To Build a Home
Strong families, like strong organizations, don’t just happen. They’re built.
I've always jumped at the opportunity to visit my friends' hometowns, childhood homes, or meet their parents. When I was younger, visiting a friend’s home always felt like an intimate glimpse into a world I wasn’t part of. I studied dinner table dynamics, listened to how parents shared advice, and paid close attention to how love and conflict lived under their roofs.
Growing up far from my extended family left a particular void — one that I've unconsciously tried to fill through these visits. As a typical third culture kid1 without relatives close by, I would latch onto friends who had big families or strong traditions, embedding myself into their family dinners and celebrations. I distinctly remember hard-launching friendships by asking within a few months if I could come over when their family was around. I paid attention to how they interacted with each other, how big families uphold tradition and maintain closeness.
This curiosity has taken me to corners of the world I never thought I'd see. A few summers ago, I visited my friend's childhood blueberry farm2 in Langley, BC. Her family's entrepreneurial roots were planted by her grandmother, the family's matriarch. In the playground of the farm, tinkering took on a new meaning. Her dad had fixed up unique vehicles and had various successful home projects displayed throughout their home. Her mom proudly plucked beans and zucchini from the garden to prepare delicious meals. Her grandmother spoke about buying equipment for their winery and gradually scaling up the operation, turning their u-pick blueberry farm into a destination for locally produced wines. This culture of tinkering, building something from nothing, and taking pride in sharing things made with love was evident in every part of the family.
Last winter, I visited another friend’s family in Bogota. I don’t speak Spanish, but we bonded over fruit and food. For the entire week, her grandmother prepared cozy, homey meals while we co-worked from her backyard. On one of the first days, I went to the nearby market and brought back every fruit I didn't recognize. Her grandmother was delighted by my curiosity and quickly advised me on the best ways to enjoy each one. During this trip, I learned the depths of how families can show love for one another. In Chinese culture, the family tends to be less outwardly affectionate. Her family hugged generously and asked earnest questions. When we returned from dinner, her parents would immediately come to the door, embrace her, and enthusiastically ask how our evening went. Even after a night out, her parents insisted on picking us up, gleefully asking who we danced with during the ride home.
A few months later, visiting another friend’s family in New England, I found myself swept into a surprise engagement party disguised as a family lobster feast. They were excited simply to sit around the fire pit or the front yard basketball hoop and catch up on life. On the long car ride to a family lobster feast, her mom enchanted us with stories of her youth and their childhood. She imparted life lessons through storytelling and listened intently to my friend’s and her sister’s stories. In every story where someone else could have easily spun it out to be gossipy or negative, her family approached it as a lesson to be learned and an opportunity to capture. There wasn't an ounce of jealousy or spite in their narratives. This explains why she is one of the most energetic and positive people I know, someone who truly seeks understanding and approaches everything with curiosity.
And then, today, there was the ranch.3
A fun perk of my job is that sometimes I spend the workday outside the office and on a farm or ranch instead. During a customer visit to a regenerative ranch in Texas, I encountered something unexpected. This family had been ranching on the same land for 170 years — a legacy spanning multiple generations, trials, and evolutions in agricultural practices. What struck me most wasn't their farming techniques but the organizational and social infrastructure that tied this family together.
The first thing I noticed walking into the farm office was the screensaver on the owner's desktop PC: three generations beaming in a single shot. I learned that this family held biannual general meetings. The owner, a veteran rancher in his sixties, was actively engaged in succession planning, making a dedicated effort to pass on his 40 years of ranching knowledge to the next generation. They had a vision and mission statement clearly articulating the family's shared commitment to their land.
In these meetings, all of-age family members were invited to discuss investments, ventures to pursue or abandon, operational changes, and overall strategy. During our visit, the office walls displayed large sheets of paper with various brainstorms and affirmations. I saw the Eisenhower matrix with top priorities categorized into the urgent-versus-important framework. The owner proudly showed us their farm "tinker list": a series of important-but-not-urgent small tasks that family members could pitch in on when helping out.
Finances, operational details, and estate planning—often sensitive topics—were openly discussed during monthly meetings held on the first Friday of each month. If I’m ever fortunate enough to be in business with my own family, this is the level of closeness I’d strive for. Families should support one another not only socially and emotionally, but also in building careers and creating shared wealth.
The 170 years on the ranch wove a culture of knowledge transfer and mentorship into the fabric of their family business. The owner took time to learn our names and ask thoughtful questions about our backgrounds. Though not formally trained in management, he embodied many of the qualities I’ve seen in the best leaders I’ve worked with.
They reminded me that family can be a high-functioning organization — not just emotionally supportive, but operationally sophisticated. This family had rejected the false choice between tradition and innovation. Their respect for accumulated wisdom didn't prevent them from embracing regenerative practices their great-grandparents wouldn't have recognized. Instead, they'd created systems to evaluate new ideas against their core values: land stewardship, family cohesion, and financial sustainability. Their meetings weren't just about operations; they were a deliberate practice of collective decision-making that honored both experience and fresh perspectives.
In earlier visits to friends’ homes, I was often focused on soaking in the atmosphere. But something clicked for me today at the ranch — their rituals weren’t just organic expressions of family culture, but outcomes of deliberate choices. I saw a family that had intentionally designed their systems, not just inherited them.
As someone whose work centers on systems thinking, I was humbled to see a ranching family apply that same rigor to their shared life. Knowledge wasn’t just haphazardly trickled down; it was documented, discussed, and operationalized. Decisions were made collectively. Values were clearly articulated and iterated on.
Today’s farm visit reminded me that strong families, like strong organizations, don’t just happen. They’re built—with intention, structure, and care, generation after generation.
recently
A little snapshot of what I’ve been up to and what’s on my mind
I recently read Abundance by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson, a book on progress (or the lack thereof) and the reasons that have led us there. Highly recommend it if you have not read it and would be curious your thoughts.
I’ve been interested in community and social infrastructure for years but thinking about it a lot more recently. I wrote a similar piece for work on the art of gathering people.
Agency is Eating the World. A great piece by Gian on being biased towards action.
Death & Taxes dinner a few weeks ago by Jiaba Supper Club. It was so well done! I loved the discussion prompts before each course, the thoughtful seating, the creative menu and the guest book.
photographed by @liiuphotography Currently reading The Kitchen God’s Wife by Amy Tan. Been reading more Asian authors this year after my Ted Chiang and Liu Cixin binge.
I love Spring but allergies this year have been so bad for me. I have never experienced such a bad allergy season but I was on an inhaler, multiple anti- histamines and Flonase for two weeks. Praying that this will end soon.
A third culture kid is anyone who grows up in a culture other than their parents' or the culture of their country of nationality. I grew up with and lived with my parents and brother in Singapore but everyone else was in Hong Kong or scattered across the world after waves of immigration.
Ari’s piece she wrote a few years ago about that same visit that captured it with a vividness and grace I could never match
I’m writing this on the plane after a visit to this regenerative ranch in Texas. I’m surprised that I have been thinking less about the land and the customer insights we gained and more about the family and the systems they’ve built and the intention behind them.
"Though not formally trained in management, he embodied many of the qualities I’ve seen in the best leaders I’ve worked with."
I am curious to read more about these qualities.
So interesting! Thanks for writing this!