I know I’m in trouble mentioning the word “miracle” during the holidays. I’m beyond saving if I add the word “family” to the same sentence. But I want to tell you about my family miracle.
Around 10AM on every New Year’s Day of my life, I have had breakfast with my extended family: all five of my dad’s siblings, plus my cousins and their families. We all eat. Then we go home and cook. We return for dinner: more eating. Unlike other family reunions I’ve heard about, we don’t have T-shirts, we don’t travel anywhere exotic, and we don’t rent out a restaurant.
Longevity is part of the miracle. As far as I know, New Year’s has never been cancelled in over five decades; one year, my grandfather sold his wedding ring to make New Year’s happen. Maybe it’s because my father died over twenty-five years ago, and in some families that would mean that my link to his family died, too. Maybe I’m more aware of longevity now that I have two daughters to bring to the table.
Part of the miracle is also what I get to eat. At breakfast we’ll sip ozoni and eat its mochi, along with its shiitake mushroom, nori and shungiku. We’ll eat my uncle’s sabazushi with pickled mackerel. I can’t wait for my cousins’ carefully timed barbequed teriyaki ventolin inhaler albuterol chicken. At dinnertime we always start by lining up for Auntie Nesan’s chow mein. Another auntie brings arroz con gandules from her husband’s Puerto Rico. My Filipina mom will make lumpia; I’ll make sukiyaki using my dad’s recipe. My cousins and aunties will stuff the inari zushi and roll the maki zushi. There will be teriyaki Spam musubi, oden, crab legs, hijiki, tai, char siu, and umani. Dessert has its own table: fruit salad, pies, finger jello, multiple flavors of leche flans.
As well as we eat, I don’t want this piece to be a “savor the ethnic traditions” one. I’m also resisting the predictable family potluck cliché, about every contribution being valuable.
Yet New Year’s is miraculous: an annual family table. It is my touchstone, and what I think of first when I think of family. The meals are a staggering amount of work, the day has evolved over decades, and it will not always stay the same. Nevertheless, I’m a fairly sane and grounded person…and if anyone asks, New Year’s is where I start to tell the story of my sanity.
(I submitted this piece to a publication–they asked for a 400-word piece about “family” or “holidays.” It wasn’t published, so I get to publish it here! Happy holidays to everyone, and thanks for reading. Back in the New Year, if not before.)
This nearly made me cry–with nostalgia and longing. You are so very lucky.
Oh, thank you, Tea. Yes. I know I am very, very lucky.
I have been away from writing, from blogs in general, and from your blog for a looooooong time Tamiko – but coming back today to read what you’ve posted up since so many months ago makes me smile and maybe even cry a little. So beautiful, especially the tribute to your husband, and the pieces about your father.
My grandfather died this March. Suddenly, and yet not so suddenly – he was very old, 95 by his birth certificate (which should have been backdated a year or two, but he lied about his age for his immigration documents from China when he was about 16). I haven’t written about it, not since one long, rambling, anguished piece in my aunt’s house as I prepared to go home for the funeral. I don’t think I could at the time either.
Perhaps I will, now that I’ve had time to let it go and settle. Reading your pieces encourages me to have another go at it.
And you’re right – miracle is the word and family miracle is something even more special.
Oh, hello, Shuku, and welcome back, virtually and physically! (You were traveling this last year, if I remember correctly? How was it?) Thank you again for your kind words. Writing has done so much for me this year, and I hope it can do some of the same for you as well. I know I am mentally and physically more healthy, because of it.
Absolutely beautiful. My mouth and heart are envious and filled with emotion as I glimpse what is surrounding (and on!) your table each year.
Thanks, Amy! It is one of the best days for me, always. A great way to begin the new year.
Tamiko, yes, you are incredibly lucky, and also generous. Most of us can only dream of family reunions like that! Thank you for allowing us to join you through story.
Thanks, dear Julie! There’s some idealization, of course, but it makes me so happy. That day grounds my ideas about famil, and tradition.