Maybe Camryn Bynum's life really is a movie.
You'd be hard pressed to find more of a storybook ending than the one that recently reunited the Vikings safety with his wife, Lalaine. Last Sunday she finally got to see her husband play for the first time in person, capping a yearlong effort to bring her over from her native Philippines.
"We made it out here. It's a movie," an ecstatic Bynum said after kissing Lalaine on the sidelines at U.S. Bank Stadium in a video he posted to social media. "Thanks to y'all, wife is here."
All of Minnesota was rooting for the couple to have this moment, but not everyone understood it. Why would it take so long for Lalaine to receive a visa to be with her husband, a U.S. citizen born in California?
For those of us who are still close to our families' immigration story, we thank the charismatic Bynum — heart-on-his-sleeve and 100% human — for putting a face on an age-old story of love, separation and bureaucracy.
I'm one of those grateful for Bynum. It took my grandfather, an American citizen who ran a "Chinese hand laundry" in suburban Chicago, several years to bring his wife and two children from Hong Kong to the United States.
At the time, only 105 Chinese immigrants were allowed to enter the country per year, which was an improvement from the decades in which Chinese laborers were excluded entirely. One of the laundry's loyal customers was a federal judge, Joseph Sam Perry, whose shirts were cleaned and ironed by my grandfather.
According to family lore, one day over small talk, Judge Perry asked my grandpa if he had a family. "Yes, but they're still in Hong Kong," responded my grandfather, who'd been trying to bring them over through the proper channels for a decade.