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My harabeoji had many secrets, and one of them was tucked inside his BLT.
He kept many things hidden—grief, remorse, worry—in an abyss of stubborn silence. He left Korea for San Diego in 1978 after enduring more than half a century of instability and loss. It was then, at 67, that he started anew, not to retire to manicured golf courses and poolside card games like other sexagenarians, but to work in a corner deli. He had been a widower, briefly, and now, in his new city, he was a newlywed with a new business.
