magic + my dad
HE MADE TIRAMISU FOR 13 YEARS, NOW PIZZA TOO —
i’m mentally sifting through which memory to start this newsletter off on, but i can’t choose one that perfectly does the job. most sentences, when i think of my best moments growing up, starts with i and end with luck. i feel incredibly lucky to have believed in magic.
and i think that is part of the insane love that comes from having an immigrant father.
my dad’s love was in his actions versus his verbal affirmations. so often it’s easy for me to boil down my childhood into a bunch of happy, fairytale moments (true) but forget who was behind the scenes and pulling some strings (important).
i was taught love when i found all my previous letters i’ve written kept in a neat stack on my dad’s desk. i was taught thoughtfulness when i witnessed him bring a slice of margherita pizza to my mom on fridays like clockwork. even though i was complaining the whole time, i was taught community through the cabins and camping trips we had in my teenage years. i was taught loyalty by my dad hopping into a car and driving to boston about 10 minutes after he heard i have pneumonia. i thought i was taught embarrassment when him and my mom acted like newlyweds every time we went to a grocery store (instead i was just taught timeless love). the list goes on.
more later but first my words + reads:
my words: i wrote about how a down market could temper vc’s promise to be more diverse.
etc: venture hiring by definition is exclusive. in this piece, i try to add some necessary context to the flurry of pledges we’re seeing from firms across the country to invest in more Black founders.
learning lesson: capitalize the b in Black, AP style guide says. black refers to a color, not a person.
unorganized tab time:
the profile of reliance jio you need to read (and a reading guide for after if you want more)
it’s not just about e-mail, stupid
anyways,
as i’m sure other kids of immigrants can relate, it takes a while to realize gratitude. growing up it was very easy to compare my parents to others and think that a lack of high-fives for a’s or a weekly allowance somehow meant they weren’t as invested as others. i now realize i was quietly getting lessons in different ways. it wasn’t passive investment nor was it active in an easy to understand way. love was and continues to be just baked into the way he raised me.
even today when i called him for father’s day, and asked what he got/what he did, he proudly said that they went grocery shopping so that my brother sean could make dinner. when i got my dad airpods for his birthday and when i called him to ask for his review on them he told me his favorite part is that him and my mom can listen to the same song with one bud each. even during moments of celebration around him, my dad makes it about other people.
this father’s day, i’m thankful for a dad who has so selflessly stepped away from the spotlight that his daughter thinks about her childhood and feels like it was magical. that her memories growing up aren’t defined by grades or allowances, but dancing to this song and, during the holidays, turning the volume so high up on the TV downstairs that we can dance to music videos in the kitchen.
the only thing more powerful than believing in magic is realizing that there was a real person behind it the whole time. most sentences, when i think of my best moments growing up, starts with i, ends with luck, but always means my dad was somehow involved and cheering me on from a distance.
to my wonderful father,
n
pictured: my dad proudly posing during his first san francisco trip since i moved here. one walk around the neighborhood and he says he ‘got’ why i came here.
