It was at the University of Virginia that I learned that Chinese American families like mine could be happy.

My dad and four older brothers emigrated from Taiwan to the U.S. when I was 8 years old. We joined my mother who had established U.S. residency three years earlier. My world, centered in Northern Virginia in the 1970s, was predominately white and Christian. In my high school graduating class of nearly 400, I recall there were one Japanese American girl and a single Jewish boy. I don’t remember any blacks or Hispanics. 

Chinese and “family” were synonymous for me. A common Chinese phrase Chih Ku “to eat bitterness” or to endure hardship was an often repeated mantra at my home to deal with pervasive tensions, remnants of a difficult family and Chinese history. Joy was rarely expressed—laughter an infrequent guest.

The University of Virginia had a similar demographic to my suburban secondary schools: 90 percent white, 7 percent black and 3 percent other. So it was to my great surprise that my neighbor at Humphreys Dormitory turned out to be a Chinese American—Olivia “Livi” Lai (Com ’84).

Livi’s cinder-block walls were covered with life-sized Bruce Springsteen posters while mine were left stoically white. Her vivacious smile and bubbly personality contrasted with my serious student demeanor. She was born in Kansas City to educated Chinese parents with professional degrees. My mom was a nurse and my dad was a bellman.

Our family watched and discussed every expense; we mastered the art of coupon clipping and bargain hunting. Livi’s world seemed free of this overture of economic angst. She would talk with her parents and sister frequently on the hall phone; boisterous laughter could be heard throughout her recounting of the day’s adventures. I would phone when filial duty necessitated.

It’s a miracle Livi liked me. Though I was never a sports fan, Livi’s sports mania was infectious and she had me donning plaid skirts and Fair Isle sweaters to join her at the football and basketball games. She dropped out of sorority rush because one of the required dates conflicted with an NCAA tournament game.

One memorable campus night, Livi and I watched It’s a Wonderful Life together. Inspired, we rescued a Christmas tree from a dumpster on the way home while snow gently drifted down on us and blessed the scene. Our dormitory didn’t feel quite as hallowed the next day when our carpeting was dusted with pine needles.

Late in our fourth year, Livi’s father had what appeared to be gall stones; he was later diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. His condition deteriorated quickly and he passed away a few months later. Without any extended family in the U.S., I had never experienced the death of a loved one. I am still stunned remembering the grief I felt then and can feel reverberations from the unrestrained sobbing I heard that day.

In the years since his passing, Livi and her family have accepted their loss and continued to live life with love and fervor for each other, their circle of friends and community. I am blessed to remain among them and to continue learning from Livi how to live life with joyful abandon whatever the circumstances.

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