Dr. Pong S. Lee, beloved husband of Eunice O. Lee, died Tuesday, February 3, 2009 after a long illness. He was 80 years old. He came to the United States to attend and graduate from Simpson College in Iowa. He received his Ph.D. from Yale University in 1965, before beginning his career as Professor of Economics at S.U.N.Y. Albany. He came to the Capital District to pursue his love of skiing and teaching. He was a scholar and professor until his retirement in 1995. He continued to be an avid skier and golfer throughout his lifetime. He was a devoted husband and father. However his greatest joy was spending as much time with his cherished grandchildren as possible. Survivors include his beloved wife: Eunice O. Lee, his loving children Ernest (Elaine) Lee of Niskayuna, and Amy (Jeff) Kuo of Rocklin, CA his cherished grandchildren Alexander J. Lee, Jessica Y. Lee, Megan L. Kuo, Erin L. Kuo and Justin J. Kuo. He was the brother of Soon Seong Lee of NJ and Nam Soo Lee of CA.

I first met Pong Suk Lee, known simply as Pong to his American friends, in upstate New York in the mid-1960s. He was a freshly minted Ph.D. and I yet a wannabe. He was an audiophile talking knowledgeably about the McIntosh stereo, while I was content with a couple of Harry Belafonte's calypso records played on a portable player (which in those days was a big deal, I thought). He was an avid skier; rumor had it then that skiing added extra years to his completing the dissertation. Soon after I got my sheepskin, we decided to write a paper together. It was to be our first publication. To publish seemed rather easy at the time, not knowing that it was only the beginners' luck. [Things got harder and harder. Had the first time been as difficult as in later years, I don't know about him but at least I would probably have told myself that I ain't good enough. Those were the days when we had no role models. How were we to know what was and was not within our reach?!] His professional interest, intellectual curiosity and desire to help the less fortunate have taken him to China several times and for long durations (and also to other parts of the world that I didn't get to hear much about because he was out of the country so much). After I boasted about my four extended tours to China, I felt silly, without his intending (of course), by the depth of his knowledge about China, its people and their language. It was during these years when he lived in China that I, having had a role in the nomination of officers, tried to get him involved in the KAEA (Korean-American Economic Association) affairs. Only if we had the email then, he would have been more deeply drawn in. During his illness, we had frequent phone conversations and a lot more email exchanges. Invariably, he was in excellent spirit, assuring of others' concerns, and cracking jokes as if nothing was happening. I remember the first time he told me of his terminal illness. Before I could think of some comforting words, he said, unfailingly caring of others: "it is nothing compared to what Hank has been going through," referring to our common friend who is afflicted with debilitating illness. He didn't talk about death or dying, at least in the context of his own. The only time he mentioned it, it was as "kicking the bucket." He was not in denial; it was not giving up one's hope and trying one's best, the same way he lived his entire life. His was a life of caring and loving for others; of teaching how to think in lectures and how to live by examples; being spiritual and metaphysical without being religious; and unassuming and self-effacing in relating to others. The life he lived and shared with us would live on in the memory of those of us who were fortunate to have known him. Yes, yes, we all know: We are all born to die. . . He did live past 80 years of age. But as an English proverb says, "Death always comes either too early or too late." In his case, let it be said, it is definitely the former. If my memory serves, it was you who emailed me a long time ago the following: "When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling. Live your life so that when you die, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying" (by 'anonymous' - the favorite writer for both of us). Bravo, you did so live your life! Smile! We weep in celebration of your life lived so fully and so well. Young Chin Kim Professor emeritus, Northern Illinois University February 5, 2009

Pong S. Lee Pong belonged to the first generation Korean students who came to the USA during or soon after the Korean War - on a ship. He said how felt 'This is AMERICA!' when the ship was entering the San Francisco Bay and he saw shining cars moving across the Golden Gate bridge under the afternoon sun. His generation had to redo their undergraduate studies and they had to work their ways through them - often working at jobs other people would not take. Pong must have performed brilliantly at Simpson College in Iowa to enter the Yale Ph.D. program. When he became a chair, he told all non-tenured professors that their contracts would not be renewed. This of course created much bitterness among them. Some senior members darkly predicted impending doom his new policy was going to bring but they went along. He managed to persuade or at least wear down the opposition with unlimited patience. With the lines thus vacated, he recruited to lay the foundation of the SUNY-Albany Economics Department. He worked with scant staff support and without much official recognition for his achievements. Pong had a special linguistic talent. In addition to being fluent in English, Japanese and Korean, he embarked on learning Chinese in his late fifties and made a considerable progress. He (forcibly) practiced his Chinese on the Economics Chinese students at a school cafeteria. When he was younger, Pong was a most formidable debater. He would quickly assess a situation and then offer a clear analysis of the problem at hand. He had one critical fault as a debater, though. Once he took a position on any issue, he would defend it at all costs. Pong had a pure, young and almost childlike heart. He was informal, unassuming. He beat all of us younger generation in tennis without taking any special lessons in it. His passion, other than his work, was his family and then skiing. In retirement, he doted on his children and grandchildren who - to his good fortune - returned his love. All in all, I think he was satisfied how his life turned out through many difficulties he and his contemporaries had to face. Kwan Koo Yun Professor of Economics SUNY at Albany

We pray for your comfort We pray for your peace. May God know how To keep you in comfort and peace. The respect and love we have for you Is deeper than you can imagine. You were our strength, you were our supporter. You were our colleague. Please rest. And know that we will always love and respect you.