When living abroad, homesickness comes in waves. To adjust to feelings of missing family, friends, and foods, I try to find things that remind me of home. For some, this means taking comfort in eating American cheese, or putting up photos of family in a bedroom. For me, seeing the active grandmothers in Kinmen reminds me of home.
I was raised with two grandmothers. My mother's mother is from Mashad, Iran, and my father's mother is from Okinawa, Japan. Neither of them spoke English, and both communicated with me in their native tongues: Persian and Japanese. Growing up, I understood living in a multi-lingual home was something of an anomaly, not a stereotypical American experience. However, as a child, it surprised me to discover that my peers rarely had contact with any grandparent.
I could understand the position of diligent mothers and fathers who had their own children to care for, and therefore, saw caring for their elderly as an extraneous duty. Yet, I felt saddened at a standard sight when I visited other relatives and family friends in nursing homes: an elderly person, blankly sitting in a chair in front of a television set, without any visitors. I felt troubled by the echoing concerns of my generation regarding caring for the "baby boomer generation" when they enter old age. Here the elderly-our parents, as senior citizens-could be perceived as burdens. I have experienced the benefits of living with the elderly, and I don't believe grandparents are a burden.
While my parents worked, I had the company of my home-bound grandmothers. I felt no shortage of love, advice, or attention when coming home, which I'm not sure would have been the case, had I frequently come home to an empty house. My Iranian grandmother, in particular, played a key role in shaping my identity.In spite of minimal education (she was stopped from attending school at thirteen), my Iranian grandmother is one of the wisest, most pure-hearted people I know. I looked forward to going home, where I could enjoy her delicious Persian meals - soft enough for a toothless person - and her guidance. My family life had some challenges - my Iranian grandmother suffers from long-standing heart disease and had multiple heart attacks, while my father's mother has dementia. In an unexpected way, being exposed to the suffering of the elderly was a humbling and important lesson at an early age: ultimately, I too would feel great pain, but the meaningful connections we make with others can make it bearable. She gave away most-everything she owned, and only wore three outfits, which she sewed herself. My Iranian grandmother taught me by example to be happy with little, to give and help others as much as I could, and to be relentlessly self-sufficient, even with pain and the offer of assistance from others.
In Kinmen, when I see the resilient elderly women at the farmer's market, taking the bus, riding bicycles, walking slowly, and holding their grandchildren's hands, I smile. I truly admire the strong sense of duty to care for one's parents, as well as children, and regarding the elderly with respect. Hearing many stories of Kinmen elders taking care of their grandchildren, while parents work in Taiwan to support the family, reminds me of my own upbringing, and how I felt fortunate for such a dynamic. I think that the children in Kinmen living with their grandparents perhaps have a greater sense of awareness of their family's struggles to work toward a better life.

『本專刊由<金門日報>編輯部與學術交流基金會(傅爾布萊特交換計畫/Fulbright Taiwan)共同策畫製作』