By Lee Chang-kook
Professor Emeritus of Chung-Ang University
This morning, to my mild surprise, I realized that I have not read ``Reader's Digest" for quite a long time. Hurriedly, I checked the pile of old issues in the corner of my study and discovered that I have not received a copy in more than six months. I was puzzled at first, but soon realized that my annual subscription expired last May and I had not renewed it.
For a moment I felt angry at this unexpected turn of events. I could neither believe nor accept this fact easily. How could I have not read Reader's Digest for more than six months and not notice it? How could I neglect or forget to renew the subscription? Am I no longer a reader of Reader's Digest? Impossible.
As I habitually do when a bad thing happens to me, I tried to blame someone else. I thought of the lady in the office in charge of the distribution of the magazine in Seoul. She used to call without fail to remind me of the expiration of my subscription, usually a few months ahead of time, and pushed me to extend it. She did not call me this time for unknown reasons. Surely she was to blame.
But no. She was not. It was I who was surely to blame. That had I lived in complete ignorance of this grave accident for so long was the undeniable evidence. Once, it was impossible for me to miss even one issue of the magazine. It was a disaster, an apocalypse, the end of the world. If such a case had ever occurred (and it had, several times during my long subscription), I surely would have called the lady in the office in less than no time, and complained with an angry voice about the calamity and demanded immediate re-delivery of the missing edition for that month, as if I could not live the rest of the month without it.
Actually I could not live without it. More than anything else, how could I have lived a month, as a diligent student of English, without testing my English vocabulary in its ``Word Power" section? I took the magazine's private exam every month. In this monthly test I was mostly graded as ``Fair"(C), sometimes ``Good"(B), and rarely ``Excellent"(A). Quite naturally I was dejected when I received a "C" and hopeful with a "B," but on the rare occasions I earned an "A" I felt immensely happy, proud and secure for the rest of the month.
After this vocabulary test my eyes wandered freely to the many other gems in that edition ― humorous as well as useful section: ``Laughter Is the Best Medicine," ``Life Is Like That," ``All Things in Life" ``As Kids See It," ``Quotable Quotes," etc. And then to the cartoons: funny, satiric, and even intellectual cartoons interspersed here and there throughout the magazine like twinkling stars in the night sky.
This world famous and unique magazine provided me with everything I needed to improve and polish my English: new and difficult words, various idioms, usages, phrases, and sentences, terse but exemplary paragraphs, and the interesting, useful and moving anecdotes, stories and fine essays accompanied by beautiful and apt illustrations and photographs ― all condensed in a pretty and handy-sized book.
During my long career as a professor of English I used it as a textbook for my ``English Reading" course with great success and pleasure for myself as well as for my students. I liked it and they liked it. Often, if I meet with old students of mine on the street, they recall with fondness the experience of reading it in the classroom with me. Some said that they have even become permanent readers of the magazine.
Like so many important and precious things in my life, I don't remember how it first came into my life. It was so long ago. At first, as far as I remember, it was the Korean version of the magazine translated from English. The English edition came into my hands later, most probably after I entered university. What is clear is it has been with me for such a long period of time that it has become a lifelong friend of mine.
What makes me really sad and regretful now, however, is not the fact of having been deprived of my right as a faithful reader of the magazine against my will. It is my mild and tepid attitude and reaction to the unjust, inconceivable and unimaginable situation into which I have fallen. Two months have passed already since I discovered my grave mistake and loss, but I have not taken any prompt and proper action to repair the loss, nor have I taken any immediate steps forward to right the wrong done to me. I did not call anybody in the office to let them know of this emergency, nor did protest or even ask anybody about the missing magazine. I just let the case rest where it is.
To be frank with you, I knew this was coming. To be more honest with you, I allowed this to happen. I wished the lady in the office would not call me anymore. Her engaging voice, once so enthralling, has ceased to be a wake-up call to the brave new world of diligence, pleasure, knowledge, adventure and success. Instead, it has become more of a solicitation, nuisance, and duty. I don't remember when exactly it began, but I know that my youthful appetite for the magazine has been steadily shrinking. In fact, I have been seriously thinking of parting company with one of the dear things in my life.
I think the time has come for me to bid adieu to Reader's Digest. I am old, and I must admit that my passion for the magazine has inevitably waned, and I cannot rekindle my interest in the magazine any more. The pile of old issues does not look as beautiful as it used to do. It is no longer the source and storage of knowledge, pleasure and inspiration. I feel I would be happier without the burden of reading it every month from now on. Enthusiasm, the very stuff that youth is made of, has left me. Nothing can revive it. Enthusiasm is all.