Shopping on a cold winter day. "This is before we got married," Randy said. "The beard had to go when she called me a porcupine." [Photo provided to chinadaily.com.cn]

“You guys are crazy!”

That was the first reaction of Wang Shijun’s 21-year-old son when he learned of our marriage one year ago. “It will never work out!” he fumed. “The differences are too great! It’s cross-cultural! There’s no way this will last!”

Addressing me directly, he pulled out his sharpest verbal knife: “You’re not like us,” he said. “Why do you want to marry someone of another race?”

My thick skin, acquired over 35 years as a journalist, came in handy. I replied calmly: “I thought we were all members of the human race.”

In truth, race has never mattered to me. I was raised to be colorblind. My parents taught me to look for a person’s character, not physical attributes. And variety keeps the world interesting.

Of course, it’s the inner person that really matters -- the person with good intentions, the one who is gentle and generous. When you look for common ground, you always find it, because with human beings there are far more similarities than differences, regardless of birthplace, lineage or cultural brand.

This is why my wife and I are still great friends a year after our wedding. We focus on the positive.

But culture ... ahh, culture -- bridging this gap can be puzzling. What makes sense to my wife sometimes makes none to me, and vice versa. Yet, there are no deal-breakers. Our cultural differences are more like a carnival ride, only nobody throws up. It’s a never-ending series of delightfully amusing moments.

That’s because, first of all, we consciously decided to be happy going in. Our honeymoon never ended. We dance after dinner and hold hands in public. We assume positive intent in each other. We give each other space. All of this seems like pretty good advice for any couple.