Oh, When the Families Come Marching In

[This article was originally published in Medium on November 16, 2018.]  

□  A heartwarming story to prepare the readers for the holiday season — and the throng of families that it brings.  □ 

The weather has cooled down considerably in North Texas where I live, and I can see a hint of fall foliage. In a week’s time it will be Thanksgiving Day, and with that comes a throng of families: close and not-so-close relatives, some with in-laws in tow.

The reality is, though, my wife Lili and I won’t be that fortunate. As first-generation immigrants, we live halfway around the world from our immediate families. With the one exception of my wife’s brother Joseph, who lives just 12 miles away, all of our parents and siblings live in Indonesia; so, needless to say, they won’t be joining us for Thanksgiving.

[Contrary to what some people believe, not all extended families of immigrants want to move to the US. I once asked my father if he wanted me to sponsor him to immigrate to the US. He told me, “No, don’t waste your money. In Indonesia I am somebody. In the US I am a nobody.” Similarly, my sisters have also established lives in Indonesia, and they are completely content with living over there.]

For first-generation immigrants like us, Thanksgiving is typically celebrated with just our own children and occasionally some good friends. There is no trip over the river and through the woods to Grandma’s house, and no aunt and uncle to visit. (Well, at the very least, my kids were lucky to have Uncle Joseph!) Even more so, as our children become more independent and move away, we face the reality that even they may not come home for Thanksgiving.

For once in our lives, though, we did experience a Thanksgiving-like family “invasion” this past summer. My son Martin got married on July 7, and for this special occasion, my parents, my two sisters and their grown-up kids (and kids-in-law), one of Lili’s sister, and her father all made the long trek to Texas. All in all, there would be 19 people staying at our house for almost two weeks. As the time drew near, my mind was going crazy. Who is going to sleep in which room? Will the three bathrooms in the house be enough? How are we going to transport all of them around? And what if the “ancient” AC in our house breaks down while they are here? (The temperature reached above 100 F in that early July!)

We picked up the big contingent from Indonesia at DFW airport in the evening on Tuesday, July 3. It was a chaotic event consisting of collecting countless amounts of luggage and people, and then organizing them (luggage and people) into just three vehicles. Yet later that night, as I watched 18 hungry people cramp in our small kitchen, all my worries just melted away. I couldn’t stop smiling — but who could, with so much love around? I knew right there and then that things would be okay.

Over the next five days things, as expected, were crazy. There were never-ending trips to the outlet mall, endless cooking, dishwashing and laundry, overflowing trash bins, guests constantly stopping by, the struggle of making transportation arrangements to and from the wedding venue, and not enough sleep. Then, after the wedding came the big family trip: 23 people from three generations (19 to 82 years old) in two 15-passenger vans going through Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park! Needless to say, things got even crazier. There were missed turns, wrong flight booked, debates on where and when to eat, fights for the bathrooms, a constant struggle to get any sort of WiFi signal, and of course, restroom stop after restroom stop.

Or … maybe there weren’t. To be honest, I can barely remember all the chaos now, but I can vividly remember the fun and the love: all the hugs, the laughter, the jokes, the kindness, and the food sharing. Watching the magnificent Milky Way spread above our KOA cabins with my nephews and brother-in-law. Hiking along the tranquil String Lake with my own family as well as my sisters’ and my cousin’s families. Sitting with my parents and my father-in-law in the quaint and glitzy Jackson, WY, town square. And driving along the picturesque US Highway 89, prompting my father to sing “Home on the Range.” I read somewhere that love hides imperfections, and in those two weeks in July I experienced firsthand how true those words are.

And so, for all of you who are fortunate enough to have families march into your house this time of the year: savor every moment, and have a wonderful holiday season full of love!