I often interact with nephews, one in particular is even older than I, but all call me Uncle. To them, I belong to the previous batch. Last of the line. In the old Vietnam, once you made past 50, you are moved up to the “elder” circle (“chieu tren”) when feasting.
I had an occasion to do just so last night. I sat with much older people whose names I couldn’t recall, and whose silver hair I can hardly match. Vietnamese would commemorate their ancestors, more so than celebrate birthdays of the living. Past-oriented culture.
When Intel decided to put another of its Asia manufacturing plants, it chose the outskirt of Saigon.
In doing so, the chip manufacturer put the spin on Vietnamese time line. It will go forward from that point on. Chip set and not chess set (whose final move is to expose the King).
King, Priest, Teacher, Parent (and a host of higher-ups like Uncles). I see dead people (Sixth Sense).
Because of my “role”, I find it hard to be on the level with my nephews. We see each other, even hang out.
But we could never be friends for some reason.
There is a gap between us. It was put there by the assigned roles in Vietnamese society.
Extended families structure color coded people’s seating (just like airline class service). It would be interesting to have a software which help trace the Vietnamese family tree, so each of us can see how intricate the connection is, just as we learned how Obama was related to Palin. Hanoi was able to trace its roots to 1010, hence last week’s 1000th anniversary celebration.
People might be dead, but their city isn’t.
I see living cities. When something survives that long, in today’s modern world, it deserves a second and hard look. Let’s say this year were 1900, I would already be dead ( average life expectancy was 47.)
Call me Uncle, and see if I care. As long as I am not dead.
Thang Nguyen 555 