Looking back, I often realize that I was very lucky to have been born to the parents that I have, and to have the siblings that I have. Sure, we didn’t grow up rich, but my parents were able to instill in (honestly) a rather shiftless son the values of hardwork, perserverance and just enough ambition to be dangerous. I am very blessed to have my parents, and I am sure that I have not said this enough to them.
Writing that doesn’t mean I will be rectifying this error anytime soon.
But beyond looking back, if I look to the left and the right, I realize that my parents are not the sort of parents that I would like to be. To be honest, when I raise a family, I want to raise children in much the same way my older brother raised my nephew. And no, it is not because they ended up with a talented (dance troupe, captain of track team, Princeton) and well-behaved son.
They expressed a lot of foresight and thought into raising him. In raising him, they put all their eggs in one basket, doubled-down and doubled-down again.
As I stalked the streets of Saigon tonight, I reflected back on what I was missing in my upbringing. What are the key experiences that I wish I had had growing up, not as a means of regret or FOMS (Fear of Missing Something), but to better understand how these deficiencies may have impacted my own personality.
This is all conjecture and solipsism and egoism. But hey, you came to this blog to hear me ramble. I’m not taking the fall for this.
I remember quite clearly a fight (or whatever teenagers call pushing and yelling nowadays) with my neighbor, Greg, one year my junior, average student and on the hockey team. To sum up a rather naive and arrogant argument, I told him that he would be a failure in life because of his bad (average) grades, and that he would end up working for me.
Yes. I was an endearing piece of shit.
You see, I had somehow developed into an academic snob. My worldview was narrow, as all teenage perspectives are. However, couple that with crippling low self-esteem, and you find yourself with a chubby Asian kid who believes that the only things that he is good at, are luckily, the only things that matter.
It’s funny how these things work out, huh?
And that’s the genius of my nephew’s upbringing. My brother and his wife made a point to have Tim try everything. Musical instruments, painting, various sports. I remember one visit where Tim was learning how to draw. This accomplished a couple things.
First, his parents were able to determine pretty quickly what he was good at, and what he liked. The pretty clear, primary objective.
But secondly, whether they realize it or not, what happened was that Tim realized how much effort it takes to become average/skilled/good in things other than school. To have exposure on the “maker” side of arts, sports and performance immunizes him from the condescension that I felt growing up. The condescending attitude I had to the athletes and artists around me, because they weren’t “smart.”
Whatever the fuck “smart” means.
Whereas Tim can go to a concert, look at a painting, and really understand the effort and work that goes into a thing. And see things for what they really are, and remain humble, despite his own personal accomplishments. Humility is something we don’t have enough these days. And Tim, because he has tried almost everything, is better equipped than most.
And that goes double for his uncle Chris.











