The Naming Ceremony

It wasn't the human-sized balloons floating around the rafters, nor was it the little glass jars with small exotic fish placed on each of the 30 tables being occupied. It wasn't the fact that the bill was in the thousands, and it wasn't even that all of this was for a one year old child that will never remember the party that was thrown in his honor. What really took me aback was the father's comment as he presented his son to the party gathered around food and drink: "We know he will be wealthy and successful, so we're not really worried about that. We're only interested in which sports he will excel." It was said plainly, as if these were facts and not assumptions.

In Korean culture, one year olds are thrown massive parties. The reason for this, as was explained to me by my friend, is that a long time ago when infant mortality rates were really high a child would not be named until his first birthday. Back in those days, in fact, it was a naming ceremony, and it was largely reserved for the nobility. A young prince would be dressed in the finest garments and paraded around through the festivities, and his family would be showered with gifts and money. The high point of the ceremony was when the prince would be placed in front of a table with different vocational symbols splayed out. A bow and arrow, a sword, a sickle (I doubt this would have ever been put out in a noble's party), and other such items would sit in front of the child, and whichever he chose was thought to be the path he would follow. The little boy being celebrated at my restaurant on Saturday was choosing between a golf ball, a soccer ball, a football (ball?), a baseball, and a basketball, no swords or nun chucks or bows and arrows. Those would have made for an interesting future. (As a side note, there were fruits and vegetables all around, and he kept grabbing those, tomatoes in particular. I mentioned to someone in the party that perhaps he was destined to be a farmer—my aside was not well received.)

It was at this point in the ceremony that the father made his statement. Initially I was surprised by the apparent pompousness of his words. Who knows what your child will have? God forbid, a terrible tragedy befalls him, or you. Ghengis Khan's father was a strong leader, yet he was killed, and Ghengis lived in dire poverty and servitude for years after that. If he hadn't been as strong and driven, that would have been his lot for the rest of his life. Such things can't be predicted, and perhaps this is just the superstitious Mexican in me, but tempting fate never seems a wise move. Never.

But I moved past this, and in between thoughts of diet cokes, iced teas and coffees, it dawned on me that this man lives in a world that I will never know. It’s not just the money, I might have that someday (yeah right), it’s the sense of security, and that isn’t created in one lifetime, that is fostered and built up over generations. This man must come from a family that has had money and success for generations. At what cost I wonder? Is this the life that he wanted? Perhaps. Is this the life that his child is going to want? Perhaps. But what if it isn’t? What if his son, wants to be a rock star, or a fireman, or a social worker? Are these young, well-t0-do parents going to be ok with that? Or will he be expected to sacrifice his individuality, his own personal dreams to fit into the family mould and model? That is the thing with security. It’s safe and it’s stable, but it’s rigid, hard and ultimately, very boring.

Since the time I was young, my future and my life have always been up in the air, uncertain, and unclear, but I’ve always known that whatever my life becomes, it is mine, and mine alone, created by my own decisions and my own actions (and oh yeah, the hand of God). My parents were too poor to give me anything more than that sense of self-reliance, but I am grateful for it, because in that lies freedom, and I prefer that to security any day.

In the real world, that boy is going to be the next golf legend, wealthy, successful, happily married, and content with the lot laid before him, while I will be stressed and underpaid, trying to sell my kids on the idea that money doesn’t matter. Ha! See you next week.