Aunts and Uncles: So How Are We Related?
In all the stories my husband told me about his childhood in China and Taiwan and his teenage years in Japan and the Philippines, he never mentioned any aunts, uncles, or cousins. It seemed reasonable since neither of Eugene’s parents had siblings.
So when we moved to the Philippines, I was more than a little surprised to be met at the airport by a smiling, friendly group of people Eugene called “auntie” and “uncle.”
They stood around with us, talking—sometimes in Hokkien and sometimes in English—waiting for us to collect our suitcases, and finally walking us to where we would catch our ride. As soon as we’d said our goodbyes, I asked Eugene who they were.
“They’re from Amoy,” he said. “Good friends of the family.” I quizzed him again later, and he was still hazy on the details. They might be related, somehow, he said, maybe on his mother’s side.
To me, that seemed like an extremely casual attitude toward relationships. In my family we made a point of knowing exactly how we were related. Coming home from family gatherings, we would double check the names and relationships. Aunt Esther was the sister of my maternal grandfather, Mom’s aunt, my great aunt. Her daughters were my second cousins. Aunt Gertie was Grandma Rose’s aunt, my great-great aunt. It went on and on.
Now, looking back through the letters my mom saved, I see that what Eugene’s aunts, uncles, and cousins lacked in definition, they more than made up for in kindness.
The day after we arrived, Aunt Patricia took me and our oldest daughter to the supermarket and bought us our first supply of groceries, including a carton of sweet corn ice cream, Magnolia’s flavor of the month.
The following weekend Uncle Gregorio and Aunt Catherine took us to the Army Navy Club for swimming, fried chicken, potato salad, and, for the kids, American candy bars.
Uncle Luis treated us to dinner at the Elks Club.
rattan table and chairs
A few weeks later, after we’d settled on a house to rent, Uncle Gregorio, who knew all the best places to shop in Chinatown, took us shopping for furniture. In my letters home I listed all the things we bought: an air conditioner, fan, gas range, and three beds. After that, we went to a rattan factory and ordered a rattan dining table with a lazy Susan, ten chairs, a bar server, sofa, two arm chairs, a foot stool, two end tables, a coffee table, rocking chair, and two lamps.
Eugene and R with rattan furniture
The cost for the rattan: $556. Money well spent for living room and dining room furniture we used for many years.
Over the next nineteen years we continued to spend time with Eugene’s aunts, uncles, and cousins. We never did pin down how they were related or whether they were simply close family friends. I guess it doesn’t matter.
Are some of the people you call “auntie” and “uncle” actually close family friends?
Related posts: The letters my Mom Saved
Everyone Has a Maid (or Two or Three.)
In the Days of the Dressmakers
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Nicki Chen is the award-winning author of Tiger Tail Soup.
Emotionally charged and lyrical, Tiger Tail Soup captures the drama and suffering of wartime China through the eyes of a brave young woman.
Where to buy: Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, apple ibook
