The Y bridge

Years ago, I met a GI in West Virginia. He couldn’t recall the name of a bridge in Saigon, only that it’s a fork on the road.

I blurted out, “the Y bridge”. Something came rushing out of the man’s eyes albeit well-hidden behind thick glasses.

He was instantly transported back to a time and place. When he was younger, more eager to help (he served as a chaplain in the Army)

and perhaps, more idealistic. For me, the Y bridge was the bridge we took to my grandpa.

We took the right of the fork, leading to and pass the Slaughter House (Lo Heo Chanh Hung).  And on our way back, of course, we made a left turn to go home to District 3.

Vietnam now has a bunch of forks on the road to take, most critically, how to get through “valley of death” to join the league of middle-class nations (Singapore, Taiwan, S Korea)  or stand on the side line and watch others zoom by (like the Philippines). In short, middle-income trap. (As of this edit, Vietnam’s Leader is visiting Washington in a series of talks about Trans-Pacific Pact. Another Y bridge after Clinton’s initiative to normalize relations).

It’s common knowledge that each Vietnamese thought highly of him/herself  (one upmanship) e.g. my girlfriend got a whole mouth of crooked teeth – more than yours who has only two.

In that vein, we don’t need a panel of judges to decide which Vietnamese Got Talent. It is happening naturally, every day. Yet, each person needs to make that choice at his/her Y bridge. I learned from a cousin recently about my now late father who once said, ” just to take the turn and deal with the consequences later”. To my Dad, there were no indecision (imagine each traveler stops at the Y bridge, undecided which turn to take).  A dilemma of pre-mortem brain-storming. Calculate the risks. Take the plunge. Fall not into the paralysis of analysis.

A friend shared a YouTube clip on “Ordinary people doing extra-ordinary things”. In it, I found heroes who also faced life dilemma, a fork on the road, their “Y bridge”. But their choices left great intended consequences to this day.

Only after they paid hefty prices.  My Dad lived on until he passed away at the age of 93. Apparently, whatever consequences he had to sort out did not bring him down, otherwise, he would have been dead much sooner.

Put my Dad up against the x-Army chaplain who couldn’t recall the name of the bridge, I would classify my Dad in the first group (Three types: those who made it happen, those who wait for it to happen, and those who ask “what happened?”.) Take the right turn. Then take the left. It’s 50-50 chance, rather than no chance.