Hoon (Peter) and Yunhee (Maria) Shim Jeung are my grandparents, although they didn’t seem like the ‘typical’ set of grandparents to me. I was different. For as long as I can remember I have grown up in a predominantly Caucasian community, while my family and I are also East Asian. This meant I looked different compared to the average elementary school student. This often leaves me in a unique position because I grew up with many different experiences that my classmates didn’t. Kids made fun of me and my culture, so at a young age, I learned to be embarrassed by what made me unique. My grandparents have been a part of my life since I born, but I wasn't able to realize this until recently.

My grandpa passed in 2015 but he is still always watching over my family. My vivid memories of him start with how he would wake up every morning, even before the sun did, so he would have time with God. He would then go out in the garden to weed his beautiful garden filled with different rose bushes, bean and tomato vines, and peach trees that surrounded the great house. My grandpa was always ecstatic and loved to hear about what I was doing in my classes and what I thought about my future. He wanted me to pursue STEM and one day follow in his steps to go to medical school. I had many opportunities to the golf course with him, where we would spend our Saturday mornings every time I came to visit. He wore a dress shirt and jeans with his white socks and big gray slippers. His gray and white hair was always parted down the middle and he wore large, almost cartoon-like glasses on his nose. I remember one morning at the local golf course, he brought lunch and we had picnic at a table that lined the dense woods. He pulled out our normal sandwiches and also a small cake that was shaped like a cartoon fish.  I was only 7 years old at this point and was still learning about the world around me, so I grabbed a fish cake, excited about what would await inside. I took a huge bite into the cake but was horrified that inside what not something light and sweet, but instead a thick bitter flavor. My grandpa and I laughed together, with his echoing so loud that anyone within a mile radius would have been able to hear. He explained to me that this food was called “bungeo” and was, in fact, a fish-shaped cake, filled with red bean paste.

In the living room, he sat on a wide faux leather chair with a picture of himself hanging above. It is a professionally taken photo from when he graduated medical school in the United States of him dressed in his cap and gown. There is another photo on the wall of the Jeung Family from 1999 when I had not yet been born. It has both grandparents, my parents, my older sister at one year old and my aunt and uncle. I would like to consider us a small family because the other side of my family I have has eight aunts and uncles, over two dozen cousins and many of them have children of their own. After that picture on the mantel was taken I was born, and so was my younger sister and brother. My Aunt and Uncle had three girls as well. Out of the seven total grandchildren, only one of them is a boy. I always remember my grandpa’s deep voice calling out “Emmy come downstairs!” throughout their house, that I long believed was my own personal mansion. I would run down the flights of stairs to their personal dance floor with a spinning disco ball hanging from the ceiling. I could spend hours deep in that basement, dancing my young heart out.
My grandma now lives on her own in  Celebration, Florida and we go to visit her as often as possible. She hasn’t changed her style for as long as I can remember. She still has her same short black hair and wears black or brown dress pants with a colorful cardigan. Whenever I need to look for her, I know I can always find her in the kitchen cooking for us. She shows us grandchildren about how to make anything we want. I have learned how to make bulgogi, kimbap, potstickers and so much more, something I would otherwise not have the opportunity to learn about from someone who has mastered making them over many decades. She would explain them to us in great detail about how she learned from her parents and wanted us to continue the tradition. She teaches us on how to fold the small wrappers into packages so none of the fillings would spill out as they are cooking in the bamboo steamer and how to have fine knife cuts and tight rolls when creating the kimbap. She tells us to continually practice, even without her present, so that we can train our muscle memory into perfecting the technique.
Both of my grandparents immigrated from the Korea’s in 1970, right before my uncle was born. After that, my grandpa earned a doctorate at medical school and opened his own practice, which was open from 1976 until 2002 in Cass City. Even before that, my grandma escaped North Korea as a young adult. She knew that it meant leaving behind most of her direct family, but took initiative for herself, months before the border closed. Almost every time I talk to my grandparents, they are able to share with me more stories of their failures and successes. My grandparents have loved the United States since they had the opportunity to immigrate here. They have loved every single opportunity that they have been able to have. They have worked hard since moving here; they spoke no English and only had $100 in their pockets when they arrived here. They are one of my inspirations to continue to work hard in everything I do. If they were able to build a life for themselves, even after all of the difficulties they had to go through, then I can do the same for myself.  Although the challenges I go through are not to the same extent as theirs, I am still able to create a name for myself and all of the hard work I am able to accomplish. My grandparents have become a source of inspiration for me. My family is my role model and hero. They continue to push me further than anything I could have imagined for myself while being beside me support.