My parents are such quirky, wonderful people. The time difference between LA and Chicago and trying to reach them between our work and school schedules can be difficult.
Hopefully my parents don’t mind that I’ve just shared pictures of them on my public blog. You won’t see many pictures of me anytime soon.
Theirs is the only marriage I’ve really seen up close and it’s an interracial one. I don’t usually think about the last fact, except that my mom claims that she’s the exception and it’s better to be “same culture. Different cultures not good.”
I loved how a dear family friend, who’s also in an interracial marriage, responded to that. Her and her husband are very similar in culture because of what they value and how they are. Culture’s not solely tied to race. Her husband recently offered via my sister to fellowship with my mom about her prejudices. Surprisingly, my dad thinks it’s a good idea. We’ll see what happens. Of course, my mom might feel uncomfortable with other members of our church knowing her feelings on this topic.
One thing that always stuck out to me is how I never saw or heard my parents argue or fight. A friend’s mom happened to hear me say that once. She was very surprised. Many of my friend’s parents in elementary school were divorced. Whenever I asked my Dad if I could do something, it was always “go ask your mom” and vice versa.
My mom always told me to marry someone like my Dad. Sadly, there just aren’t many witty, diligent, nerdy, stick-skinny geniuses like him out there. Or at least I haven’t encountered any I actually got to know. A guy also named Andrew who likewise majored in physics once joined my English class at Berkeley. I remember being intrigued, but I don’t think he was there all semester.
One of my sisters prefers nerdy skinny white guys, though she’s open to other races. I’ve never known what my future husband would look like, what race he’d be. Any relationship where someone isn’t my exact combination of European and Korean is technically interracial. Although if you see me and a white guy together, we probably look like a white couple.
Some people know that they’re going to end up with a certain race. My old roommate, a Jewish girl with blue eyes and unruly brown hair, always knew she’d marry an Asian. And her husband is. I wonder how people know that. Well I guess if you’ve always had a certain preference.
The question of knowing in general looms largely in a relationship. It sounds cheesy, but how do you know if they’re someone you could be with forever? Forever is an awfully long time.
I don’t know how to conclude my posts. A questioner by nature, I could easily conjure up a multitude of questions to discuss.