The Evolution of Success

My mom and her parents moved to New York City from Taiwan early in her life, and she learned English from Bugs Bunny and left her Chinese vocabulary at the level of a preschooler. She speaks with her mom—my waipo, which in mandarin means grandmother—frequently in Chinese, her tone of voice changing to a more high-pitched, babyish one than the one she speaks with in English. My mom’s parents divorced at some point, and both remarried other people, but I rarely see my waigong’s, or grandfather’s, family, even though my mom lived with her father growing up; her father, who did not pay attention and would feed her whatever there was to eat (at one point, they had to use food stamps, and she has told me stories of sardine-smoothies); her father, who did not pay attention and as soon as my mom went to college her younger brother was hit by a truck and permanently disabled.

My dad grew up in upstate New York as the eldest of three kids. They ate meals on a weekly schedule: spaghetti every Monday, chicken every Tuesday, etc, first-come-first-serve so you had to eat fast or you’d go hungry. My grandpa worked hard at what he did to earn as much as he could during his lifetime for his family, and was well respected even after his death. My grandma is insecure but outspoken, lonely now and fearful of silence so she creates conversations whenever there is anyone who will listen.

Both my parents strove for the best education they could to get a wealthier life for their children than they had growing up. They met during college at a pumpkin carving contest where they were partnered up and won “Most Traditional”, my dad’s design. On their first date my dad took my mom to a surprisingly fancy restaurant, only to realize when they got there that he had forgotten his wallet. My mom complains to this day about how she should have known right off the bat not to marry him. But my dad was safe. He grew up in a close family where everyone cared deeply for one another, his parents loosening the reins when need be, but never loosening so much that accidents occurred. So despite their differences and their arguments and my dad’s forgetfulness, they got married and had three kids.

My parents made the decision to move to Washington State to follow my dad’s job offer at Microsoft, hoping to raise their three kids in a nicer, smoother environment than they’d had. It separated us from our extended family in New Jersey and New York, who we only got to see maybe a few times a year after that. But it was an educated decision my parents made. My extended family is small, but culturally separate; my parents’ childhoods contrasted greatly from each other, and my brothers and I had an even more different childhood, one which both my parents strove to make happen as best they could. And now my parents are living alone together, waiting for their children (who they cared for too much and sometimes didn’t loosen the reins on enough, but other times spoiled silly) to come visit.