OCTOBER 6, 2019 – Today marks the day three decades ago when our younger son, Byron Kang Boger Nilsson, first arrived in the U.S. We’d been through a similar event just over three years before, when his older brother, Cory, had landed in our embrace—likewise, after a “forever” flight from Seoul, Republic of South Korea. (See my blog post commemorating his arrival day—September 11.) On October 6, 1989, family and friends gathered at the arrival gate at Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport to welcome another infant-bearing 747 stork.
A few days after Byron’s arrival, my sister Elsa dropped by to check on the new addition. He looked so serious as I held him up for a good look at his aunt. In response, she quipped, “Hmmm. Barely four months old, and already he looks like an elder statesman.”
Now that Byron has lived abroad and traveled frequently across the globe—I often think of that early appellation, “elder statesman.” If ever there were a statesman in his personal relationships, it would be this 30-year old friend of so many people here and around the globe.
When he was barely five, I asked Byron casually what he wanted to be when he grew up. We were walking down our drive at The Red Cabin. He waited a beat or two and said, “I want to be a leader.”
A couple of years later at The Red Cabin I got an inkling of what he’d meant. We drove Cory, Byron and a couple of their friends over to my brother-in-law’s cabin on our lake. The objective was to see a new modern wonder: an imposing, two-level, heavy-duty timber fort that Beth’s brother had built for his kids. It was mid-May, and the mosquitoes were ferocious.
“Quick, run to the fort and back before the mosquitoes carry you away!” my wife said to the boys.
They exited the vehicle and dashed—about halfway to the fort. The bugs were so bad, the kids beat a hasty retreat—all except Byron. He stopped. He looked at the fort, then at the car; then back at the fort. He put his head down and raced to his objective. Inside he scaled the ladder to the lookout and gave us a victorious wave. Only then did he descend and chase back to the car.
So it has been ever since. When faced with a challenge, Byron puts his head down, and with uncommon determination barrels past the “mosquitoes” that would discourage a lesser person.
Matching his resolve is his wisdom and consideration in human relations. At every turn, Byron thinks of the people around him—and those who aren’t. He’s the master of insight, the paragon of kindness, a master conversationalist. I often think to try to model his behavior. I sputter when I do, as if speaking a language not quite my own. Byron’s care for others is without the accent of effort.
In my book, he’s become a leader, an “elder statesman.”
Happy arrival day, Byron!
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© 2019 Eric Nilsson
