Saigon during my time was divvied up into a dozen districts joined by multiple roundabouts. Growing up during the height of the Vietnam War, I came-of-age not without incidents. Those news events got out via News Bureau pouches and diplomatic pouches, but the personal stuff stayed in the vault of my memory.
Sometimes, our alley activities intersected with world events e.g. district 3 kids turned out to watch the burning monk (incidentally, this act of protest inspired another Quaker across the world to do the same outside of Mc Namara’s Pentagon window). Other times, we just created our own fun….e.g. 2 condense milk tin cans on each end as telephony….or movies projected outdoors (I can still hear occasional roars of laughter when those B/W reels showed one of my cousins putting on his newly-wed’s ring as a pledge).
Our paved alley was for multi and mix uses e.g. gym and outdoor water park since it rained half of the year with half-breeds, both French and Indian – in our Garden of Eden ( we were 5 and without swim wears).
Then we grew up a few more years, old enough to toss secret love letters to each other. Fights broke out, always championed by the alley bully. A struggle for an Alpha Male position. This took a worse turn when a new kid showed up in the block.
Bold with a beautiful voice, Aily captured our hearts. Her mom put on makeups and went to work at night – we kids wondered what kind of work for a single mom to earn money during war time, with GIs, their wads of cash and a short R&R.
She then grew into her mom’s shoes…with makeups and all-black outfit for club gigs. All I remember was seeing an older guy gave her a ride on his fancy scooter out of our alley ( after she has pitch-perfected her Carpenters’ number…”Long ago, it seems so far away….”)
Our alley resumed binge watching e.g. Wild Wild West and Mission Impossible on Armed Forces Channel. American imports were well received on the streets and over the airwaves. Its music found one of our own “superstar” who rose above the alley and soared at an early age.
At the far end of that alley, Aily was the only kid who chased her dream while our bully was chasing his LSD. Last I heard, he died of an OD. Now I wish I knew what has become of our superstar….of “Long ago, it seems so far away…..it’s just a radio…come back to me again…and play your sad guitar”…
Told you. You can go into Library of Congress and dig up now declassified materials on the war, its “5-o-clok follies” and news briefs. Of Bob Hope’s Christmas Specials, but the personal angle? they are deep inside my head…voices and noise, scenes and sadness, laughters and fun. We are children of war…but not without resilience and life itself.
Thang Nguyen 555 