Bottles piling up at home? Wondering whether a wine fridge is worth it?
Wine is, at its core, a bottled beverage with around 13% alcohol. It doesn’t spoil easily. However, that said, if you want it to taste exactly the same a few months from now as it does today, you’ll want to store it somewhere dark and cool, what the French call a cave, essentially a cellar-like environment. Experts give a fairly wide range for ideal storage temperature: anywhere from 45°F to 68°F (7–20°C). In my own experience, a single shelf in a closet, away from direct sunlight and not directly in the path of heating or air conditioning, works perfectly well for up to a year. The key is to lay the bottles on their side, which keeps the cork moist and prevents it from drying out.
If you’re planning to finish a bottle within a month or two of buying it, there’s really no need to invest in a dedicated wine fridge. And if you just want the look, a stylish wine rack on a sideboard or countertop does the job beautifully and adds a lovely touch to any room.
When a wine fridge actually makes sense
If you find yourself regularly storing more than 20 to 30 bottles at a time, keeping wines for six months or longer, or aging premium bottles (think $80+) for several years, it’s time to invest in a proper wine fridge.
A few things to know before you buy:
Compressor vs. thermoelectric.
Smaller, quieter thermoelectric (semiconductor) models have become popular, but they’re sensitive to ambient temperature and tend to have shorter lifespans. For long-term storage, a compressor-based unit is the more reliable choice.
Brand matters.
Look for something with minimal vibration, consistent temperature control, and a solid track record for durability [Top brands worth considering: LG DIOS, Dometic, and Eurocave]. My wine fridge costs more than my main refrigerator 😅.
Dual-zone vs. single-zone.
Some models let you set different temperatures for reds and whites; others don’t. If yours has only one temperature zone, set it to white wine temperature. Reds can be served slightly warmer after taking them out, but whites need that cooler baseline.
A few practical notes:
Wine you’re planning to drink soon doesn’t need to go in the fridge, though pulling a perfectly chilled bottle from it does feel rather nice.
If you’re moving soon, hold off on buying. The vibration and temperature swings of a move aren’t great for a wine fridge or the wine inside it. Wait until you’re settled.
Wine fridges can be noisy; they take up real space. [If you’re short on room, there’s always the sommelier-approved method: clearing out a wardrobe. It works really well 🥰]; they use more electricity than a standard fridge 😭.
살면서 가끔 이런 생각을 한다. 만약 이 세상에 타이레놀이 없다면, 나는 아이를 어떻게 키웠을까, 끼울까? 열이 나고, 밤새 힘들었던 순간들. 부모라면 누구나 타이레놀의 경이에 의지해 본 경험이 있을 것이다.
우리는 익숙하게 타이레놀을 사용하지만, 타이레놀의 역사는 언제 시작된 것일까?
타이레놀의 긴 역사 많은 사람들이 타이레놀을 현대 의약품이라고 생각하지만, 그 역사는 생각보다 길다. 1955년 미국 McNeil Laboratories는 Tylenol이라는 이름으로 어린이용 해열제를 출시했다. 이후 1959년 Johnson & Johnson이 회사를 인수하면서 타이레놀은 미국 전역으로 보급되었고, 오늘날 가장 널리 사용되는 진통·해열제 중 하나가 되었다. 하지만 아세트아미노펜 자체는 훨씬 오래전인 1878년 미국 화학자 Harmon Northrop Morse에 의해 처음 합성되었다. 1890년대부터 진통과 해열 목적으로 사용되기 시작했지만, 당시에는 이미 의학계를 지배하고 있던 더 강력한 약물이 있었다. 바로 아편(Opium)이다.
인류와 함께한 진통제, 아편 아편은 인류가 수천 년 동안 사용해 온 천연 진통제이자 만병통치약이었다. 양귀비에서 얻어지는 이 물질은 통증을 줄이는 놀라운 효과를 가지고 있다.하지만 문제는 진통 효과만큼이나 강력한 의존성 중독성이다.
19세기 초 독일의 젊은 화학 견습생 Friedrich Sertürner는 아편 속에서 가장 강력한 활성 성분을 분리하는 데 성공한다. 그는 이 물질에 꿈의 신 Morpheus의 이름을 따서 Morphine이라는 이름을 붙였다. 당시 그는 자신에게 직접 약물을 투여하며 실험했고, 훗날 이 물질이 위험할 수 있다는 강력한 경고를 남긴다. 그러나 의학계는 모르핀의 강력한 진통 효과에 매료되었다. 1827년 Merck가 대량생산을 시작하면서 모르핀은 전 세계 의료 현장으로 빠르게 퍼졌다.
더 강한 약을 향한 욕망 1853년 스코틀랜드 의사 Alexander Wood는 주사기를 이용해 모르핀을 직접 체내에 주입하면 더 적은 양으로 효과를 낼 수 있다고 생각했다. 그 결과 모르핀 주사는 빠르게 확산되었다. 그 첫번째 약물과다 복용의 희생량은 Wood의 부인이었다.
당시 의사들은 더 강력하면서도 중독성이 적은 진통제를 찾았다. 그리고 그 과정에서 탄생한 것이 Heroin (acetylated morphine)이었다. 1898년 Bayer는 모르핀을 화학적으로 변형한 약물을 Heroin이라는 이름으로 판매하기 시작했다. 그 당신 관련 연구자들은 이 약물이 모르핀보다 안전하고 중독성이 적을 것이라는 성급한 결론을 내렸다. 하지만 그것은 치명적인 오판이었다. 헤로인은 더 빠르게 뇌에 도달했고, 더 강한 쾌감과 의존성을 만들었다. 20세기 초가 되자 의사들과 연구자들은 헤로인의 위험성을 인식하기 시작했고, 미국은 1924년 Heroin Act를 통해 헤로인의 제조와 판매를 금지한다.
Natural은 Safe를 의미하지 않는다 흥미로운 점은 모르핀, 헤로인, 그리고 현대의 오피오이드 진통제들이 모두 자연에서 시작되었다는 사실이다. 양귀비는 아름다운 꽃이다. 어떤 사람은 꽃이 아름답다고 말하고, 어떤 사람은 향기가 좋다고 말한다. 하지만 그 아름다운 꽃은 동시에 인류 역사상 가장 강력한 진통제와 가장 심각한 약물 의존 문제를 만들어낸 출발점이다.
우리는 종종 "천연 성분"이라는 말을 들으면 안전하다고 생각하고 상업적으로 이용된다. 그러나 역사는 그렇지 않다고 말한다. 독버섯도 천연이고, 아편도 천연이다. Natural과 Safe는 결코 같은 의미가 아니다.
타이레놀에서 다시 시작된 질문 아마 그래서 합성의약품인 타이레놀이 더 흥미로운지도 모른다. 오늘날 수많은 부모들이 아이의 열을 내리기 위해 사용하는 비교적 안전한 약. 이 약은 안전하지만, 시럽을 물처럼 마시면 물론 안 된다. 간에 치명적인 해로움을 끼칠 수 있다. 100년 넘게 사용되어 왔지만 아직도 작용기전이 완전히 밝혀지지 않은 약 (아무래도 열을 낮춘다는 것 자체가 면역작용을 통제하고, 그 결과가 우회적으로 아픔을 통제할 것같다). 그리고 무엇보다 아편이나 모르핀과는 전혀 다른 길을 걸어온 진통제.
진통제의 역사를 돌아보면, 그것은 단순한 의학의 발전사가 아니다.
인간의 고통을 줄이려는 노력과 과학적 호기심, 때로는 성급한 결론, 그리고 상업적 이해관계가 끊임없이 교차하고 있는 역사이다.
타이레놀에서 시작된 오늘의 글은… 야산의 양귀비 꽃 (지금 이시대에는 야산에 양귀비 꽃은 없겠지만..)으로 이어졌다. 난 실재로 양귀비 꽃에 대해 초등학교 수업 때 들은 적은 있어도 본 적은 없다.
Sometimes I find myself wondering: if Tylenol had never existed, how would I have raised my children?
The fevers, the countless nights spent comforting a restless child who couldn’t sleep. Almost every parent has probably relied on Tylenol at some point.
We use Tylenol so routinely today that we rarely stop to think about it. But when did the history of pain relief actually begin?
The Long History of Tylenol
Many people think of Tylenol as a modern medicine, but its history is much longer than most realize.
In 1955, McNeil Laboratories introduced a children’s fever reducer under the brand name Tylenol. After Johnson & Johnson acquired the company in 1959, Tylenol became widely available across the United States and eventually grew into one of the most commonly used pain relievers and fever reducers in the world.
Acetaminophen itself, however, dates back much further. It was first synthesized in 1878 by the American🇺🇸 chemist Harmon Northrop Morse. By the 1890s, it was already being used to relieve pain and reduce fever. Yet at the time, medicine was dominated by a much more powerful substance. That substance was opium.
Opium: The Painkiller That Accompanied Human History
Opium is a natural pain reliever that humans have used for thousands of years.
Derived from the opium poppy, it possesses remarkable pain-relieving properties. The problem, however, is that its power to relieve pain is matched by its ability to create dependence.
In the early nineteenth century, a young German🇩🇪 chemical apprentice named Friedrich Sertürner succeeded in isolating the most potent active ingredient found in opium. He named the substance Morphine after Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams.
Like many early scientists, Sertürner experimented on himself. He administered the substance to his own body and later warned that it could be dangerous. Nevertheless, the medical community was captivated by morphine’s extraordinary ability to relieve pain.
When Merck began mass-producing morphine in 1827, it rapidly spread throughout medical practice around the world.
The Desire for a Stronger Drug
In 1853, the Scottish🏴 physician Alexander Wood believed that injecting morphine directly into the body would allow doctors to achieve the same effects with smaller doses. As a result, injectable morphine quickly gained popularity and The first victim of the injected morphine was Wood’s wife.
At the same time, physicians continued searching for a painkiller that was even more effective while being less addictive.
Out of that research came heroin, acetylated morphine.
In 1898, Bayer began marketing a chemically modified form of morphine under the name Heroin.
Early researchers hoped that this new drug would be safer and less addictive than morphine. It was a devastating miscalculation.
Heroin reached the brain more rapidly, produced stronger feelings of euphoria, and ultimately proved even more addictive. By the early twentieth century, doctors and researchers had begun recognizing its dangers. In 1924, the United States passed the Heroin Act, effectively banning the manufacture and sale of heroin.
Natural Does Not Mean Safe
One of the most interesting aspects of this story is that morphine, heroin, and modern opioid painkillers all originated from nature.
The poppy is a beautiful flower. Some people admire its appearance. Others appreciate its fragrance. Yet this beautiful flower also became the starting point for some of the most powerful pain-relieving drugs and some of the most devastating addiction problems in human history.
We often assume that something described as “natural” must also be safe. History tells a different story.
Poisonous mushrooms are natural. Opium is natural. Natural and safe are not the same thing.
A Question That Returns to Tylenol
Perhaps that is one reason why Tylenol, a synthetic drug, remains so fascinating.
It is the medicine countless parents use to bring down a child’s fever. Of course, while this medication is safe, you certainly must not drink the syrup as if it were water. Doing so could cause fatal harm to your liver.
It has been used for well over a century, yet its precise mechanism of action is still not completely understood. (It seems that lowering a fever essentially regulates the immune response, and that this, in turn, indirectly helps control the pain.)
Most importantly, it followed a path very different from that of opium or morphine🪜.
When we look back at the history of painkillers, we are looking at more than the history of medicine.
It is also the story of humanity’s effort to reduce suffering, a story shaped by scientific curiosity, occasional premature conclusions, and powerful commercial interests 🤑.
Today’s reflections began with Tylenol, but somehow led me all the way to the poppy flower 🌺.
Growing up, I heard about poppies in elementary school, but I have never actually seen one in person. Perhaps wild opium poppies once existed in fields and hillsides somewhere in Korea, but certainly not today.
I share a series of Wine Bits and Sips, written by Junghyun. We invite you to start your wine journey right here, with us as your friendly guide, Junghyun.
Before we dive into wine cellars, ratings, and the age-old debate whether an expensive bottle is truly worth its price, let me tell you why I got into wine in the first place.
The beauty of wine, I think, is this: without packing a bag or going anywhere, you can sit still and travel the world through all five senses. That’s the charm, and sometimes, honestly, it can also be the headache. Choosing a wine can feel like a multiple-choice question with answer options that spill onto the next page. You can’t always get it right. But that’s exactly why the moment you stumble upon something extraordinary feels so electrifying. One unexpected sip can make your eyes go wide in wonder. When a wine truly delights you, even the long hunting for that perfect bottle becomes a kind of play. The risk is, of course, that if you fail too many times in a row, the motivation to keep trying quietly fades away. Along with it, you lose the chance of ever finding that one wine that brings you genuine happiness. This is why, rather than picking at random, it helps to improve your odds a little bit.
That’s what this series is about.
Start with a Grape You Like
The usual advice is to begin your journey by finding a grape variety you enjoy.
Build a framework, something to anchor your choices so they’re easier to remember. In the New World, many wines are crafted from a single, well-known variety, which makes comparisons much easier. Mid-range American wines in particular tend to express their grape variety in a direct, straightforward way. Trying different bottles from the same producer, such as Long Barn or Textbook, across different varieties is a great way to map out your preferences. Textbook is best known for its reds and produces across a wide range, including Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, and Sauvignon Blanc, with Pinot Noir being a more recent addition to their lineup. Each grape brings its own skin thickness, natural sugars, and character, and you’ll taste these differences in the glass as distinct wine’s texture, tannins, acidity, and finishes. Once you discover a variety you love, you can begin expanding your horizons by seeking out the same grape from different countries. However, keep in mind that this is only one of many ways to explore the world of wine.
Collaborative Harmony of Grape, Terroir, and Tradition
Wine, they say, is a joint creation of the grape, the terroir, and the winemaker’s human hand. In France, it’s traditional not to list the grape variety on the label. Bordeaux-style blends are common, and the French tend to feel that variety alone doesn’t determine the wine’s soul. They see little reason to highlight it as the primary feature. During a Bordeaux winery tour years ago, where most of the guests were American. The winemaker poured a glass of deep, dark red wine and challenged us to guess the grape. Most guessed Cabernet Sauvignon or Syrah. The answer? 100% Merlot. These graphs came from vines nearly a hundred years old, rooted in the dry, stony soil of a hillside. While we were in Saint-Émilion on the Right Bank, an area where Merlot is the dominant variety and typically blended with small amounts of Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon, that tasting was a revelation. It was the exact moment the concept of terroir finally clicked for me, instantly and completely.
I came to wine with a strong conviction that France was its spiritual home of wine, so I started there, tasting my way across the regions one glass at a time. Unlike the New World, France places terroir at the center of everything. I fell for the rich, brooding tannins of Bordeaux reds: that dark tropical fruit, the weight, and a seductive, perfume-like quality that lingers like a single drop of fragrance. A wine with real complexity doesn’t just speak to your palate. It speaks to your imagination. I’d find myself picturing an elegant woman in a field of wildflowers or something bold, dynamic, almost physical. That’s Bordeaux red to me.
The Pope’s Wine and a New Obsession
Chataeuneuf du pape bottle
Then came Châteauneuf-du-Pape (CDP), often called the Pope’s wine, hailing from the southern Rhône valley. During the Avignon Papacy, Pope John XXII built a summer residence and a winery north of Avignon, giving the region its name, which translates to the “new castle of the Pope.” While history suggests that the wines of the Rhône still required refinement at the time, leading the Pope to reportedly ship in Burgundy until local quality improved. One of the most striking features of these bottles is the embossed papal coat of arms, featuring the tiara over the keys of Saint Peter, which sets them apart from everything else on the shelf. CDP is a blend led by Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre (GSM), along with other permitted varieties [the list has been revised from 13 down to 9 permitted varieties], which gives it a characteristic complexity. As a wine built for long aging, it possesses both power and elegance that never disappoints. Rich and full-bodied, yet more reasonably priced than Bordeaux or Burgundy, so it’s become my trusted bottle. It is a wine that feels particularly right from late autumn through the Christmas season, offering a warmth from the inside out. The only catch: it’s not exactly an everyday-priced bottle. Though when you see the vineyard, where every grape is hand-harvested and farmed organically, the price starts to feel entirely fair.
Southern Rhône Syrah: the Original Heritage
One afternoon at Lotte department store wine event, a staff recommendation led me to a Southern French Syrah.
Most people associate Syrah with Australia, but it originated in France’s south. Phylloxera (a kind of aphid) devastated the vineyards of the region in the 19th century, and the Syrah planted today is technically a reimported variety; however, something about this land remains unchanged. The combination of limestone and gravel soils, paired with the fierce Mistral wind, gives Southern French Syrah a character entirely unlike its Australian counterpart. I drank a 2012 vintage in 2023 and was struck by the kind of balance and depth that only a well-aged, high-quality wine can offer. That specific wine is no longer imported, but whenever I spot a Syrah from the neighboring Roussillon region, it goes straight into my basket. Roussillon was long known for cheap table wine, but with talented winemakers moving in, the quality has surged, and you now find genuinely excellent value there.
A Recommendation That Changed My Mind
When dining out, I often ask for a wine pairing recommendation, a habit that sometimes leads me to bottles I’d never have chosen for myself.
This is exactly what happened at a wine bar near my home. I typically did not reach for American wines, and when it comes to whites, I rarely stray beyond French Chardonnay, but this was wonderful, offering a rich, almost oily texture and ripe orange fruit, complemented by a touch of oak and just a whisper of mineral on the finish. It was quite simply delicious. Curious to see whether I could find a similar experience elsewhere, I tracked down a South African Chardonnay in the $20 range. South Africa occupies somewhere between the Old World and the New with a wine history that is much longer than most people realize. The Dutch East India Company planted vines there as early as 1662, producing the country’s first wine by 1669. By the 1880s, South Africa had become one of England’s premier wine suppliers until politics, natural disasters, and war pushed it into obscurity for decades. It was only under the presidency of Nelson Mandela that the wine industry began to rebuild. Today, South African winemakers draw from both traditions by studying Burgundian techniques while embracing the expressive, fruit-forward styles of the New World. The result is a collection of wines with a unique identity that often provide exceptional value.
Every new variety, region, and producer weaves together terroir, intention, and craftsmanship into a story that awakens all five senses. The world of wine is truly boundless.
This is how I travel the world, right from the glass on my dinner table.
Drawn by the warm sunlight, I stepped out into the yard and gently brushed aside the fallen persimmon leaves that had piled up since last autumn. As expected, beneath the leaves, pale green shoots and light purple flower buds were pushing their way up here and there. My heart, which had been shriveled during the long winter, filled with joy. I cleared away the leaves so the plants could receive more sunlight.
After Christmas and the year-end holidays pass, there are flowers that announce the arrival of spring first in my yard. It is the purple hyacinth. A long time ago, someone gifted me a pot of this plant. After enjoying its blooms, I planted the bulb under the persimmon tree. Since then, it has multiplied year after year, producing more flowers each spring. Like orchids, hyacinths grow green leaves on both sides, with a flower stalk rising from the center. Dozens of small blossoms cluster neatly along the stem, forming a single beautiful flower. Every morning, new stalks emerge, creating a feast of purple blooms, which is truly a breathtaking sight.
Looking up the meaning of the flower, I found that the hyacinth symbolizes “eternal love.” In Greek mythology, both Apollo, the sun god, and Zephyrus, the god of the west wind, fell in love with a young boy named Hyacinthus. The boy was exceptionally handsome, athletic, and even brave on the battlefield. Ultimately, Apollo and Hyacinthus became lovers.
One day, the two held a competition in a field to see who could throw a discus further. As Apollo caught a discus brilliantly thrown by Hyacinthus and hurled it high back toward him, Zephyrus – watching the scene in a fit of jealousy – blew a gust of wind. The wind caused the discus to strike the boy’s forehead, and he died. Clasping the boy in his arms, Apollo grieved. As he wept, he sprinkled the blood from the boy’s head onto the grass and promised to bring him back to life as a beautiful flower. Soon after, a flower bloomed from the blood-stained grass, and that flower is said to be the purple hyacinth.
Hyacinths carry different meanings depending on their color. Purple is eternal love and sorrowful love. Red is love that lingers in the heart. Yellow is courage and win in love. Blue is the joy of love. White is peaceful love. Pink is playfulness and charm. While these expressions may seem distinct, all these meanings seem to represent the many emotions we experience when we love someone.
After the hyacinths fade, wood sorrel (Oxalis, called love plant in Korea), though never planted, spreads across the flower bed. Could it be the lingering traces of a love that didn’t fully blossom?
Then, the persimmon tree, jujube tree, and roses bloom in turn, completing the full arrival of spring in the yard. Watching this scene, I feel as though my own heart is blooming along with the flowers.
When spring arrives, flowers, grass, and trees do their absolute best to sprout and bloom. In doing so, they capture people’s attention and receive their love. They don’t even require much: a drink of water every few days and a few grains of fertilizer whenever they come to mind. Often, I don’t give them any fertilizer at all throughout the year. Still, as if keeping a promise, they bring us joy every day with a different appearance each time spring returns. Shouldn’t we also repay someone for the joy and beauty that nature gives us? Shouldn’t we, like the flowers and trees in our garden, sprout and bloom for someone else? It isn’t that difficult. It can be as simple as giving a bright greeting like a flower, yielding your spot in the checkout line at the market to someone with fewer items, not comparing yourself to others, avoiding greed, and not looking down on those around you.
Just as blooming a flower doesn’t require any extraordinary nutrients, we too can achieve this with just a little bit of effort. We are living in the age of AI (Artificial Intelligence), but I don’t believe we should live by relying solely on computers instead of people. No matter how beautifully a computer creates a flower, it is not a “real” flower. No matter how well an AI robot is made, how could it ever be the same as a human? Even the most wicked person has tears, don’t they?
There are times when we must not simply rush forward. If there is a terrifying cliff ahead and you keep running, you might fall and meet with disaster. Looking at a world where AI dominates every field, I am reminded of the 18th-century French Enlightenment thinker Jean-Jacques Rousseau. He argued that the excessive development of civilization, science, and art makes humans dangerous, corrupts them, and causes inequality. This is a theory worth reflecting on once again. For seniors like us, who must gradually slow down, the arrival of an era driven by artificial intelligence feels somewhat worrying.
I believe Rousseau’s famous words, “Return to Nature,” serve as a warning to us. It is a cry to recover the inherent purity, autonomy, and moral intuition of humanity. I fear that “evil robots” might emerge and harm mankind. We humans have a duty to protect this Earth. God gave us this “Garden of Eden” called Earth in the vast universe. Just as every flower has its own unique characteristics, we humans must also exercise our individuality and traits to create a beautiful paradise.
A few days ago, my husband and I attended the funeral of someone we barely knew, the wife of a friend of my husband’s.
I had met her only once before, more than ten years ago, at her father’s funeral. She was the eldest daughter-in-law. After the service, several of my husband’s classmates gathered with their spouses, but she did not greet us. Instead, she stood apart, speaking eagerly with someone else. None of us got over to greet her as well. It was unusual, and I’ve remembered it ever since.
I hoped to tell my husband to go by himself, but the funeral hall was some distance away from us, and my husband was not young, and we decided to attend together since the bereaved husband had personally sent the notice, and we felt it was right to go.
At the entrance to the funeral hall, we met the deceased’s husband. He looked worn and solemn, dressed in a white mourning suit. We exchanged greetings quietly, offered our condolences, and took a seat inside where the casket was placed.
The portrait of the deceased—gentle and faintly smiling—was displayed on either side of the altar. That image was completely different from how I vaguely remembered her. She appeared warmer and more serene than I remembered. We met two of my husband’s classmates and sat together with the classmate who had come alone.
The service began under the guidance of the deceased’s nephew, a pastor. Prayers were offered and hymns were sung, following the order of service, and three of her four children shared brief memories of their mother. Only the youngest son spoke at length, sharing about his mother and her faith.
Next came the tributes from friends, many of whom were medical doctors like her husband. One man, visibly unwell, spoke while remaining seated. In a steady but solemn voice, he said, “None of us came here today for the deceased or for her family. We came for ourselves. No matter how faithfully one attends church, unless one is born again, one cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” He quoted John 3, the words of Jesus to Nicodemus about spiritual rebirth. It was continued. Someday, the deceased came and asked, “Were you reborn? While he just does and lives good habits with his mother’s religion. First her question startled him, and he even felt offended and uncomfortable, but the remark of the deceased allowed him to look back and experience the rebirth and still live with the rebirthed religious faith. Soon, the atmosphere became solemn as everyone reflected on themselves.
Next it was the deceased’s husband’s turn. He spoke of how they met—how she had come to America and devoted herself to raising their four children and supporting him. His voice trembled as he recalled those early years.
Fresh out of medical school, he was drafted and assigned a pressure sore patient, but he had never had any operation before. He continued that, unable to decline in front of his subordinates, he mustered the courage to proceed with the surgery, and thanks to the use of U.S.-made (Mijae), Mycin, the patient fortunately made a full recovery. At that time, the corpse used U.S.-made medication. The word “Mijae” caused a burst of laughter. When we were young, the U.S. products were the best. The word that he succeeded in treating that patient spread widely, and even the community school’s principal visited, and that’s how he eventually met his wife. Standing before her, he reminisced about their youthful days. A quiet ripple of warmth moved through the room.
He planned to tell five grateful memories about her, but due to time constraints, he only shared three. How could it be only three? Even the fact that, in her youth, she declined a position as a KBS announcer and chose instead to serve as an announcer for Far East Broadcasting in Korea was itself a testament to the death of her faith.
When he spoke about his wife, he said that memories came flooding out one after another, like sweet potato stems trailing in a row, and once again the funeral hall erupted in laughter. It was a heartwarming funeral.
The deceased, who passed away at the age of 85, wore the same serene smile from the very beginning, as if satisfied, displayed on both the upper corners of the frontal portrait. As the service drew to a close, the daughters continued to weep with the unmistakable grief of forever bidding farewell to their mother.
The words of Ecclesiastes 7:1-4 came to mind: A good name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death better than the day of birth. It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart. Frustration is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure.
Most of those present were Christians, yet beyond doctrine, there was a shared understanding, an awareness that life does not end here, and that one must prepare for what lies beyond.
The essential truth is that before death, no one is exempt. On this autumn day, with the sky so high, I felt I had glimpsed an answer to how I ought to live the remaining time of my life. All the way home, the hymn sung by the deceased’s sister and family, There, in that place, with the Lord, we shall live forever echoed in my ears.
When my most recent biotech workplace shut down, I found myself at a crossroads. I still had the energy to dream of building a biotech startup, but after watching two companies I worked for shut down, I couldn’t even convince myself it would succeed.
So, instead, I took a different path. I enrolled in a free nursing course, a CNA program near my home, because I wanted to learn how I could continue helping others. That choice took me back in time to 1997–1998, when I worked with my college seniors in the psychology therapy club Torch Band and visited juvenile detention centers and psychiatric hospitals. Later, in 2008, I also learned about sandplay therapy. Those memories resurfaced as I began my new journey in nursing. After receiving my CNA certification, I worked at a nearby memory center while also preparing for pre-nursing courses. Since my previous college studies hadn’t included all the required U.S. nursing prerequisites. For example, I had taken animal physiology but not human physiology, so I needed to fill such gaps. At the memory care where I worked for a while, I noticed that quite a few seniors struggling with memory loss also had glaucoma. I can’t say that’s scientifically proven. I just noticed that some studies failed to show significant statistics on the connection. Someday, if I have the time, I’d love to dig into Korea’s public medical insurance datasets and explore the common mechanisms behind these conditions in more detail. What made me truly happy was seeing positive changes in the seniors with memory problems I cared for.
Maybe my interest in nursing was also influenced by my first daughter. In high school, she joined a medical club, and before college, she even took part in a high school internship program at Scripps Hospital. Later, even after choosing computer science as her major at UC Davis, she pursued EMT training. But in the summer of 2025, both of us stepped away. I quit my role as a care manager, and she stopped EMT training. That early summer, she was struck by a virus and diagnosed with meningitis. For nearly a month, her life was at risk, and I stayed by her side, helping her fight to survive. It brought back memories of my own hospitalization, when I spent a month with a high fever and no diagnosis. I still remember that near-death moment. Even in that split second, the experience remains etched vividly in my mind.
Even now, I still want to learn more about clinical care, but at the age of 50, it feels too late, less enjoyable, and not quite aligned with my current situation. While taking some pre-nursing courses, I also began exploring computer-related courses online and still hope to keep learning new things. My dream of starting a biotech company inspired me to explore publishing ventures, try self-publishing, and eventually start a nonprofit with my younger daughter. She is actually the founder and guiding force behind the BunnyPals Foundation. BunnyPals started as a small club for kids who had bunnies, but now it has grown to include writing and craft clubs, as well as Korean language learning. I hope to help children nurture creativity, compassion, and environmental awareness through artistic expression, storytelling, and community engagement. I also dream of helping them become authors of their own creative works.
Part of me still dreams of returning to research or building a research-focused nonprofit or startup. I wait for that dream.
Looking back, my life has been a journey of choices. Some I treasure, some I wonder about. For example, I once had the chance to pursue medical school or clinical psychology, but I didn’t. Do I regret it a little? Yes. But deep down, I know that even if I could go back, I might still choose this same path.
As an undergraduate in Korea, I never knew clinicians could also be researchers. I simply wanted to discover something new and contribute to patients’ well-being as a scientist. Also, I know if I chose a different path, I would have never researched. Now, though, I believe that for most people, education and lifestyle changes should come before medication.
To my juniors, including my daughters, I hope you’ll always find the resources you need for your career paths and that you’ll follow not just ambition but also your heart. May you always be wise enough to find balance between life, work, and money.
Life and Biology stories with Sooyoung and Others 