Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 55

“I remember noticing at a young age that my mom had two extra...

“I remember noticing at a young age that my mom had two extra stones in her mother’s ring. They were two rubies. And she explained to me that they signified my twin brothers. She told me that she’d given birth to them when she was 22, but was unable to care for them. So she gave them up to another family. I wanted to know more, but it was a closed adoption. We’d receive photos every few years, and I could see the resemblance, which piqued my curiosity even more. But we had no other information. We didn’t even know their last name. And my mom was determined not to overstep her boundaries. She’d always say: ‘I’d love to meet them. And I know you would too. But that will have to be their decision.’ So I didn’t push the issue. But in 2017 my mom got very sick with cancer. And during this time a letter arrived from my brothers’ mom. She told us about their lives. Nothing too deep: what schools they went to, vacations they’d been on, stuff like that. And at the end of her letter, she wrote: ‘I wanted to thank you for the blessing you’ve given me. I couldn’t have kids. And you gave me two.’ My mom was very moved, but she still discouraged me from reaching out. ‘It’s not our place,’ she said. But then a few months later her condition worsened, and she was admitted to hospice. That’s when I said: ‘Fuck it.’ I sent my brothers a message on Facebook. I explained the situation, and told them that if they wanted to meet their biological mother, they had to do it now. Their response was immediate. A few days later they were on a plane. We met in the hospice parking lot, and it was super awkward for two minutes. But then it wasn’t. They were so nice. Their mother was with them and she was so sweet too. All of us went inside. My mom was very lucid that morning. She noticed them immediately. She said: ‘Oh my God, my boys.’ Each of them took one of her hands. She told them: ‘I always thought about you. And I always loved you. I just wanted the best for you.’ And they told her: ‘We know that. And we’ve always known that.’ It was a beautiful moment. A couple hours later Mom started to feel tired, and she fell asleep. Then later that night, she passed away peacefully.

“I was born as the Soviet Union was falling apart. It says...

“I was born as the Soviet Union was falling apart. It says ‘Russia’ on my birth certificate. But my sister is only two years older, and her birth certificate says: ‘The Soviet Union.’ It was a dark time in the country. There were no jobs. The currency became worthless, and everyone’s savings were destroyed. Even the educated were suffering. My parents were university professors, but my mother would sell food and handicrafts on the street. The four of us shared two rooms. We slept on fold-out couches. We ate lots of porridge and lots of soup. Our special treat was Coca Cola. We got one bottle of Coca Cola for our birthday, and one on New Years. But I never remember being poor. My sister and I were surrounded with love and attention. I look back at old pictures, and I see my parents smiling so big. That’s exactly how I remember them: always smiling, always happy about life. Our prized possession was a bright red Lada, an old Soviet car that was a gift from my grandfather. It could only be driven in warm weather. It sometimes needed a running start, and the driver’s seat was stuck in recline. But every summer we’d take it out of the garage and pray for one more year. We’d drive it to Lake Baikal. And there was one big hill where the Lada would always overheat. If we could make it over that, we knew we’d be OK. It would be huffing and puffing. My dad would be flooring the gas, his seat stuck in recline. We’d all be begging the Lada to give us one more vacation. During these trips I’d tell my father not to worry. I’d joke that one day I’d buy us a fancy new foreign car. And he’d always just laugh. At the age of fifteen I left our house. I qualified for a program to study in America. I cried so hard, but it was a huge opportunity. I was able to enter college at the age of sixteen. I graduated with two degrees, and now I’m working as a financial analyst. Last year we took my parents on their first vacation. A real vacation. To Thailand. But that wasn’t the only gift I bought them. During my first year of working, I saved all the money I could. And bought them a brand new car. But luckily we didn’t have to pay full price. There was a $200 discount, for trading in the Lada.”

#quarantinestories

“He was really scared of my wheelchair when I met him. So it...

“He was really scared of my wheelchair when I met him. So it didn’t seem like it was going to work out. But I had a soft spot for him. Ted was the smallest of his litter. He ‘d been really sick and they didn’t know if he was going to survive. The first time I went to meet him, I collapsed in his owner’s kitchen. But Ted wiggled over toward me and laid down on my chest. Everyone thought it was so cute. It was the first time I’d ever had a health scare that turned into something positive, so it seemed like it was meant to be. There are two options when you get an assistance dog. You can get a dog that’s already been trained. Or you can train the dog yourself, and that’s what I wanted to do. Because I needed something. I have this genetic disease. It weakens every part of my body, but it didn’t get bad until my teenage years. So I had this wonderful life and then it was taken away. I was isolated from my friends for so long. I couldn’t go to school. It reached a point where I couldn’t see a reason to live anymore. I needed something to focus on besides my health. And Ted gave me that. He needed me and I needed him. I watched all the training videos I could find. I read all the books. I reached out to people and asked for help. It gave me a reason to talk to people again. I hadn’t done that in so long. And I learned that I was good at training. Everything just flowed. From day one, we’ve been so in sync. He can fetch me anything. He helps me get undressed. He even watches me when I sleep, and wakes me up if I’m having night terrors. My mom was having to help me with everything before I got Ted. And she loves me so much. But she has two other children, and I know she was getting so tired. But Ted doesn’t get tired. He loves to help. He’s so excited to help. He’ll pick up the same thing seventeen times. It makes him so happy. He’s my world, really. He saved my life. He made me happy again. And he takes so much pressure off my family. He gives me a break from being the disabled child. From being the focus of everyone’s attention. He lets me be a daughter. And a big sister. He lets me be Chloe again.”
#quarantinestories

“Mom died suddenly of a heart attack. One day she came home...

“Mom died suddenly of a heart attack.  One day she came home early because she was feeling tired, and then she just slumped over. My father was with her at the time. He tried to resuscitate her, with all the trauma that entailed. I’m sure it was tough on him, but he’d never been an outwardly emotional man. I’d never seen him cry. There was a bunch of people at our house after the funeral, and Dad kept excusing himself. I’d follow him back to his bedroom. We’d lie in his bed together and talk. It was the most open and honest that I’d ever seen him. He told me he was feeling lost. And inadequate. Mom had always been the outward face of the relationship. The talker and the feeler. She’d host the parties while he stayed in the kitchen. And now he’d lost that connection to the world. He said that everything good about me and my brother came from Mom: our intelligence, our kindness, our success. Listening to him in that moment, I realized how much he undervalued himself. I’d known that some of his dreams in life hadn’t worked out. He never finished college. He tried to start his own restaurant when I was younger. I remember we’d go to the farmer’s market together. He’d put on his chef coat, and network with all the vendors, and pick his own ingredients, and make his own dishes. It was such a proud time in his life. But the restaurant didn’t survive. And he had to go back to work for other people.  But everyone he he’d ever worked with came to Mom’s funeral. From twenty years of restaurant jobs. That’s how many lives he touched. Because even if he was a little gruff, Dad was always kind. He was always giving. And even if he wasn’t the most emotionally expressive, he was always there. He always showed up for my stuff. More than that. He always took an interest. A few years ago I decided to study archeology, and he’s become enthralled by it. Sending me articles.  Asking me details. I think he has this idea of himself as a grouchy old man, especially now that he’s alone. But that’s not how I see him. Not at all. A few weeks after Mom’s death, he sent me a text saying that he didn’t know who he was anymore. And I wrote him back: “You’re my dad.”
#quarantinestories

“I was just a neighborhood kid. There was no running water in...

“I was just a neighborhood kid. There was no running water in our house. Or electricity. So in the evenings, when I came home from school, I’d sit out near the road. Across the street there was a hotel where foreigners stayed.  I’d watch them play Frisbee. I’d watch them buy African souvenirs from the street vendors. Occasionally one of them would come speak to me. I was an inquisitive child. I liked to ask questions. So I think they found me entertaining. One evening an American girl came up to me and started asking me questions. Just small talk: ‘What’s your name?’, and things like that.  But then she asked my birthday, and I told her: ‘November 19th.’  ‘No way.’ she replied. ‘That’s my birthday too!’ And after that we became friends. Her name was Talia. She’d come visit me every evening, and bring me chocolate chip cookies.  She’d let me play her Game Boy.  She’d ask about my family.  She’d ask about school.  I was the best student in my third grade class, so I’d show her my report cards, and she’d get so excited.  She was the first person to take me to the beach.  I’d never even seen the ocean before.  We had so much fun together. But one evening she told me that she was going back to America. And I began to cry. She bought us matching necklaces from a street vendor, took one final picture, and promised that she’d write me letters. It was a promise that she kept. The first letter arrived a few weeks after she left. And there were many letters after that. She told her parents all about me. They invited me to America to stay with them for a month. They took me to baseball games, and amusement parks, and shopping trips. It was the best time of my life.  When I returned to Ghana, they paid for all my school fees. They bought my books and clothes. They paid for me to get a degree in engineering. Now I have my own company. The Cassis family turned my life around. I was just some random kid they didn’t know, and they gave me a chance for my dreams to come true. I went back to visit them last year. But this time I didn’t need them to pay my way. I was giving a speech at MIT, because I’d been selected as one of their top innovators under the age of 35.”
#quarantinestories

“Mom died on the first day of school. She’d been really sick...

“Mom died on the first day of school.  She’d been really sick that entire summer.  And she passed away on a Monday.  At 7 AM.  Almost exactly the time I’d be leaving for school.  I don’t think I fully grasped how traumatic it was for me.  I was there when she took her last breath.  I comforted my little sister while she said goodbye.  And the next week I had to start classes at a brand new school.  I was a junior at the time.  All the teachers knew what happened.  And they had told all the students, so everyone was pitying me when I showed up.  I met Alex that very first day.  We were in choir together.  We became friends almost immediately, but we didn’t start dating until we were both cast as leads in Seussical The Musical.  We became more serious during college, and we ended up getting married right after graduation.  I felt so sad that my mom couldn’t see any of it.  Every time a big event would happen, it would be like, she’s not here.  And she’s never going to be here.  I was a moody, shitty teenager when she died.  And I’m having this whole life where I become the person I’m supposed to be, and she doesn’t get to see any of it.  She’s not going to see me graduate.  She’s not going to meet my children.  And it especially sucks that she’ll never get to meet Alex.  We lit a lantern at our wedding to signify that my mom was still with us.  It was a beautiful ceremony, and afterwards we took our honeymoon in Hawaii.  A few days into the trip, I received a call from my oldest friend Meredith.  She sounded excited.  She’d just discovered a picture of our childhood soccer team, and there was a boy who looked just like Alex.  When I showed Alex the photo, he confirmed that it was him, he’d played goalie on that team.  I just started laughing.  It was such a God moment.  It was a moment when everything felt connected.  Alex and I had known each other as children, back when my mom was still alive.  The first thing I did was call my dad.  I asked him if he remembered anything about the Swan’s Dermatology Soccer Team.  ‘I remember the goalie,’ he replied. ‘During the games he’d always sit down in the net and play with the dirt.  And your mother thought it was hilarious.’”
#quarantinestories

“I remember there was a day in kindergarten when we were...

“I remember there was a day in kindergarten when we were supposed to bring our dads to school. It was some type of performance or something. I’d never met my father. So I asked my mom if he could come, and she told me: ‘He’s too busy.  He lives in Malaysia.  And he’s a king.’ My father was a king? That meant I was a princess! It made me feel so proud. But as I got older, I came to realize it was an elaborate story my mom had invented to comfort me. She was a single mother. We’d immigrated from the Philippines when I was six, and we were living in a rented room. That’s not how a princess was supposed to live. But whenever I’d ask more about my father, my mother would become withdrawn. She’d offer few details.  She told me that she’d been working as a nurse in Malaysia. And that she met the king at a party. But the rest of the story seemed to be painful, so I took it upon myself to never open that box. I stopped thinking about it. Then one night, when I was fourteen years old, the phone rang. There was a strange voice on the line. I’d never heard the accent before. It said: ‘I represent His Royal Highness, and we’ve received your letters.’ I quickly handed the phone to my mom and she spoke to the man for several minutes. When she finally hung up, she told me: ‘Your dad wants to meet you now.’ I took a week off school. We flew to London and stayed at the InterContinental hotel. We were greeted in the lobby by a lawyer, who gave us a wad of cash to go shopping, and told us that ‘His Royal Highness’ would be available for lunch the next day. We agreed to meet in the hotel restaurant. But it wasn’t just us. My father had an entourage with him. During our meal he was very polite. He told me I looked like my older sister. But my mother did the majority of the talking. She had demands. She wanted financial support, which was provided. But she also wanted paternity in writing, which was never agreed to. Our lunch lasted about an hour. Afterwards my father told me: ‘My people will call you.’ And we did meet twice again. Each time in London. Each time for an hour. But I was never brought into the family. I was never fully acknowledged. Thankfully, before we left that first lunch, my mother did make one last request.  She insisted that I take a photo with my father.”
#quarantinestories

“I met Jacob at a house party. I was nineteen. I’d just moved to...

“I met Jacob at a house party. I was nineteen. I’d just moved to New York from Brazil. Right away we became inseparable. It was the first time that either of us had been in love. Even though he was a little younger, Jacob taught me so much. I remember he used to read me Dr. Seuss books to help with my English. After dating for a few months, we decided to move to Rio De Janeiro together. We got married at the courthouse so he’d have Brazilian residency, but we did the rebel socialist thing. I was in a T-shirt. Both of us wore jeans. We stayed in Rio for seven months. We had our own house. No parents around. We went to the beach all the time. But we were too young to make a relationship work. Disagreements became bigger than they needed to be. It seems to be all or nothing when you’re young. Either everything is perfect, and you’re reading Dr. Seuss, or everything is horrible. At one point Jacob decided he wasn’t ready to be married, and we ended up going our separate ways. Over the years we lost touch.  I did call him once in 1990, and we had a wonderful conversation.  But by that time he was engaged, and he politely asked me not to contact him again.  I admired his integrity and respected his wishes.  Both of us got married. Then both of us got divorced. And I didn’t think about him for a long time. But on June 17th of 2018, I was watching an early-morning World Cup game, and I got a message on LinkedIn. It was from Jacob. He said he’d been drinking a cup of coffee, and was reminded of an inside joke we had. That led to a three hour phone conversation. Which led to a ten day trip to visit him in Michigan. I remember how strange it was when we embraced at the airport. We were the same people, but we were almost sixty. We’d lived through so much.  He had a little bit of a belly.  And so did I. We poured our hearts out over the next ten days. We didn’t spend all our time in the bedroom.  We spent our time talking. We talked about our difficult childhoods. Our mental health struggles. We talked about who we were back then, and how much we’d grown. At the end of the trip we decided to start a life together. We’re in a different season now. We’re kinder to each other. We know how to name things. And how to have difficult conversations. It’s not like back then. When we were young– we thought we knew everything. And we suffered so much for it. Because we barely knew anything at all.”  #quarantinestories

“After my grandmother passed away, Dad stepped out of the...

“After my grandmother passed away, Dad stepped out of the hospital for some fresh air.  Then he said a prayer and asked my grandmother to send him a sign.  When he opened his eyes, there was a dime at his feet.  And after that day, he began to look for dimes everywhere.  I was six years old at the time, and he’d always get me to help him search.  My head would be down wherever we went.  And whenever we found one, he’d say: ‘Bubby sent it to us!’  Then we’d add it to a little clay jar that I made.  Sometime when I was in third grade, my parents sat me down and told me that Dad had cancer.  I remember sitting in the guidance counselor’s office during recess.  Apparently he’d already been sick for several years.  It was a rare type of cancer.  And it was aggressive.  It would go away for two months at a time, but it would always come back.  But even the people who knew him had no idea.  He never let it stop him.  He worked really hard.  He woke up every morning at 4 AM to use the elliptical.  Unfortunately his last few years lined up with my angsty teenage years.  I pushed him away a lot.  I wanted to hang out with my friends.  And Dad wasn’t really the artistic type, so I didn’t think we had much in common.  But he kept trying.  And things did get better between us.  He was really silly and affectionate.  He’d burst into my room while I was studying, singing at the top of his lungs, using a bottle of shampoo as a microphone.  He’d always ask me to get coffee.  Or breakfast.  And I’d usually say ‘no.’  Because it’s hard when you have a terminally ill parent.  You think about it all the time, but it’s the last thing you want to think about.  And there’s this knowledge that the closer you become, the harder it’s going to be.  He died when I was sixteen.  It was November 30th.  I remember walking around the parking lot at his funeral, staring at the ground.  There wasn’t a dime anywhere.  And it really pissed me off.  I was looking at the sky.  Shouting at the sky.  But nothing.  We found over 300 dimes when he was alive, but I couldn’t find any after he died.  I searched everywhere for an entire month.  Then one day I had a really bad day.  So I decided to visit his grave for the very first time since his funeral.  I parked my car, walked down the steps, and found my dad’s plaque.  Then I looked down at my feet.  And there it was.”
#quarantinestories

“I met Claire during my junior year of college. She was the...

“I met Claire during my junior year of college.  She was the first girl I ever dated.  I’d swung and missed so many times, it was odd having somebody who finally reciprocated my feelings.  I’d never been very popular in high school. I didn’t have a core group of friends.  I wasn’t an athlete.  And before I met Claire, the only thing I had going for me was my intelligence.  I was always able to make good grades—so I sort of clung to that.  I became a perfectionist.  I wouldn’t even sign up for AP classes because I didn’t think I could make an A+.  When I got accepted into a great law school, I finally felt like I was being vindicated.  I was in the top quarter of my class.  But during my final year, Claire and I were taking a trip to her parents’ house, and we got in a bad accident on the highway.  I woke up in a daze.  When the doctors scanned my head for a concussion, they discovered a benign tumor.  My brain surgery was scheduled for the next week.  The surgeon told me to expect some memory loss during my recovery, but it was much worse than I expected.  I’d ask the same questions over and over.  Sometimes I couldn’t remember conversations that happened earlier in the day.  And I ended up failing the bar exam even though I studied my very hardest.  Eventually I was able to pass the exam, but it’s been a struggle ever since.  Over the past seven years, it’s been a constant battle to convince myself I’m still normal.  To convince myself I’m still smart.  But Claire has been a total angel.  She’s always telling me that nobody is perfect.  And that nobody needs to be perfect.  Whenever I get down on myself, she tells me to stop comparing myself to means and averages.  She reminds me that she’s not with me because I’m smart.  Or because I’m a lawyer.  She’s with me because I’m a good person.  And a good father.  And I’m deserving of love on those grounds alone.  Claire is the one who told me to send in my story.  She wanted me to tell you about how I passed the bar exam after my brain surgery.  But today is our eighth anniversary.  And I just wanted to tell her thanks for always being there.”  
#quarantinestories