Centralight

18 centralight fall '14 18 centralight fall '14 The Korean Ministry of Public Information sent an eight-minute movie showing the "Chosen Children." Reports also came back from Corn Sow Song, a former resident of the orphanage who often visited to help the orphanage's director, Mrs. Sa Nyo Kang. One letter he sent on Oct. 28, 1962, noted the October allotment of $350 had arrived on the 11th and was spent on – among other things – six pigs, food and school uniforms. About half the money, he said, was added to a library building fund. Central's Chosen Children was going strong when Kirwan graduated in 1961. Before he left, he asked good friend and roommate Ray Speigl, '65, to take over as chairman. "Everybody wanted to do the right thing and help out," recalls Speigl, now 74 and living in Saff ord, Arizona. "We wanted to try and make the orphanage self-supporting. I don't think any of us had any idea how much of a diff erence we could make." "The orphans didn't freeze, and they had something to eat," Kirwan says. And that was huge, say two former orphans now living successful lives in Korea. "We'll carry on the gift you've given us" ByungShik Lim entered the orphanage at age 8 in 1956, separated from his parents during the war. He lived there until he was 13. Today he owns a stationery store in Kwang Myung, 30 miles from Seoul. ByungYong Ahn was 5 when he came to the orphanage. He ran away a lot, hoping to fi nd his family. He never did. Ahn now owns a successful barbecue restaurant in Paju. Both men, in a recent interview via Skype, shared memories of receiving packages from Central, fi lled with clothes and food. "The pastor would say, 'This one came from Michigan.' So we knew about the help," Lim says, through a translator. Conditions at the orphanage improved, the men say. But once children were old enough to fi nd work and support themselves, they left. "I did almost every job in hard labor you can think of," Lim says. He shined shoes, worked at a barbershop and then entered military service, spending three years in Saudi Arabia. He came home and started a stationery and school supply business with the money he earned in the military. He got married and has a son, a daughter and two grandchildren. Ahn lived at the orphanage until he was 12 and then headed out, also, shining shoes, selling vegetables on the street, working in restaurants and driving a taxi. He's married and has a 33-year-old son. "Maybe it was because I grew up in hardship, but when I opened my business, I pledged to give 40 percent of my profi ts as payback to the community," he says. He regularly serves chicken soup lunches to the poor and the elderly. "Everyone is doing well," Lim says of the former orphans. "Some are in the transportation business, some are public servants, some went into military service, lots are self-employed. We're all self-reliant and determined – characteristics of an orphan background." About 20 of the former orphans from the Mun San Orphanage regularly get together in a group called Han-Ma-Um. It means "One Heart." "It's like a brotherhood without the family," Ahn says. "We meet to see how we're doing, share meals, collect memories." "To see faces, have a drink, have a conversation," Lim adds. "Not having a biological family, the orphans became family." The men say they're still grateful for the years of support from CMU students. "We'll carry on the gift you've given us," Ahn says. "We will continue to support the community and meet people's needs, as much as we're able." Adds Lim: "We have not forgotten about your support."

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