New Family Traditions
I grew up in a small town in New Hampshire with a population of <20,000. Deer and bears were common visitors in our neighborhood. You could describe it as quaint, rural, or even, middle of nowhere. To me, it’s my childhood home.
Living in such an out-of-the-way place was a struggle for a family of Chinese immigrants. I was one of two Asians in my high school graduating class and the closest representation of Chinese culture in town was one all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
At home, we maintained Chinese traditions as best we could. We spoke Chinese, celebrated Chinese holidays, and most importantly ate Chinese food. My parents always cooked their favorite dishes from home – dumplings, noodles, duck, etc.
But even this was a challenge. There was one tiny Asian market within 30 minutes of us, not nearly big enough to get everything we needed. So, a few times a month, my parents would make the 1.5-hour drive to Boston to visit the markets and restaurants in Chinatown. It was there I learned that we weren’t alone in America. My parents said my first words during our first visit to Chinatown were “Wow, we’re back in China”.
These trips to Chinatown are some of my clearest memories from childhood. I remember my excitement when hearing Saturday morning that we would be “going to Boston”. Every part of the drive is etched into my memory – down I-95, over the Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge, past the TD Garden (FleetCenter back then) and Chinatown gates, and into the grocery store parking lot. After shopping, we always ate lunch at one of the Asian restaurants before making the trek back home to enjoy a home-cooked dinner from that day’s adventure. My parents and I repeated this routine the entire 15 years I lived in New Hampshire. A lot changed in those years but the trips to Boston were constant.
Last weekend, I found myself repeating this same tradition with my own family. Tiffany and I took Julian out for a day in Flushing for groceries and lunch. While feeding Julian my favorite childhood food court dish at lunch – chicken teriyaki (the one made on the teppanyaki grills in front of you), I reflected on how funny it is for life to echo like this. I always figured I’d be a very different parent than my parents. My upbringing in the U.S. is vastly different than theirs in Mao’s China. We are very different people. But here I was, doing the same thing as them, taking my family out on Saturday for groceries, lunch, and making them dinner at night. It felt both unpredictable and inevitable at the same time.
But as Mark Twain once said: “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes”.
Earlier that morning, Julian and I did something my parents and I never did. We participated in a race in Queens organized by Fast Feet for ~30 local athletes. We ran 1 mile (#strollerdad) alongside the athletes and cheered them on with their families as they crossed the finish line and received their medals. It was an incredible way to start the weekend. I hope to share more moments like these with Julian and Serena as they grow up and teach them the importance of giving back.
Charity was not a huge part of my childhood. There were occasional events I participated in through school or church, but it wasn’t one of the things that my family prioritized. I think partly because we didn’t have very much to give. Everything my parents earned went into food, education, and making ends meet. We lived a simple life. We always had food on the table (my old pictures prove that I NEVER missed a meal), new clothes (Marshalls FTW), vacations, etc. But I knew it was hard for my parents and I feel that even more now as a parent trying to make ends meet myself.
Even though we weren’t taking part in charity events on weekends, my parents were teaching me how to give in their own way. It wasn’t to non-profits, they were giving to me. I only have the life I have today because of the sacrifices they made for me back then (thanks Mom and Dad).
Giving is not a skill that I have developed very much in my life so far. As a male only child, I am naturally VERY selfish. But after getting married and having kids, I started to realize there are other people in the world except me, that true fulfillment and joy come not from bettering your own station in life but helping others (of course you need to take care of yourself first before you can help others!).
Like any skill, giving is one that you can work on and get better at. It doesn’t have to be money, it can be your time and energy. It doesn’t have to be big, it can be as simple as listening to someone’s trouble to show that you care. A simple act of kindness goes a long way. It’s something I want to work on during this next chapter of my life as a dad and start some new traditions with my family along the way!
Seneca once said: “Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness”.
There are opportunities to be kind and give everywhere you go – buy a homeless person a meal, help someone who needs direction, or donate to a friend’s fundraiser 😊. Keep an eye out and make the world a little bit better today because of you.