A Memorable July 4th

OUR ADDICTION TO FAMILY GATHERINGS

On the weekend of July 4th, 2025, Peter and I decided to have our parents meet for the first time since we started dating. There was no specific impetus driving this event, but we did plan it about a month in advance. By this time, we were already spending considerable amounts of time with each other’s parents. We figured our folks by now were curious about our respective families, especially as both sides have already come up in casual conversation.

I was more keen on having our parents meet than Peter. It was my suggestion that served as the nidus for this event. Prior to this relationship, neither of us have had our parents meet our past partners’ parents. Perhaps it was just the timing that felt right, but Peter and I had been making steps forward in our relationship. As things became increasingly serious, it was important that our parents and families remain at the forefront.

In the initial stages of planning a get-together, I was very nervous and Peter less so. Neither of our parents were particularly fond when we came out. Though both sets of parents have been warm and welcoming in small, intimate settings, it is still uncertain to us how they truly felt about our relationship.

There was a recrudescence of anxiety regarding the topic of a being in a same-sex relationship that is still so heavily frowned upon within our families. The familiar but deeply agonizing yearning for parental approval again reared its head. I realized that having our parents meet was as much for them as it was for me—hope for an open embrace and celebration of our relationship. To that end, I had no idea how the event would be received.

Both sets of parents were born and grew up in Vietnam pre-war. Though my grandparents’ families of origin were from the north, my parents actually spent significant portions of their childhood in the south, much of it influenced by the impending war.

Peter’s parents are also from the south. They share a similar cultural background across different facets: language, appreciation for food, family values, and political views to name a few. Since Peter and I now live in Westminster, often hailed as the Vietnamese mecca in the U.S., we wanted to host a catered Vietnamese luncheon. At the very least, if all else went poorly, our families could enjoy the food.

We utilized a nearby catering service, Kim Huong Food To Go, a small mom and pop shop that we contacted about 2 weeks prior to the event. Everything from ordering to picking up was made very easy and straightforward. Among the several platters we ordered was bánh bèo—softly steamed rice cakes topped with shrimp, mung bean, and scallions. It’s a favorite of Peter’s mom who expressed her immediate approval upon seeing it. The dishes were curated to be either fully vegetarian or pescatarian as Peter’s sister would also be in attendance.

My mom has a particular penchant for taro milk tea. As someone who does not drink much boba anymore, I surveyed a small group of enthusiasts for the best taro boba in town. Sunright was apparently a popular choice and luckily so because Peter’s family also enjoys drinks from there.

Peter and I hustled that morning to do a deep clean of our apartment and coordinate all the food and drink for pick up. Everything went smoothly except for the Sunright order. They either lacked or prepared wrongly every single drink ordered except mine and Peter’s—the two people who are not particularly keen on boba.

We did not have much time to remain disgruntled because our guests arrived on time exactly as planned. Upon entering our apartment, our parents introduced themselves to each other and went straight for the living room to sit and talk. In fact, Peter’s mom out-hosted me by guiding my parents in past the entryway and to the living room. She exclaimed to me, before I could motion my parents to enter, “You are supposed to invite your parents in to sit!”

Internally, I let out a sigh of great relief as I let her take over the corralling of my parents. Peter and I exchanged knowing glances that our parents were getting along swimmingly in Vietnamese. Just the day prior, Peter was fretting over whether our parents would initiate chitchat in Vietnamese. For some incredulous reason, he was worried his parents would not engage in Vietnamese unless given an explicit instruction, despite it being a mother tongue for both our parents.

After about 20 minutes of socializing in the living room, Peter and I set the table for lunch. It was a self-serve buffet line of sorts. We were pleased to see that everybody piled on the food and even went back for seconds! Our parents, whom we now endearingly refer to as the elders, were engrossed in conversation. Topics ranged from reminiscing about Vietnam to cruises to raising successful, doctorate-educated children—so typical and expected of Asian parents, right? By the end of the afternoon, Peter’s dad was cracking jokes and my mom was giving out recipes for her celery with bitter melon smoothies.

As lunch neared completion, we enjoyed some delicious silken tofu with ginger-infused syrup that Peter’s parents brought. My parents, full from the lunch, initially declined dessert. But after getting a taste of the tofu, they opined that it was quite good and not too sweet. My mom even asked me later that day where the dessert was from. It was the perfect ending to a lunch that was not too oily and not too salty either.

They sat around for maybe an hour longer with continuous conversation. It’s funny to think that Peter and I were so nervous they’d have little to talk about—so much so that we even prepared a list of talking points to bring up throughout the day. We didn’t have to catalyze any conversation as our parents had proven quite adept already.

Eventually, my parents excused themselves from the afternoon as they had another obligation to attend. Our parents said their goodbyes and even gave each other cordial hugs and handshakes on the way out. Peter’s mom even made reference to a next time!

All in all, it seemed like everybody had a good time: full bellies and plenty of socializing. It was also fun for me and Peter and sit off to the side and catch up with his sister. Though, my curiosity had me eavesdropping on the elders’ conversations the entire time. I was surprised at how comfortable I was by the end of the afternoon—opposite but commensurate to the level of anxiety preceding. This was perhaps yet another lesson in taking things one step at a time, and that anxieties are often a projection of our own imagination.

XOXO,

Howard and Peter