60

In the Fall of 1981, along with 11 of my friends, I saw the Rolling Stones at Candlestick Park in San Francisco (where I was, for the first and only time in my life, tear gassed which is a subject for a different post). Just a few weeks later, we threw a birthday party for my dad who was turning 60. In Korean culture, this milestone is known as Hwangap which is a celebration of making to 60 years of age, which in the late 19th/early 20th century was considered a pretty long life. Hwangap also marked five completed revolutions through the twelve station lunar calendar. My dad was born in the Year of the Chicken, a ridiculous irony if ever there was one.

My dad was a short, short-tempered, generally taciturn man. He wasn’t affectionate but he when he was proud of you, it felt a ray of sunshine on your face. He was a terrible drinker- at his Hwangap, he knocked back a drink or two and got very red in the face, not mean or violent but he'd get pretty loud. In his wry, morbid (slurring) way, he said that he was now officially “living on borrowed time.” At the time, this was a disconcerting statement, coming from one's dad. But he had a good laugh and my mom rolled her eyes, so everything seemed okay.

Today, 60 no longer represents a longevity milestone. In fact, everyone tells me that 60 is the new 40. It seems that 70 or 80 is a more common reason to celebrate these days. They don’t easily divide by 12 but they’re round numbers. I guess I’m being sentimental but I want to celebrate a Hwangap for my 60th birthday. Technically, our children are supposed to arrange my Hwangap; I’m almost inclined to ask them to do it, just so they can get in touch with their increasingly distant Korean roots. But I’m a pragmatist- I’ll just head over to my local bar, drink til I turn red, and start counting the hours and minutes that I owe.