My husband's mother is French, and his father was Serbian. I knew this — and them — when I married him, so I can't complain. After all, there are a lot of advantages. She is a wonderful cook, hostess and teacher, and he was an accomplished and caring doctor who dedicated much of his career to treating people with HIV from the time it first surfaced. He also came from a culture entirely different from my own. (I'm half country, half city, all South Carolina.)
In Serbian culture, Slava is important. Slava is the feast day of the family's patron saint, and our family Slava just happens to fall on St. Valentine's Day, or "Sveti Trifun," as they call him in Serbia.