How I found Peace in not being My Father’s Son.
Growing up, we all aspire to be like our parents. In our home, it wasn’t any different. My dad came to the U.S. with nothing and was successful in real estate and financial planning. My mom is from Burma and was a great homemaker.
Growing up, my uncles would always tell me and my brothers my dad was the man. “Your dad help me buy this house [in Silver Lake] for $75,000,” one would say. That investment property is now worth over twelve times what he bought it for. “Your dad tell me [to] buy IBM [stock], so I buy IBM. It go up Soooo much!” another would say. When I was old enough to understand how well he did without having to go to law school or medical school, — — I thought, “Cool. I wanna do that.”
So I did. I kicked ass right away. After my first year, I finished in the top 10 of the 75 new hires in my office and 10% in a financial services company of 8,000. I remember getting an award and stopping by my parents home, excited to show how well I was doing.
My mom was really proud. When I showed my dad, he was like, “hey, that’s cute. Come back to my office.” When we got to his small, home office, he went on, “Remember when you were little and I finished my first year #1 in my office, got these 8 awards, and finished top 1% in the company?” Picture Charlie Brown checking the mailbox on Valentine’s Day, only to be disappointed, and that was me.
My dad was always a modest guy.
6 years later, I really wasn’t enjoying financial planning anymore. I wasn’t totally sure what I wanted to do, but I knew I wanted to help people. I volunteered a lot and sat on multiple nonprofit boards, basically as a volunteer fundraiser, and LOVED it. But there wasn’t anywhere near the same type of money in that field.
At the same time, my parents’ marriage was reaching its terminus. I moved home. It got really, really messy. I helped mediate things. That experience revealed that all the money and professional success doesn’t guarantee happiness.
When the dust settled, my mom went from having a very controlling husband and having the equivalent of minimum wage income to gifting herself a new 5 Series. Of course, my brothers and I were nervous. My mom is a very religious, devout Buddhist. She also tends to be very gullible. She’s the kind of person that will spend $500 on a palm reading and $1,000 on magic blankets from a pyramid scheme.
I set up her online banking and helped manage the finances. Five months into her new found wealth, there’s a week where I get these alerts of insufficient funds or low balance in her new accounts.
I ask her where the money’s been going. She says, “I’ve been sending it to this special monk in Burma, but don’t worry, it’s going to bring us all luck.” I was uneasy and annoyed, but it was her money, made her happy, and wasn’t hurting anyone…. So sure. Fine.
It’s early 2017, and I decide to leave financial planning and instead pursue a career in nonprofit. It took a while to make the mental leap. It was hard. I thought, I’m probably not ever going to have nice things again. When I start a family, I’m not sure what kind of provider I’m going to be. How big can I really dream anymore? But I was so unhappy in financial planning that I had to make a change to a career that would make me happy.
I left my job and started looking for my nonprofit role. And during this “funemployment” gap, my mom is about to go on one of her quarterly trips to Burma that she had been going on the past couple of years. She says, “hey, why don’t you come? You can come meet the monk I’ve been sending money to. He will bring you Good Luck.”
I thought, well I’m not working, why not??
When we arrive, my mom reveals that the money she’s been sending has actually been going to a pagoda in dedication to my late grandma.
I think… hmmm… that’s sweet I guess…. I don’t know if it’s 6-months-of-savings sweet, but OK. We fly there and I’m still not sure what to expect. A pagoda is Buddhist shrine. It could be the size of a shoe box or maybe the size of Kevin Hart.
We make our way to the site of the pagoda in an old white van, with decent air conditioning. Burma is super hot and humid.
We start driving down this dirt road toward the pagoda, and the pagoda slowly comes into view. It’s probably 10 yards by 15 yards wide and 3 stories tall. It’s huge and pearly white.
It’s built at a monastery. When we get out of the car, easily 25–30 orphans greet us, squealing and chattering around us. They’re so happy to see my mom. They put umbrellas over us for shade. One little girl holds my hand.
The pagoda is just about done and the blessing ceremony is the next day. The village basically shuts down and everyone comes to the monastery. My mom pays for the food for everyone at the celebration.
Apparently, she’s built so much goodwill with the money she’s sent, they’ve made her trustee of the land. This has opened up more opportunities to do good. (I’ve guided the conversation toward building a school and housing for the kids. More on that in another story.)
And I remember when it was time to do the blessing ceremony, my mom was linked to my arm. And we’re walking around the pagoda, and she says to me, “Hey, Mama know you’re worried about money, and you compare [yourself] to your brothers.” (One brother is a lawyer and the other is in private equity.)
She says, “I know you think about baba [my dad] and you worry about money.. and you wanted to be like baba, But I have 3 sons and am glad one is like me.”
That sealed it for me. I was at peace with the decision to make a career change into the nonprofit sector and all that would come with that choice of service.
So, now, I work in nonprofit and fundraise for a homeless service agency. It’s the best job I’ve ever had. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I love going to work every day and love the people I work for.
I don’t think about living up to my dad anymore. I just hope I can live up to my mom.
