Thang Nguyen 555

Saw a bunch of rough-looking…in goatees, dark T’s and caps…milling about the Hallmarks section.

It’s Mother’s Day.

In my telephony days, Mother’s Day was the busiest. Network planners worked over-time load-balancing the circuits and CPU’s.

Even during Operation Frequent Wind – later re-branded as “Honorable Exit” – one of the code phrases was “Mother wants you to call home”.

Much has been focused on Mothers.

How about taking it one notch up, to the future (I hope Climate Change doesn’t do us all in) when my daughters and yours become mothers themselves…(Hope they don’t do it all at one time as the Malian mom last week).

I’ve got friends who on top of staying home due to the pandemic, double-duty as first-time grandpas.

In case I don’t keep up with these “Jones”, here are hugs and kisses to my daughters, future moms. ________________________________________

These are for you. Happy Mother’s Day, signed and sent through the nodes, 21st-century version of a time capsule.

My mental image of a mother goes like this, in case you’re interested.

She rises extremely early, gets herself presentable, gets foods on the table and prepares to greet her students who are charged with carrying piles of graded homework to class (she finished them the night before).

She teaches in school, long hours of instructions in all subjects (Vietnamese schools back then did not have speech specialists, music specialists, arts specialists and P.E. coaches).

TIEN HOC LE, HAU HOC VAN.

She models both civic life and intellectual life. The attitude and gratitude, reflect in her hand-writing, her oral and written communication; how she interacts with colleagues and relatives (in-law side) who got nothing but praises for her.

Then she puts dinner on the table and labors deligently at those assignments late into the night (I know this all too well, since I did not have the luxury of being “tugged in”).

Mothers. Old-fashioned? No yoga spandex Nike outfits? No women nite-out? No pepper spray in her purse?

Yep. I grow up quite conservatively. The unselfish genes. Encoded with millions of nomad years, hand-me-down.

She took it all with grace: twice a refugee (even from Northern to Southern Vietnam, it’s quite a world away by her standard)

Then North America, without knowing a single soul native much less Native Americans.

That’s your Grandma. Be like her. I would gladly give parts of my body for her since I know she would me.

Your children will know you by your deeds more than your speech (the louder the less effective).

So, what to do to de-code those “unselfish genes” ( in today’s dynamic equivalent – where if one loses, it’s the other side that was cheating.)

You look deep into yourselves and your souls. Grandma will be there to speak to and through you…Moana….just kidding.
That quiet strength is in you. You are now mothers… with encoded “know what to do” depends on the circumstances.

You can join the Army, Be All You Can Be.

You can apply to Yale…think all you can think.

Or you can stay home, and be the best Home-Ec your kids could ever dream of .

No right or wrong answer.

Just beware that the genes and instructions, the algorithms, are encoded in you, just like that accent you struggle to rid of or the eyelids that brand you as Asian.

Asian Heritage Month.

What is that??? Like Earth day, Native American Day? Teacher’s Day. It’s on the Calendar, but is it at the bus stops?

Celebrate them with vigor and vibrancy. Know you have every right to be here, to thrive and to fight for what’s yours.

Hard work, determination and a sense of mission: we are not here to feed the payload, ours or others….No no no. We are here as a MESSAGE. There is no need to re-hash and re-brand betrayal as “Honorable Exit”. Just thrive honorably, live compassionately and speak with confidence. That message is encoded from centuries through you onto others, yet to be born. It’s human, albeit a bit nomadic, but it’s compassionate and creative.

Someday, when we all meet again, on the other side of the de-coding process, we’ll know…Right now, all are fuzzy, as if looking through a kaleidoscope distorted ( we need each other to help us “see” ourselves, since none of us by design ever saw our faces with our own eyes, only their reflections).

If current data hold, I might still be around to help watch your kids once in a while, like my friends, who double-up as a filial son and grand-father.

We’re all hyphens, to help transmit values (source code) from one to the next version 2.0, 3.0 understandably not without bugs.

It’s best that way and the best way to humanize the message. Being both a message and a messenger keeps us humble…and not high-heeled like little Hitlers running around.

My mom embodied an important “feature”: what constitutes a woman in her time, in war and in peace. She is buried now (Serenity, a section of the cemetery). Many are taken away pre-maturely during this pandemic: moms of all colors and stripes. But you Moana (kidding again) are still around, to take up the torch and run that race toward the Sun.

I so am glad to be an active participant in your lives, your children’s future lives – my mom’s version 4.0.

Happy Mother’s Day , my daughters – future mothers.

I will be right here, at the Hallmarks section, picking out the card.