It could have been one of those romantic love stories, but it wasn't.

It could have been a postwar epic novel, but it wasn't.

It was one of those things that occur, but never advertised as a product of the scenario of war and its aftermath.

Nine months (actually 2 weeks shy thereof) I got my first glimpse of the world, it was my grandmother's home. Absent of a father, who had made his way back to the "land of opportunity", not knowing he had a son. My mother was determined to find him. With assistance from another American, she was able to get word to him that he had a son.

There was an older brother, Dukki, from another father but that was kept a secret.

Eighteen months later, the family was united...

Born SunKi Kratavil, April 4, 1955...or was it April 6? The debate between the mother and the official documents.

Born an Aires in the year of the Ram...a double Ram. Why not? It was the mixing of the East and West. The doubles show up everywhere 4th month, 4th day. 19-5-5. (My most favorite fact is that the date is exactly 100 days after Christmas, except on leap years).

The mother was of the Andong-Kim family. A family with links to Genghis Khan.

The father's lineage could be traced to the Mayflower on his mother's side. Two brothers changing their last name from Sloper to Sleeper. They possibly were the first Jews that set foot on American soil (so, the myth that the Mayflower just had Puritans pilgrimaging to these shores is finally officially disspelled). On the father side of the father, there were two who found their way to America to runaway from her family (a royal Bohemian family that were against her marriage to a tinker). In 1958, at the tender age of 3, the family (now including a younger sister, Debra Denese) began its journey to America. Spending fourteen days in a military transport ship (3 in the middle of a typhoon, tied down in a bunk so we wouldn't be tossed around), the voyage ended with the sight of the Golden Gate Bridge. Not realizing at that time that there was a significance to the symbolism in that there is a "gate" facing West and a Statue of Liberty facing East. One symbolizing "open arms to the American dream", the other symbolizing the silent prejudices that were to be an invisible obstacle most of my early years in this wonderful place called the United States of America.

Our first place of residence was on our grandparents chicken farm in Santa Maria, California. Chicken was a welcomed change from the usual meat we had back in Korea (hot dogs).

The only memories I have of Santa Maria are mostly the one's that were re-introduced to me by my grandmother. One time (still without the ability of speaking any English), a neighborhood child came over on a Sunday to ask us to play. Not understanding what he was saying, my older brother and I sprayed him down with a garden hose...unfortunate for him as he was wearing his Sunday suit. When my mother found out, we spent the next few minutes running with her in hot pursuit with one of those paddles with a ball on the end of a long rubber string.

Another was of the first words of English we learned. My brother and I were invited by a church group to join them on a trip to a zoo. So, we went and were very amused by all the creatures, especially the monkeys. So much so, that we started mimicking them (you know the hand on the head stratching and one in the armpit stratching method). The other kids in our group found our antics so amusing they taught us how to say "I am monkey". Not knowing what they had taught us, we continued with our mimicking with the added verbage. Everyone laughed and had a good time...that is until we got home and displayed to our parents our first English lesson. My older brother was upset at the ridicule we had just suffered.

Living only a few months at my American grandparents, my father managed to re-enlist (even though he had gotten an honorable discharge due to a heart attack he suffered in Korea). We then trekked to a small town of Junction City, Kansas (which is supposedly the geographical center of the continental U.S.A.).

That's where my memory becomes more clear of my childhood. I remember watching television (for the first time understanding it as my English was getting so much better), it was one of those late 50's sci-fi flicks. In it's black and white spookiness. I actually thought I was watching something that was really happening...I was so afraid those aliens were going to eventually come and get us all.

I learned my first "cuss" word. A neighborhood pal taught it to me. So, not knowing what it meant, I ran home and asked my mother what "f--ker" meant...which got me a prompt slap on the face. It took me a long time to find out what that word meant and it wasn't from my mother.

Living in Kansas was a very easy-going time. My parents decided to add another child to the clan in December of 1959. Which was the Christmas I was introduced to Santa Claus. Waiting in line to sit on a old fat man's lap with all those other kids...well, let's just say it was not my cup of oolong tea. So, when it was finally my turn to sit on his lap and answer his question of "what do you want for Christmas, little boy," my action was to notice this imposter's phony facial hair. Pulling off his beard I announced to all those around "this man's a f--ker". Well, you can imagine the reaction of all those kids and their parents...I was lucky it was my father who was with us kids and not my mother. He just laughed and escorted us out of there. I am sure he was happy that the 2 Kratavil kids had already taken their turn on Santa's lap.

Then there was the time after a storm had passed through, that a friend (not my "English" teacher) and I were outside, totally amazed at the destruction caused. Trees down into power lines, broken poles...it was a mess, but very entertaining for two young boys to see all these men in their company trucks working so diligently to clean-up the mess. We (my buddy and I) walking through the "war zone", noted a tree torn open. Its white fiberous interior exposed. Grabbing a piece I announced, "chicken." Which we both then commenced in eating. After the first few chews, we both spitted out the pulp. He then said, "this is yuck-a," and my reply was, "what'd you expect, it ain't even cooked."

Then came Michael Vincent, my younger brother...now there were four kids and the family pulled up stakes when my father was honorably discharged for the second time due to a heart attack. The Kratavil clan moved west to California, to a growing community of Santa Barbara. Living in a small house, which eventually gave way to a parking lot, I finally entered the world of public education.

The world of public education, with a limited command of the English language, was a very cruel world. With the movies on television depicting Asians as primarily "Japs" or sinister Chinese...it was not a favorable thing to be so different from the other children. The war of words as a child usually turns into a war of fists. I learned very early that being hit was necessary to hit back, those that dared to instigate any kind of fisty-cuffs soon found out that I was a crazy Korean that did not stop even when I was down.

That year I came down with a rare blood allergy, I do not to this day know what it was. Just that one evening after eating an apple my stomach started to give me severe pains. My father found me upstairs on my bedroom floor, curled up in agony, half-passed out, moaning. There were quarter size red splotches all over my body. I was rushed to the hospital where I spent about 4 weeks (including Christmas...which began my long streak of being ill during the holidays). I was in a semi-private room with another boy that was terminally ill. I was given various drugs to keep the pain away...sometimes the pain was so bad I would ask for shots (not a thing 5 year old kids would do). I then was transfered to a military hospital in a children's ward for about another 2-3 weeks, where more tests were performed. During the whole ordeal I was unable to anything that had milk as an ingredient. You would be surprised how much stuff has milk in it. Ever had cereal with 7-Up?

1962 middle of the school year in first grade, the family relocated into the suburbs of Santa Barbara. The housing tract still incomplete we were one of the first families in. There was another family moving in across the street at the same time and that's when I met one of my very best friends, Danny (who in 1997 located me via the web after more than 20 years of no contact...amazing thing this "net").

A new school, Hollister, was built and that's where my elementary education ran its course. Things that stand out during those years was the 2 summers I spent at my grandparents (with my older brother) in Notus, Idaho. A small town next to the Boise River. With a one lane wooden bridge that we would fish off of with the bamboo poles my grandfather made. The simplicity of it all, the community feeling---that neighborly thing. It was a total break from the intense stress. So much of a release of the stress that my fingernails would recover from the nailbiting of the other 9 months.

Had my first crush in 3rd grade...she was a 2nd grader that got bump up a grade early in the school year. Someone that showed to be mentally competitive with me. I had been doing algebra in 2nd grade. I remember the first encounter...she was with two of her friends and they were hassling my friend, Danny. So, I stepped in and the next thing I knew I had been clawed. With one swipe, she had managed to catch the inside of my lower lip and the blood flowed freely. A few days later I kind of, in my best sleuth skills, followed her home. Walking in circles about a block away around a corner, I contemplated what to do. Before I could decide, she came walking back with some munchables. It was a very special friendship, to that is. Our paths crossed many years later (back in the late 80's) and though she remembered me, it was definite that our paths had gone far apart not just in time but in mind.

new entry 4/28/98

The trek through elementary school built its routine, though the fists fights lessened, they were there just the same. Still too young to really understand the ways minds develop such strange associations with another individual's differences. My only advantage was that I matured sooner than my "full-blooded" American counterparts. Thus was when size made a difference to the positive side of life's scale (a luxury I enjoyed for only a few years, then became small again...or should I say everyone else got tall).

My memory at times seems more vivid than others, thus my recollection of events seem like it happened yesterday while those who participated in those events do not even remember a single detail...which doesn't explain why I have such a hard time with events that have occurred like yesterday.

In sixth grade, the year that I really made a leap in my total maturity. I look back now and am even amazed still the philosophical changes I made at that age. The sudden switch from being very much into my European ethnic background to becoming more aware of my Asian half. More accepting of my differences rather than wanting to be the same. I cherish my individuality and that was when I began my trek to be different.

new entry 8/22/98

ok, so I thought I was going to be able to add here...but now that I'm in the editor, I thought I'd better do something here otherwise I'll have to go back to the main page and re-edit the changes there.

more to come...

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