He cooked for Japanese invader who dominating the village and demand labors. when i, the 3rd son of his, was young and asked about his impression on Japanese invader, he told me they quite respect him. later he worked as a worker in nearby town's cement factory, but in a accidence his foot hurt by a explode to tear apart stone. so he returned to the village where he grows. when he worked for the village forest station, that period is my most cherished memory about him, my grand dad. i forever thanks to those silence in the bushes and trees, those cold and sweet stream, those songs of birds and bees. i know that's my heaven, where he governs.