Crystallize The Gumbo!

Diversity, Properly Understood

by Patrick J. Shanahan
07/16/03

“Are You Out of Your Minds?”

That was the more or less standard response from family and friends when my wife Karol and I told them that we were planning to host a foreign exchange student for a year. Even if those words did not come out of their mouths, it was clear from the look of profound horror in their eyes. After all, in July of 2002 we had been married all of ten months - a hectic and wild ten months of trying to create a new family, blending the children, habits, memories, rituals, possessions and lifestyles of our former separate lives. “Patrick & Karol’s Big Adventure,” as we like to call it, had been a smashing success to date, but at a tremendous cost in effort, energy and emotion. What on earth would possess us, just as things were really starting to click, to take on the added burden of a complete stranger from another country?

I don’t know that we ever really had an answer to that. We had some vague ideas of course. Our student was from Japan, and one of our daughters very enthusiastic about things Japanese. But mainly, we just did it because it seemed like a good thing to do.

We left on a long planned drive from Minnesota to the East Coast and back in late July, still not having a clear idea of when our student would arrive. When we returned two weeks later, we found a letter from the foreign exchange student organization alerting us to the fact that she would arrive in two days. We had not even prepared a room for her! We managed to delay her arrival for a week, while we scrambled to get things ready. At the same time, of course, our daughter Heidi ended up in the hospital with a serious infection, Karol came down with an ear infection that rendered her more or less deaf for a time, the PGA tournament set up shop in our neighborhood (we live just off Hazeltine National Golf Club), and we had to prepare kids for the new school year.

But outside of that, we had it all under control.

And so, on a Monday evening in August, 2002, Marina Kinjo from Okinawa walked through our door and joined the Adventure in progress. Nervous, ill at ease, speaking a modestly fluent English, she stared at us and we at her. How the heck was this going to work?

To shift gears slightly, I have never been much of chemistry buff. In high school it was one of those classes that I had to grit my teeth and get through as quickly as possible. In college it wasn’t even on the radar. But, as with most things in life that are hard to get through, I took a few important concepts out of the class that have proven useful ever since.

Remember studying about supersaturated solutions? Those are solutions in which the amount of dissolved material is in theory more than can be held in suspension, but which do not coalesce or crystallize until some outside force - a speck of dust, a tap on the side of the beaker - intervenes to start the process.

In retrospect, it is clear that our family was a supersaturated solution. A solution formed of distinct and unique individuals (in addition to Karol and I there were children Jeremy, Heidi, Amanda, Patrick and Cathryn) along with Pupster (that would be the dog), Daisy (that would be the cat), various birds, rodents, and amphibians. Toss in brand new in-laws, a new house, new schools, varied and unique interests, vastly differing styles, and we had a great big rich family soup. A veritable supersaturated gumbo of emotions, habits, manners and energy.

It is equally clear that Marina was our crystallizing agent. She was the outside force that we needed to turn that rich but sloppy gumbo into crystal. Without trying to do so. Without even knowing that she was doing so. Without our really knowing she was doing so. Remarkable things can happen in the day to day process of living one’s life. It would be wrong to say that Marina taught us many things. She was not a teacher. It would be more apt to say that her presence allowed us to learn things about ourselves as individuals and a family that we otherwise would not have learned.

Don’t get me wrong. We didn’t learn because of cultural differences. We didn’t learn because she imparted the wisdom of the East, or because she preferred rice & fish to Pork & Beans. We learned because her presence in our lives made us stop, explain, and examine the premises beneath what we said and did. In order to help her understand what was happening and why, we had to back up and define it for ourselves in a way we otherwise never would have done. In order to understand how she fit into our family dynamics, we had to understand those dynamics in a new way from a different direction. Even little things like having to stop and explain what we meant by our slang and colloquialisms made us re-examine the way in which we spoke and what the words coming out of our mouths signified. This wasn’t a discreet, conscious exercise - it was an ongoing process. It was what happens when life is lived in a slightly different way.

The term “diversity” has been corrupted in all sorts of depressing ways. It has become slang for cultural self-loathing, it has become window dressing for politically correct racism, it has become gold for race-hustlers everywhere. But there is a diversity that matters. That is the introduction into one’s life of something that is different from that which one is used to. Something that makes you think through and validate what you do, what you say, and how you live. Something to crystallize the gumbo. That’s what Marina brought to our lives. I have concluded that everyone needs a Marina in their life at some point or another.

One week ago we drove Marina to the airport. We said “see you later” rather than goodbye. But we knew that it was goodbye. The remarkable year had come to a close, and she was going home. Over the course of that year things had changed irreversibly. We had changed as individuals and as a family. Marina had become in many ways a different person, and definitely a “Shanahan.” Patrick & Karol’s Big Adventure was rolling along under an awesome head of steam, heading into a bright future. Marina was heading home to Okinawa, to her wonderful parents and her dog Milky. Tears of joy and sadness rolled and our very souls felt as if they were being torn out as Marina walked through the security checkpoint, leaving behind a richer and happier family than she had found.

So, were we out of our minds to host an exchange student? Probably. Thank God.