don't you see?
Gotta make it somehow on the dreams you still believe."
Don't give it up, you got an empty cup only love can fill,
only love can fill.

From day to day just letting it ride.
You get so far away from how it feels inside.
You can't let go cause you're afraid to fall,
But the day may come when you can't feel at all.

The words come out like an angry stream.
You hear yourself say things you could never mean.
When you cool down you find your mind.
You got a lot of words you've got to stand behind.

Comes a time when the blind-man takes your hand, says "Don't you see?
Gotta make it somehow on the dreams you still believe."
Don't give it up, you got an empty cup only love can fill,
only love can fill, only love can fill, only love can fill.

- “Comes A Time” by The Grateful Dead

My Friend Phillip Choe- 1972-1973

I attended first grade at Grove Elementary School in Morton Grove, IL- which is now the police station. Yes, there is police station on School St. in Morton Grove. I guess that law enforcement is more important than education in Morton Grove albeit the student population was noticeably shrinking at the school. There was only one class per grade. The original school building may have been old enough to be significant to the history of Morton Grove. The school building was promptly raised!

During first grade, there was a new boy in our class: Phillip Choe. Phillip Choe was directly from Korea. Ms. Kuhn- a genuine, gray haired, ancient spinster with a negative attitude towards life from the experience- sat Phillip Choe next to me. He had straight, dark black hair, silver dental work and had the subtle odor of kimchee; and he spoke virtually no English. One of the first English phrases he learned was, “I tell teacher” with a thick Korean accent. This, of course, was a good phrase to know when the other kids picked on him. I always stood steadfastly by my friend, Phillip Choe. I wasn’t going to let the “C” students in our class mess with my friend Phillip Choe. Even though our ability to verbally communicate was very limited- almost non-existent- we became very close friends. I’ve always been attracted to unique and off-the-beaten path experiences. Having an immigrant friend that I could hardly speak with fit the bill. Matchbox cars, puzzles, coloring books and model airplanes were our games. This is enough to amuse two six year old boys for hours at a time without us saying a word. We played often. Phillip Choe’s English improved over time. I’m not so sure about his parents’ English. In second grade, his family moved out of the area but close enough that Phillip Choe and I could still remain friends. Sometimes he came over to my parents’ apartment and sometimes my mother would drive me to Philip Choe’s new apartment. We played with Matchbox cars, puzzles, coloring books and model airplanes. We always had a good time. Phillip Choe was a good friend and I enjoyed our times together. I think his mom fed us traditional Korean food. This was my first experience with Korean food which I am still fond of today.

One play time, I went to Philip Choe’s apartment and he looked different. I noticed that his left eye was crossed. I didn’t know what to make of it. Would this happen to me? Nonetheless, we still played with Matchbox cars, puzzles, coloring books and model airplanes. Nothing was different. We played several more times and I noticed that Phillip Choe didn’t look so well. I was not intellectually able to understand Philip Choe’s declining health. So we played. The last time I was at Phillip Choe’s apartment, he gave me a model airplane that was our best success to date. Phillip Choe was kind and generous with a very nice family.

It was Phillip Choe’s turn to come to my family’s apartment. My mother sat me down before Phillip Choe arrived at our apartment. My mother told me that there was to be no roughhousing. I had to play gently with him. I was confused. When Phillip Choe arrived at my apartment, I notice that both of his eyes were crossed. Even worse, I notice that Phillip has a lemon size bump on the back of head and neck. Phillip Choe let me touch it. It was hard and I was very confused. In spite of these perplexing changes, we were back to our usual Matchbox cars, puzzles, coloring books and model airplanes. By this time, Phillip Choe’s English had noticeably improved. I thought that that he was speaking a little slower than normal. We still had a great time.

Shortly thereafter, when I was in second grade, my mother sat me down before school and told me that my friend Phillip Choe had died. I didn’t have the intellectual mechanisms to grasp this. My mother had explained to me that my friend Phillip Choe became very sick and now he was with G-d in heaven. I asked, “Can I play with Phillip again?” My mother, with tears in her eyes, said, “No”. I was deeply saddened but I still didn’t understand. I went to my second grade class as normal. Our teacher, Ms. Campbell, my second favorite grade school teacher, knew about the death of my friend Phillip Choe. I asked to go home about seven times. Each time Ms. Campbell said, “No”. My reasons to go home became perpetually less believable. I started with “I’m sick” and the credibility of my excuses just went downhill from there. Ms. Campbell knew that I was deeply saddened- bordering on depression- but she knew that keeping me in class was for my own good. Life goes on and the universe does not stop because of the death of a person no matter how tragic. Eventually, school was out for the day and I went home. I felt no better about my friend Phillip Choe than I had that morning. My parents tried to comfort me to no avail. How long would I be sad about the death my friend Phillip Choe?

Although I did not go, my parents went to my friend Phillip Choe’s funeral. An open casket funeral for a dead seven year old boy is no place for his seven year old friends. My mother commented many years later that she had never seen such a little boy in a suit.

I had many other friends and I would make more in the future. Eventually, the sadness and even my memories of my friend Phillip Choe faded: like a bad dream after one wakes.

I have an 8 year old nephew Jacob. We play frequently. He is into video games, that I can’t master, Pokemon which I still don’t understand, sports- he’s a great athlete- and music. I bought him a drum set: sort of a passive-aggressive way to annoy, as a joke, my sister and brother-in-law (both of whom I love very much). Jacob and his friends beat the hell out of it. It might be cheaper to buy a new set rather than trying to fix the old set. He also listens to Kraftwerk. How he got to them I’ll never know. He, too, plays with my old Matchbox cars, which my parents saved. One day, while playing with Jacob, powerful memories of my friend Phillip Choe that had been repressed for decades, came flooding back. I’ve now cried a few times for my friend Phillip Choe. This is something I didn’t do enough of in second grade because I didn’t know I was supposed to. Now I have the intellectual mechanisms to think back about the awful tragedy of the death of my friend Phillip Choe. Looking into my nephew’s eyes and witnessing the joys of his childhood, I was reminded of my friend Phillip Choe. How much of life was Phillip Choe cheated out of? His poor parents: how they must have suffered.

Even though my life is filled with wonderful children- a niece, a nephew, cousins, friends’ children and two G-d daughters, all of whom fill my life with joy- I still can’t forget my childhood friend Philip Choe. May he rest in peace and my I find peace of mind to understand the first of my life’s major tragedies. Sadly, my friend Philip Choe would not be the only friend I would bury.