Had Fun Anyway

Reminders from an underdressed Ken

LAX was insanely crowded the day we left America last summer. It’s never anything but a chaotic mess, but July 6th, immediately after the Independence Day long weekend, was really special. With breaking hearts, we said goodbye to Skyler, our eighteen-year-old, in our hotel room. She was flying east later that day as we flew west to South Korea.

Matt and I came up with a plan: he would drop me and our three youngest kids, plus all our baggage, near the check-in counter while he returned the rental car and came back to the terminal on a shuttle. The plan worked, more or less, thanks to this not being our first rodeo. We piled most of our bags onto a couple luggage carts that Lilly, thirteen, and I pushed, while Wyatt and Annalee, aged nine and six, each pulled two of the smaller rolling suitcases and carried their massive backpacks.

We wobbled our way to a quiet-ish spot where we waited for Matt’s return, just slightly out of the merciless crush of people, and I kept thinking I really needed to redistribute some of the weight before we checked in. Since I had the time, I unzipped one bag. And that’s when he tumbled out on the floor, in full view of everyone.

“He” was Annalee’s Ken doll (male Barbie? What are they even called now?). Except not just Ken, looking dapper in a tux, ready for his wedding to Barbie, or in casual shorts and polo combination. It was Au Naturale Ken wearing… nothing. Well, nothing made of fabric anyway. Ken in his skivvies, his skintone “tighty-whities”. He lay on the floor as startled travelers glanced down, their faces shocked and puzzled, wondering from where this minimally dressed Ken had arrived.

In all fairness, I was puzzled too.

The night before we left our home, I told Annalee, age 6, that she could choose five small toys to last the next three or four months. We had requested a pack out of our household goods before our departure, but thanks to all things 2021, our request was denied and we didn’t get our house packed up till the first week in August, a month after we left. (**My parents and Skyler were proxies, for those wondering how on earth we did this.**) Then it would be at least two-and-a-half months until our things arrived in Korea.

I tried to communicate all of this to Annalee, expecting her to choose wisely, especially considering we had to do a fourteen day intense quarantine upon our arrival in a small barracks apartment with extremely limited outdoor time. The problems were 1) she’s six, and 2) I didn’t check her final selections. I just asked, “Did you pick your toys for our trip?” and she said, “Yes,” and that was it.

Now, when I asked her why she brought this particular toy—of all the others she could have chosen—she looked puzzled and said, “I dunno. I like him.”

“Okay,” I said wondering why she would, (Was it the hair?) “but why doesn’t he have clothes?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t find any.” It obviously didn’t matter to her, and to be fair, I would have been hard-pressed to find him clothes, too.

(Side note: why are Barbie clothes so expensive? Is it because they have the ability to magically disappear?)

Anyway, I will never know why she chose him, but there he was on the floor of the Delta departures terminal at LAX, people gingerly stepping over him as they hurried along. I was mortified, keeping my eyes down lest anyone see my embarrassment as I scrambled to scoop up this under-dressed doll and stuff him quickly into the deepest bowels of another suitcase.

And then my eyes met Lilly’s and we both burst out laughing. It was honestly just what I needed right then as my heart ached so much.

That wasn’t the only surprise appearance he made. I always thought he was sufficiently out of sight, and therefore hopefully out of Annalee’s mind, but then—suddenly— there he always was, at the worst possible times. On the table, in full view, when someone brought us the takeout we ordered while in quarantine. Lounging casually in the kinetic sandbox in our hotel room in Seoul as I realized housekeeping had come that day. In the middle of the floor when the deliverymen brought our temporary furniture to our new apartment. Au Naturale Ken was determined to keep me humble. I wonder how many people looked at us, with Annalee holding tight to him last summer and thought, Oh my gosh! Those people are weird!

But Au Naturale Ken also kept me laughing during one of the hardest moves I’ve ever done. He was sort of like a twisted Elf on the Shelf except that he kept surprising me with new moments of embarrassment that turned quickly to much-needed hilarity.

2021 was a challenging year in so many ways. There was our move from where we thought for a few happy seconds that we’d be settling down, back to Korea eleven months after our departure. The afore-mentioned household goods woes. Our intense quarantine, not too unlike prison, upon arrival. Getting to Seoul in the midst of a situation that made it seem utterly impossible to connect with anyone and make friends. Deciding on the kids’ school without ever seeing it in person. A raging UTI-turned-kidney infection in the middle of all this. One of our dogs dying, and the stress (and expense—yikes!) of getting the other one here. Christmas without my two oldest daughters, who couldn’t come to Korea because of changes to the quarantine policy. Restrictions being added instead of lifted, and trying to keep track of the mind-boggling and ever-changing amount of them.

People talk about 2020 being hard, and it was. But for me, I think 2021 was somehow even harder. Still, I hope I hold as tightly to the Au Naturale Ken moments—times that still surprise me enough to bring a smile to my lips or grateful tears to my eyes—as Annalee did to that silly doll. Like the friends I never expected to make during “yard time” in quarantine. Watching The History Channel’s Alone during the many hours in the quarantine barracks—I mean, really, is there a better time to watch a survival show? The rhythms this 5/7ths version of my family developed in our new home. The women who graciously said, “Hi, are you new?” that one day at the pool and turned what felt like the loneliest two weeks into something hopeful, friends I hope to hold tight to forever. The Christmas that, stripped of so many things that normally make the season fun, had its own rich beauty in simplicity and felt somehow so right despite the heartache.

When I think of 2021, I remember an awful lot of hard. But those Au Naturale Ken moments help me remember, “We had some fun anyway.” We didn’t take ourselves too seriously, we kept our hearts ever open to new friendships, and we were extra grateful when anything good came along. Maybe, just maybe, that means we learned how to do this life a little better.

Can you relate? Have you had any “Au Naturale Ken” moments you had recently?

*******************

Of the books I’ve read (or listened to) this year, here are my top recommendations:

The Nature Principle by Richard Louv. I think there is so much valuable information here about the importance of nature in our lives (and the lives of our children!), and it’s written in such a friendly, conversational tone. I read Louv’s Last Child in the Woods four years ago, and I highly recommend that too!

I love Kelly Corrigan’s writing, and read Tell Me More which was great, then re-read Glitter and Glue just because it’s so sweet and poignant and exquisitely written.

Wintering by Katherine May. I’d seen a lot about this one lately on social media, and it did not disappoint. It bears some similarities to The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer, which is probably the best non-fiction book I read last year. I tend to be done with winter about three weeks into it, but May’s lovely writing invited me to embrace it more—both actual winter and more importantly, the metaphorical “winter” seasons of life that we all will inevitably find ourselves in at some point in life. (See also: my life right now.)

Talking to Strangers by Malcolm Gladwell. This was fascinating and disturbing. On the one hand, it should probably have a “trigger warning” for alllllll the hard stuff, which made it the kind of book I normally shy away from. I mean… I had a hard time getting through the Dursleys’ treatment of Harry Potter, so this was a real stretch for me. But I learned so much and think we could all benefit from the book’s many valuable insights about communication and truth.

I also made it a point to read something light after that!

What have you read lately?

*******************

Until next time…

Joy