Have I ever shared tales of my traditional Fourth of July? If so, please excuse this recounting. Ten plus years ago, the husband of one of the Tall Guy's coworkers was sworn in as a US citizen. Both Big T and M are Lebanese, but M already had citizenship at the time of her husband's ceremony. Our family joined Big T and M downtown to join in the pomp.
It was the Fourth of July.
Every year since then, we have celebrated with them. We have homemade Lebanese food, watch real football, play football, and hear tales from their family's adventures around the globe. Not hot dogs. No baseball. Baba ganoush is my food of choice to celebrate Independence Day.
Their extended family has become our own. We have watched Big T and M have two darling sons, Lash and Little T, mourned with them as Big T's mother tragically passed away, celebrated Christmasses, weddings, and everything in between. They have helped shape who the Stud and I are today.
When we considered moving to Cyprus, we learned that several of the employees Mr. F would be working with were Lebanese. I truly leaped for joy and yelled, "THE FOURTH OF JULY IS SAVED!" I could watch the EuroCup and eat tabouli once more!
Last night two of Mr. F's Lebanese coworkers graciously took us out to dinner. Without much delay I shared my stories of Big T and M and the little I knew of their homeland. We spent the next couple of hours chatting comfortably, exchanging views on current events and learning about one another's families. I felt that same familiarity.
I am growing ever more grateful for my parents and the way they raised me. When I look at who I consider to be my extended family, the circle is wide and incredibly diverse. My parents taught me and my brother to recognize the good in people, regardless of where they come from. As I keep ending up in foreign locations, I find this to be such a gift my parents have given me. Folk are folk, no matter where you are.
It was the Fourth of July.
Every year since then, we have celebrated with them. We have homemade Lebanese food, watch real football, play football, and hear tales from their family's adventures around the globe. Not hot dogs. No baseball. Baba ganoush is my food of choice to celebrate Independence Day.
Their extended family has become our own. We have watched Big T and M have two darling sons, Lash and Little T, mourned with them as Big T's mother tragically passed away, celebrated Christmasses, weddings, and everything in between. They have helped shape who the Stud and I are today.
When we considered moving to Cyprus, we learned that several of the employees Mr. F would be working with were Lebanese. I truly leaped for joy and yelled, "THE FOURTH OF JULY IS SAVED!" I could watch the EuroCup and eat tabouli once more!
Last night two of Mr. F's Lebanese coworkers graciously took us out to dinner. Without much delay I shared my stories of Big T and M and the little I knew of their homeland. We spent the next couple of hours chatting comfortably, exchanging views on current events and learning about one another's families. I felt that same familiarity.
I am growing ever more grateful for my parents and the way they raised me. When I look at who I consider to be my extended family, the circle is wide and incredibly diverse. My parents taught me and my brother to recognize the good in people, regardless of where they come from. As I keep ending up in foreign locations, I find this to be such a gift my parents have given me. Folk are folk, no matter where you are.
While I love the relationship my parents blessed me with by living so close to my grandparents I also have thought fondly of your need to rely on others families for that comfort and thought it was so neat. I remember you telling me once that you wanted to live far from your parents so that your kids knew that too. I am glad that my family was always your family and yours always mine! Love you friend! And can't wait to share the adventures of Bekka with our little one!
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