क्या हुआ??

So it’s Sunday morning and we’re bustling around with breakfast and all. Mom asks what I want to eat, and this conversation ensues.

Me: Can I have some toast with egg in the middle?

Mataji: Sure [to my dad] Dave do y..

Pitaji: I’M WATCHING MY SHOW, YOU MAKE IT.

Mataji: Oh okay [pause] Dave? Do you toast the bread before you put it in the pan?

Pitaji: I’LL MAKE IT, I’LL MAKE IT. FINE.

Mataji: [whispers to me] see what I did there? I just played dumb *giggle*

You may have had to be there, but trust me, it was a beautifully executed plan. I laughed.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about where I come from. Maybe it stems from having so many friends who were immigrants to this country. It’s so easy to just think, “Well, I’m in America, my parents were born here…whatever” and then not look at the reasons why.

Yeah, some of my family has been here for a few hundred years, and they all were caucasian people from Europe, but the more research I do and the more I hear their stories…the more I feel connected to my past. My great grandma, Hulda Larson, was 100% Swedish. She was born in the US, but her parents both came from Sweden. Unfortunately, they died when she was a teenager, so she ended up supporting herself and her siblings for a long time. I have relatives who went from Ireland to Canada either because they were given land by the UK in an effort to populate the country, or because they were trying to escape Catholic oppression. It might even be a combination of both.

After reading about the patterns of migration and how exactly they apply to my own family, I see that I am the product of a myriad of dreams and goals…some achieved, some thrown by the wayside. There’s my dad’s dad who moved west from Iowa with a muletrain to escape his abusive father and find a better life. Stole my grandma from her fiance in Kansas, helped to build a still-existing dam in Yuma, Arizona and ended up in California. There’s my mom’s family, with people who were always too intelligent for their surroundings but at the same time became cursed with a love for the bottle. There’s a long, long line of doctors with short short tempers. For most of my life I’ve felt a separation from these people. I never really felt any sort of familial connection until I looked closer. I realized that I have my dad’s grandma’s facial structure, and my mom’s mom’s attention loving attitude. I’ve come to realize how connected I am to all these people.

In a way, I come from a line of orphans; both technical and emotional. Children who could never rely on their parents for the things that parents should provide. The stability and trust wasn’t there for many of the people I’m related to. I’m sure this has shaped the way my parents grew up and the way that they raised me. Perhaps that’s where the independence comes from…or alternatively, the distrust. Either way, I find it important to remember that it is possible to acknowledge shared attributes while at the same time trying to avoid making the same mistakes that my predecessors have made for generations.