Isn’t it pretty to think . . that blood always ran thicker than water?
As someone who really enjoys the outdoors,
all this snow isn’t as fun anymore. While I haven't really been cooped up inside at all... even the thought of being forced to stay inside today because of the wind, heavy, snow, and lack of plowing is making me go nuts. I figured, maybe I should try to think happier snow thoughts to fight off
cabin fever.
. . Like that REACH! Retreat to Tahoe.
. . Or that snowboarding trip with my sister, Scott, and Ralph.
Okay, maybe I don’t want to think about that trip.
Anyway, a few weeks ago, I went on the big snow trip with my brother,
sister, their partners, and the 25+ other “cousins” and family friends that I grew up.
It’s become an annual thing. The San Diego Lue kids (whether we still live in San Diego or not) and the Denver Lue kids (which, actually mostly still live in and around Denver) get together once a year for a big snow trip. Last year, they all made a big trip to
Park City, Utah… this year, we were making the trip up to
Breckenridge, Colorado.
Yes, folks. That was the house we stayed in... and almost nothing about it was refugee-style. Look at how we packed for the weekend.
So, when I say kids and cousins… I guess it’s a bit misleading. We’re not really kids anymore – I mean, some of us HAVE kids. Our ages range from about 35 to 22. My Uncle Dopey is about 35 and my “cousins” Tom and George are 22. And then, I realized, by San Diego and Denver Lue kids, I was really referring to the cohort of
1.5 to 2.0 generation Lue kids that grew up and/or were born here in the United States. I mean, the 30 of us on the trip were definitely NOT all of the 1.5 and 2.0 generation. We’re just a small portion of the larger group that have gotten close to one another through being resettled in the same city or neighborhood, going to the same high schools, having the first same jobs, etc.
Also, when I say “cousins”… I guess that’s also a little misleading. Most of us, are cousins… like 4th cousins or something where the family tree would be too complicated to figure out… and to be honest, the branches might cross over one too many times for it to be a pleasant experience to figure out. We’ve just become closer to one another than our “real” cousins because we saw each other at least every weekend instead of just once a year and we spent time together doing nothing instead of only seeing each other during big things like weddings, funerals, etc.
Our bond is through experiences and not necessarily through blood. I guess that’s what happens in a
disapora community that has fled several borders and resettled in a way to purposefully disempower you. You cling to those near and count on each other as family because your real family might be spread across several states or several other countries.
I guess Professor Um would call us apart of that special generation that are the “cultural brokers” of our people – the people who create that bridge between the old and the new… the migration and the resettlement… the homeland that will never be the same and the new home that will never live up to its expectations – and maybe the fact that we’re descendants of not only refugees but also the descendants of some awkward ethnic minority that no one talks about within the context of wars of Southeast Asia makes our stories and experiences particularly one of kind.
I mean, I don’t think many people can say their family members consist of people who go by Uncle Dopey, Brother Bear, Six, Lil Man, Funny, and Shane (while his real name is Steve)?
Or, many people can say that most of their older guy cousins have some homemade tatoos of “Lue” on their shoulder – maybe to remind themselves that they aren’t Lao?
Or, many people are closer to the “cousins” they grew up with – who they have years and years of shared experiences with but probably have no blood relation with them – then their actual cousins – who they share grandparents, aunts, and uncles with but probably see only once of twice a year?
While I make an extra effort to avoid going all ethnic studies on my family, maybe I don’t really ever have to because we are apart of it.
Maybe, we’ve all kind of realized that our stories and experiences are pretty one of a kind – yet very much from the same thread. Maybe that’s why we do these trips – to combat the policy of dispersal that spread our families, while all from the same villages, out across this huge ass country. Maybe that’s why we all prioritize making the time to spend with one another – to combat the alienation that we feel and experience as Lue Americans – no, not Lao American or Thai Americans – but Lue Americans.
Maybe we realize that there’s a reason why our parents get together for hours to drink beer, eat good home cooked food, and reminisce… about their childhood (before the war), their childhood and adolescent years (during the war), their early adulthood years sneaking out of the refugee camps to party in Thailand, and their adulthood years of first coming to the United States, figuring out how to drive, ditching adult school, their first jobs cleaning random office buildings, their kids, their kids kids, etc.
It’s like how we get together to drink beer, eat good home cooked food, and reminisce… about our childhood and living a few blocks away from each other, our adolescent years and taking the bus and trolley to the mall and the beach, our early adulthood years and going to high school, ditching high schools, and/or dropping out of high school, and our current adulthood years… which we’re still living and making the memories for stories of, “hey, remember that time at Jenny and Six’s wedding and you were so f-ed up?” or “hey, remember that year at City Park where you sang karaoke till 4am and then we woke up at 9am to go boarding?” or “hey, remember that time at Copper Mountain where Monica did a superman right before she got to the bottom and we were all watching her?”
Our stories of adulthood are going to be great… and we’re going to keep making the time for some good material and we’re definitely going to tell them over and over and over again for generations to come – blood related or not... because sometimes water can and does run thicker or as thick as blood.
And yes, that's another failed Thammarath siblings picture.
