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I am one of nine children. Being the sixth child, with five brothers and three sisters, I was forced to fend for myself in a crowded home with a pecking order that was not favorable to me. I am sure this helped shape my independent character.
One of the fortunate aspects of this crowded childhood is that I had many accidental teachers who nurtured me. I soaked up their passions and skills just by being around them. My lifelong reading habit came from my oldest brother, who was a voracious reader and book collector.
As there were no lending libraries during the '60s in Wonju, my hometown, my brother's books were precious resources for me. I spent most of my school breaks reading book after book from his bookcases, including many world classics in translation. Later on, as an adult, I was thrilled to read some of them again in English and appreciated this early introduction to literature.
Second brother taught me how to use a sewing machine and how to cook. I still sew because of him. Third brother was the bandmaster at his high school and loved music. We had no choice but to listen through paper-thin walls when he played an LP of Tchaikovsky's "Pathetique" over and over again.
This early exposure made me a classical music lover. Fourth brother was a nature lover. I followed him around the mountain slopes in search of wildflowers and edible plants and spent many hours chasing after minnows and crayfish in the streams near our home. Fifth brother was a thinker. Even though he was the youngest of the five boys, he was the one who prompted me to think about God, my existence and the purpose of life. This ultimately led me to seek guidance from our neighborhood pastor, study the Bible and ultimately get baptized.
My eldest sister and my second sister were both art majors in college. I pored over their books, mesmerized by the images that renowned painters had created. Their paintings opened my eyes to the world around me and helped me see it in a different way. I learned the power of art to liberate us from traditional ways of looking at things. I began to sketch and paint. Whenever I sit down to paint watercolors these days, I travel to a planet of my own, leaving behind a reality that can be too constricted.
My husband's mother had three amazingly loyal children. I know from my conversations with her that her daughter called her every single day during the five years she lived alone after my father-in-law's passing. I shared this with my oldest sister when she visited me earlier this year, and she couldn't believe her ears. She never knew that Americans could be that filial. She told me that none of her friends had children who called them so religiously.
When my late mother spent six months with me in New Jersey 30 years ago, she expressed great surprise at the unusual closeness of my husband's family. During those six months she witnessed firsthand how closely knit the O'Brien clan was. She was also impressed to hear that my husband's maternal aunt in Illinois had a family reunion every other year in Wisconsin, which never failed to draw at least 100 family members. She told everyone back in Korea about this whenever people spoke of how individualistic Americans were. She admonished them and corrected their preconceived ideas. She was a fierce defender and advocate of the American family values she personally experienced during her visit.
I see these values everywhere. Almost every day I cycle around in the park near our Miami Beach apartment, then sit on a bench under the palm trees and enjoy the breeze. I cool down, gazing at the beautiful ocean, sitting at "my" bench. But this bench is not available for me during the weekends, when families of various ethnic groups occupy every picnic table in this entire park for extended family gatherings. I marvel at their family solidarity. I smile at their happy faces, thinking that all is well with the world when families are together.
I recently read a book by Will Schwalbe, "The End of Your Life Book Club." It is a love story written by a son celebrating his mother's life through the books they read together while she was dying. A book critic describes this as "a graceful, affecting testament to a mother and a life well lived." Throughout the book, their evident love for each other was palpable. This book again confirmed my conviction that family love is universal.
I am thankful to God for giving us family. Lee Iacocca, the former Chrysler Corporation Chairman, is right: "The only rock I know that stays steady, the only institution I know that works, is the family." Family does matter. Maybe it is the greatest matter in our life after God.
Hyon O'Brien is a former reference librarian now living in the United States. She can be reached at hyonobrien@gmail.com.
