Finding My Family

Studying Fine Arts in Canada made me aware of the significance and inevitability of culture and history. I was born in a multicultural country that prescribed no distinct ethnicity, and with virtually no knowledge of my own lineage, I felt a desperate need to resist the pervasive T.V. and hamburger heritage that seemed the only option. As an artist, I found myself in a sort of stylistic vacuum, selecting my modes of creation from a history that did not feel like my own. While it gave me freedom for experimentation and discovery, it left little meaning apart from the personal or arbitrary. As a result, I resolved to learn more about my family, which in time became an exploration of my county, self and art.

In addition to my cultural identity crisis, I was burdened, as many young Canadians, by unmanageable student debts. I had to find a way to solve this problem. I decided to go to South Korea and teach English. On the way, I stopped to visit my grandfather (Frank Macri) in Windsor Ontario. The last time I saw him was thirty years ago; I was four years old. When I arrived in Windsor, I was surprised to find an extended family that included aunts, uncles and cousins that I never knew existed. It was highly rewarding and informative in more ways than I had hoped. Of course the time was too short, as I had to get on a plane and travel several thousand miles, into a culture where I did not speak the language or know any of the customs. In truth, I knew almost nothing about Korea. One thing I did know was that my great uncle was waiting for me there.

Back in my hometown Winnipeg, Manitoba, my uncle George “Gary” Alfred Hansen, also strove to discover his roots. He was researching the family history from the Hansen (my mother’s) side. When I left for Korea he told me about my great uncle who was buried in Busan. Private Alfred Earnest Roy Hansen was killed on February 25th, 1951 while trying to advance with his unit (Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry) to repel the invaders out of South Korea. I was told Alfred always looked up to his older brothers who served in WWII and my grandfather who was a police officer. Alfred felt his family had sacrificed a great deal to serve their country and to defend the oppressed. He was compelled to do the same. So when the Korean conflict began, he enlisted. The memories of war and its horrific events were still very fresh in the minds of many people then, so when an invading dictatorship entered South Korea it was seen as the only right thing to do.

Gary found my great aunt Clara, Alfred’s sister, to be an excellent source of information. She was very close to Alfred, being near in age. She remained in their birthplace, Spearhill, Manitoba, when many of the older siblings had gone on to the “big city” of Winnipeg. She was able to relay humorous anecdotes, like how Alfred would catch garter snakes to scare his sister Edith or anyone who did not know how harmless they were. Later, Alfred moved to Winnipeg to live with my grandfather, George. Clara would visit and help cook and clean for the hapless young bachelors. They came from a big family and were used to supporting each other in any way they could. Their upbringing instilled compassion and strong moral values. They cared for family, friends, neighbors and even strangers. It was this system of ideals that led Alfred to volunteer to help a country and a cause half a world away, for a people he had never met. Gary told me that after speaking with Alfred’s brothers and sisters, it was clear, that even decades later he was deeply missed. Despite their loss, all spoke proudly of his sacrifice and service in Korea and to his country.

I promised to visit the Busan United Nations Memorial Cemetery and lay flowers at Alfred’s grave. I would be the first from our family (the Hansens) to have the opportunity to do so. After a few months in Korea I was pleasantly surprised to find my newly discovered cousin Kimberly (from the Macri family) would also be coming to the land of the morning calm. We met in Busan, and with the help of some mutual Korean friends, we found our way to the UN cemetery. It was only then that the scale of this event became evident. The conflict had a profound impact on the history of Korea, as well as thousands of families around the world, including my own.

The beautiful grounds were pristine and picturesque with flowers and sculptures and architecture befitting the sentiment of solemn pride. Following a narrow path, we found Alfred’s grave directly adjacent to the base of a Canadian flag. It gave me a strange patriotic comfort that he was the closest to it. I recognized the flag as a symbol of home. It was as if the immediate area, where my great uncle laid, was a tiny piece of Canada.

When I knelt down to look at the plaque that marked his resting place, I was shocked to see his age was merely twenty-three years old. Being my grandfather’s brother, I mistakenly expected him to be an old man. Scanning some of the nearby headstones I realized most of the soldiers were younger than I, some being only eighteen. I felt a flood of emotions and thoughts of my family enter my mind. I thought of my own privileged upbringing, my grandmother, and how she taught our family the relationship between love and duty. I envisioned her son, my uncle Gary, who is a police officer in Canada. He carries not only the names of Alfred and my grandfather (George), but the moral principals that lead him to contribute to society as they did. I thought of my wonderful friends and the children I teach here in Korea and realized that without the sacrifice of Alfred and countless others, I would likely not have had the honor to meet them. The lesson to be gleaned from this inspiring experience was clear. Even thousands of miles away, I felt connected, at home, feeling the soundness of the morals Alfred was taught, and knew that they lived on in subsequent generations.

In response, I have created a portrait as a tribute to Alfred’s contribution to the Korean War, our family, and my quest for understanding who I am and where I come from. At the very least, I have learned that we are all, in some measure, the sum of our actions, and that the past can inform us, as to what our actions may mean to the future.


David Frank Macri