It was still early in the morning when Jae called, asking me to receive a guest who was already on their way from JFK airport. This sudden guest was one of his upper classmates. I had only met him a couple of times before he moved back to LA, where he’d grown up.
I opened the door to greet the guest while holding Kevin, barely a year old at the time, and was surprised to see that he wasn’t alone—he was joined by his mother and a several large pieces of luggage, as if they were moving in long term. It turned out that his family had faced a situation that required them to leave LA and hide away until the dust settled, so we welcomed them and set them up in the corner of our living room.
It was actually our in-laws who were more uncomfortable with us hosting these sudden guests. They were happy we finally had a place of our own to enjoy after living with them for a couple of years; but it looked as if we were now serving another set of in-laws. Being brought up in a culture where you have to respect and be obedient to elders certainly made us feel as if we were living with our parents again. But neither my husband, who could not turn his friend down, nor I, who wanted to support what my husband wanted, knew what else we could do.
As days turned into months, though, we became like family. Our guests helped me with cooking meals and even took care of Kevin when necessary. We were all in tears when they had to go back to LA.
Our willingness to house people on such short notice may sound a bit extraordinary to younger folks, but in our parents’ generation, it wasn’t. Housing was always scarce, and my parents once had to live with their landlord’s family for seven months because they returned after renting out the house to my parents. My parents had cared for many relatives who needed a place to stay while we were growing up, so taking my husband’s classmate in was not as dramatic to me as it might have been to others. In times when most had little to offer, people were more generous in general. I find it strange how in today’s culture, though many are blessed with space and abundance, people have a harder time letting that space go and sharing it with others.
My traditional values must have rubbed off a bit on my daughter, who tells me she is envious of me for having lived in the analog age. This is a girl who, though she has a tech startup, prefers to read a physical book and turn pages of a paper by hand. One time, she brought a thumb expander to make holding the book easier as a present from Korea. She was so excited, as if she had found a crucial tool for book reading, but no one was as thrilled as she was receiving the gift. She also enjoys wearing old jewelry or clothing that belonged to her grandmothers. As she puts it, I am lucky to have grown up in an analog age, where we may have lacked material abundance but were rich in human interaction and care for each other.
We didn’t have exciting toys or video games, but we played after school with dirt and stones in the neighborhood empty lots until we were called for dinner. There were beggars asking for food on the street; some of our classmates couldn’t afford to bring lunch to school or arrived without socks. Some still had outhouses instead of indoor toilets, and the bus to school was so packed I could not get on some mornings.
Though I didn’t live through a real war myself, I witnessed men landing on the moon. I am still thankful whenever I am under a hot shower or have a toilet right next to my bedroom because I lived through times when these things weren’t the norm. You don’t take modern conveniences for granted once you have lived without them.
Living the same way as in the old days, when people trusted each other, sometimes backfires on us. We have been conned more than a few times by those we trusted. One time, we found out that a friend whom my children called “Uncle” had taken money from everyone he introduced us to for seven years. He was Greek, and we’d met him through business, but he started coming to our house often and even cooked a meal for Mother’s Day. The disappointment I felt wasn’t just about the financial loss—it was more about myself. How could I not see it for seven years?
I was struggling with this newfound disgust over my blind trust when my husband said something paradoxical to me. He said, “Think about it. If those who are dishonest and take advantage of people are still the children of God, someone has to feed them. Why shouldn’t that be us?”
What? As ridiculous as it sounded at first, it was strangely convincing, and I started to feel better immediately. I think what really bothered me the most was the fact that I let someone take advantage of me—maybe because I felt stupid. But my husband is right. If anyone asked me if I would rather be a lender or a borrower, or the one who takes advantage of others versus the one who is taken advantage of, the answer is simple. It’s better to lend money and be taken advantage of than the other way around. So we decided to stick to our principles and live as who we are.
Throughout our lives so far, if you tally all the advantages of trusting people versus not trusting anyone, the former definitely outweighs the latter.
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