The featured photograph was taken twenty years ago, as my ‘Aunt’ Elaine turned sixty. Impossible to believe that she’s turning eighty tomorrow, mostly because she’s ten times more active than I am, and I’m getting tired just writing this. A lifetime of community activism and work is impressive; that she has barely slowed down in all this time is the veritable mark of legend. After making Amsterdam her home in the early 70’s, she not only set down roots, but crafted a legacy built through hard work, endless volunteering, and transformations that saw her evolve from wife and mother to Montessori school founder and teacher, to various Presidents of organizations (I lost count of all the Presidencies which she has earned and served as).  

She has played an active role in the General Federation of Women’s Clubs since 1979. Aside from basic life functions, I can’t think of anything I’ve done since 1979. As we gathered for a joint celebration of her birthday and her son Stephen’s marriage to Hye Sun, I was once again happily astounded by how she managed to elicit such a collection of people who have loved her all these years. 

No one else can bring people together in such a way, and she is the living embodiment of the old adage that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It’s but one of the many things I have learned from watching her over the years.

I always wondered how she found the drive and energy to do all that she does. I’ve seen her traverse New York City and Europe in the span of three weeks, then return and have a pistachio cake on the table for an impromptu dinner. Her indefatigable spirit, even in the face of hardships and tragedies, is the stuff of hyperbolic myth, and events which might otherwise have derailed persons seemingly less-frail were surmounted in almost super-human fashion. Yet through all her personal pain she’s always devoted her life to serving her community. In a way, that became her purpose in life. It emboldened and fulfilled her in ways that the traditional confines of a stay-at-home Mom and widow could never allow. It never sacrificed her family life, not in any way I could see, and her example, coupled with my Mom’s, helped me become a person who never saw gender roles limit what any of us could become. That didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult – it simply meant they worked extra hard to make sure none of us noticed.

A very modern woman who values history, she is the living embodiment of how we keep the stories of our families going – these stories that told us where we were from and how we got to be where we are today. Those stories are no longer being passed on as much, but she continues to do her best to ensure that they are not lost. Tomorrow, we pause to honor all that she has done, and also to celebrate how lucky we are to have her in our lives. Happy Birthday, ‘Aunt’ Elaine! 

My memories of Stephen are like those that come from a distant relative forever on the periphery of family events. I was rarely directly involved in his world, but got to see some of it in glimpses and passings-by. Holidays and birthdays and simple summer days, I was there for most of the major events thanks to our family’s friendship with the Ko family. As the third of the Ko children, nestled in between the dominant older boys and the youngest baby girl, Stephen somehow managed to shine as his own star, impressing both mother and father in the manner that everyone else tried in their own various ways to attain.

He’d avoided the brunt of being one of the first-two born, and the competitive destiny that befalls many of us brothers no matter how hard we fight against it. He was also several years removed from the baby girl of the family, Suzie, with whom I would grow up. As the youngest kids in most situations, Suzie and I went largely unnoticed. Maybe because of that we got to see a little bit more. Even with such cover, Stephen glided more or less outside of my radar, and the few memories I have of him are rather ephemeral and innocuous.

One day I was playing with the Barbie dolls in Suzie’s bedroom. That glorious room, with its pink gingham canopy bed, lost completely upon Suzie but absolutely adored by me, held a large collection of mostly-ignored dolls and doll houses, and every time I went over to visit I’d find a way to play with them. Suzie would be supremely bored and usually slip away to find something – anything – more exciting than dolls. I’d brush their golden hair and arrange them by the pool. I’d set them in a car and send them on a summer drive. I’d seek out the fanciest ball gown and change them into it. They simply didn’t get the proper treatment they deserved while under the careless watch of Suzie. Just as I was doing this, Stephen walked by the room and asked if I was playing with Barbie. I’m sure I said absolutely not, even if I wasn’t quite socially cognizant enough to feel shame. He passed on, heading out to play basketball or something, and never mentioned it.

A couple of years later he took us to see ‘The Sting’ when he was supposed to take us to a children’s movie. He told us not to tell anyone, and I hope I didn’t, but I was angered that we had to watch some boring adult movie, and greatly unimpressed with the selfishness of young men even when it came to their baby sister and her equally-selfish best friend.

There was something more sensitive about Stephen though, and while he would tease my brother and I as much as his older brothers did, we never felt the same fear that they could inspire. There was something gentler about him, an artistic temperament that seemed to feel things a little more keenly than the average person. He lived a charmed childhood, from my limited vantage point, and he had the kindness, confidence and laissez-faire attitude that may have been a result of his cushioned position in the family.

The world isn’t always kind to those who feel things more keenly, however, and I occasionally imagined his moments of torment and pain, especially when his father died. Everyone died a little on that day, and I don’t think anyone has fully recovered. There is no recovery from such a swift, gaping loss. A bit of it heals, a lot of it scars, and in the end it’s with us for life – the constancy of which may be the slightest bit of balm on such a sea of hurt.

Families survive, somehow, and those who live hopefully find happier moments with which to build new memories, which is the happy ending of this post. After marrying his fiancee Hye Sun earlier this year in South Korea, Stephen has returned to celebrate with those of us unable to make that journey. He and Hye Sun are sharing a grand party both for their wedding and his Mom’s 80^thbirthday celebration (another post for another day). We will be joining them in our hometown of Amsterdam, NY – the city where we grew up – and for one of those rare moments our families will once again be together. That hasn’t happened in a very long time, and we’ve all missed it.