Marc with his family

My wife’s maternal grandfather turned 95 on Sunday, and the whole family celebrated in epic style. There were about eighty people at the feast, the majority of whom were relatives of the guest of honor. That’s right, my wife’s grandfather and grandmother have about fifty descendants across three generations (four if you count them) all in the same room. It made me think about how just one person can not only influence, but completely change, the lives of so many others.

You see, my wife’s parents grew up in China. They were teenagers during the Cultural Revolution. Their families were each considered part of the urban bourgeois class. As such, my wife’s father and mother were taken from their homes, with many other urban “bourgeois” youth and placed in rural work camps; reassigned as proletariats. That’s where they met. And from the moment he was sent there, my father-in-law began planning his escape.

He organized a small group of people he trusted not to betray him or his plans, my mother-in-law among them. She was terrified, however, and only my father-in-law’s reassurances that he would take care of her convinced her to actually join the escape party. One night the small group slipped out of the camp with only a bit of rice, a homemade compass crafted by my father-in-law, and a rough idea of the general direction they needed to travel to get to the coast near Hong Kong.

Unbeknownst to them, the journey through the mountains to the coast would take three weeks. Their food rations quickly ran out. They were being hunted and so could only travel at night. And one night they were discovered and surrounded by communist soldiers. The soldiers began shooting, the small party scattered, and chaos ensued. My mother-in-law remembers falling down a steep ravine, landing beside the body of one of her compatriots who had been killed by the soldiers just moments before. She hid under his corpse, undiscovered, until the soldiers left the area. She had no idea what had happened to my father-in-law.

Traumatized as she was, my mother-in-law somehow made it the rest of the way to the coast. The last obstacle between her and freedom was an all night swim through shark infested waters to the island of Hong Kong. She had a makeshift floatation device with her but early in the swim a patrol boat, looking for people attempting to escape to Hong Kong, approached her in the water and she let go of the floaty to dive out of sight. Only through sheer determination did she manage to keep swimming and make it the shore of Hong Kong many hours later.

My father-in-law took a different path. During the encounter with the soldiers he had been captured. Bound and thrown into the back of a truck, not knowing what horrible fate he was being driven to, he leapt from the truck to escape. He was captured again – only to escape again. Finally, on his third attempt he was able to evade capture and reach the coast for that same terrifying swim my mother-in-law had already survived. Many of those who entered the water were never heard from again. But my father-in-law emerged wet and cold … and free … on the shore of the British colony too.

After a short time searching for each other (not knowing if the other had made it or perished), my wife’s parents were reunited. They got married soon after, had a daughter (Yan!) and then another before immigrating to the United States a few years later. They came to America, just as so many others have, to provide a better life and more opportunities for their children.

They are indeed the quintessential American story. They came to this country, literally, with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a few hundred dollars in their pockets. That was it. They didn’t know a soul here. They didn’t ask for any handouts. They found jobs, worked hard, lived frugally, and pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. Eventually they saved enough to bring their parents over, then their siblings, nieces, and nephews, too. All of them came for a shot at a better life. And all of them received that opportunity because of a brave young man who refused to let his freedom be taken from him, and the brave young woman who believed in him when he promised to take care of her.

None of the people who were in that room Sunday night celebrating a 95 year old man’s birthday – myself included – would have been there if it weren’t for my wife’s father and mother. They are truly amazing. Few people I’ve met are as courageous, as hard-working, and as generous as I know them to be. They have changed the lives of everyone in their extended family. They have changed my life, too. I would not have met my wife if not for their desire to give their girls a better life. I would not have Cade and Ella if I had not met and married Yan. I would not be who I am today.

All it takes is one person with a dream and the determination to do whatever it takes to turn that dream into reality. That one person can change the lives of so many. I saw a testament to that Sunday night. It is a source of pride to know my wife and children come from such strong stock, and it is an honor to be a part of such an amazing heritage.

Marc with his family

Recently I had someone tell me, “In your newsletter, you present your life as perfect and your family as idyllic.” I can’t imagine that person has been a regular reader, but hearing that made me feel sheepish and uncomfortable all the same. I don’t want to be disingenuous with what I write. At all. In fact, my personal notes in each newsletter come from my blog which is part of the legacy I’m preserving for my children, and honesty is an integral part of that legacy. I believe in real, true relationships with my children – and my clients. The only way that works is if there’s complete honesty and integrity on each side.

So let me be frank. Being a husband is hard. Being a father is hard. The reality is, those are the two biggest challenges of my life. By far. I do write about much of the success I feel in those roles because of the incredible depth of joy I experience both as a husband and as a father. Absolutely. However I also try to write about my struggles and failures in each role, too. Because they are just as real as the joy, happen just as often (if not more so), and they are just as important. Without them I would not have the opportunity for growth.

To tell you the truth, I rarely know what I’m going to write about before I sit down at the computer. My heart just sort of guides my fingers and then there it is. And even when I think I know what I’m going to write about beforehand, I often turn out wrong. I don’t try to hide anything. I do probably tend to focus more on the positive than the negative, both in my blog and in life (besides, you’re not going to keep reading if all I do is whine!) but I certainly don’t try to portray myself as anything other than what I am: an imperfect man who makes lots of mistakes, doesn’t have all the answers (in fact, sometimes I feel as if I don’t have ANY answers), and just improvises as best I can along the way.

My marriage isn’t perfect. Far from it. I am not a perfect father. Not even close. I am an imperfect human being. But it’s my very humanity which my life – and my legacy – is all about. And it’s what YOUR legacy is all about, too. I just had a couple shoot their legacy video last week (legacy videos are a part of every trust plan I offer to clients) and I got a little misty eyed, as I often do during those videos. They opened up their humanity in front of me. It was genuine. It was real. It was powerful. I am awed and inspired by every client who shoots a legacy video for their loved ones. And I really do work with some amazing clients. I learn something from each of them: how they approach their marriages and their spouses, how they lead their families and parent their children.

Newer readers of my blog may not have the full picture. I have been writing for most of this year and I’ve written about my struggles as a father, as a husband, as a human. I’ve also written about my triumphs. I don’t feel the need to spin any of it. The interesting part for me – and I hope the meaningful part for my children – is that I am preserving the micro ebbs and flows of this part of my life. The hardest part of my life. The most amazing part of my life. Drama. Suspense. Romance. Comedy. It has it all. And I really couldn’t ask for a better – and more challenging – role to play.

Marc with his family

I love new beginnings and they seem to be all around me just now.

We passed final inspection last week on our K-town property and held an open house this weekend. There was a great turnout and I am thrilled and relieved. Relieved the project is winding down and that people seemed to really like the units we remodeled and made available for rent. Thrilled we’re going to able to get the amount of rent we hoped for, despite several people “in the know” telling us we never would. And our hunch on Koreatown has proved right: it is indeed a hip and happening L.A. neighborhood; great for investing.

School is back in session this week and Cade is entering second grade. After a tough 1st grade year, primarily – we think – because of Cade’s recently diagnosed far sightedness, he now gets a fresh start with refreshed eyes. He and I just got back from picking up his brand new glasses. He didn’t want to go get them. He didn’t want to put them on. He doesn’t want to keep them on. But he’s also realizing they’re making a difference. He keeps saying, “Daddy, you look taller through my glasses!” Hmmm. How can I convince everyone else I know to get a pair, too?

Ella Luree begins Kindergarten this week and is super excited. So am I. She gets to join Cade and me for school drop off and pick up every day. I’ll get to pop in and have lunch with her occasionally like I’ve done with Cade over the last two years (Field Elementary is just down the street from my office). She is ready, eager, and willing to learn. And she is thrilled to be back at the same school with Cade (which hasn’t happened since they were both in preschool at Pacific Friends together).

Yan and I just fell into a new “tradition” this weekend (if just twice in a row can actually be called a tradition). For the second consecutive Friday night we made the kids dinner, sat them in front of the TV in the living room, then had a nice candle light dinner for ourselves in the dining room. Just that little break, for that short amount of time, has been so nice. It’s enabled us to just relax, focus on each other – with only occasional interruptions – and reconnect at the end of the preceding fast and furious week. I’m already looking forward to doing it again this Friday night.

Last Friday evening after returning home from work, Yan and I decided to have an impromptu date night. We made the kids dinner and sat them down in the living room in front of a movie. We then made dinner for ourselves and sat in the dining room for a little peace and romance (complete with candlelight and wine). It was fantastic! Ella came in about half-way through our dinner, saw the candles and asked, “are you guys having a date?” When she realized that’s exactly what we were doing she insisted on waiting on us for the rest of the meal, periodically checking in on us to see if we needed anything. She was so cute.

Saturday started early and was filled with swimming lessons at Waterworks Aquatics in Sierra Madre, Piano lessons at Sierra Madre Music, software class and gaming at UCode in La Cañada, then out to Rowland Heights so Cade and Ella could have a sleep over with their cousins at Poh poh and Gung gung’s house. So Yan and I had our nearly unprecedented – at least since we’ve had kids – second date night in the same weekend. We went to King Crawfish and stuffed ourselves on shrimp, crab legs, fries, corn on the cob, and a bucket of beers to wash it all down. Mmmmmmmmm.

Sunday morning started early, too. The brood of kids all went to dim sum with their poh poh and gung gung while Yan and I headed to Atwater Village to attend a development (or rather, anti-development) meeting regarding a proposed project along the LA River, adjacent to a rental property we own. Atwater Village is one of our absolute favorite little nooks in Los Angeles so we decided to have brunch there after the meeting. We went to Thank You For Coming where I had probably the best French toast I’ve ever had. Ever. Mmmmmmmmmm.

Then it was over to Koreatown to work on the triplex for the afternoon. Finally, we headed back to Rowland Heights to get Cade and Ella so they could celebrate their grandfather’s birthday with him. He requested Korean BBQ so rather than driving all the way back out to Koreatown we decided to meet my folks in Arcadia at Young Dong Garden – gotta love that name. We stuffed ourselves (Mmmmmmmmmmm) and then finally headed back home to Altadena where we called it a night and checked off another full weekend for the Garlett family. Whew!