Beyond Napalm

It’s Thanksgiving. Can’t think at all, but if I have to, I would put 2 and 2 together.

To know that nothing is permanent, especially our problems (per Charlie Chaplin, who also said, “a day without laughters is a wasted day”).

So let’s begin with some “impernanent things”, like Covid, Napalm, Agent Orange, Opioid, Injustice of the Native American – our fellow American, host of this land of “our” land…

By the way, what were those photographers in fatigue, taking Putlizer-prize photos of displaced children, scared to death of their then-destroyed homes?

I debated in Journalism class about Ethics in Photo-Journalism: should I, as a photographer of an unfolding drama, drop our gear to intervene and miss a moment. Of course, we could rescue this one and that one, but only have two eyes and two hands for this sort of mission creep. Or we cover it as precisely and professionally to enlist help, from around the world, and for ages….

Hemingway, once a Medic driver during WWII and the Spanish War, decided to live through those dramas himself in order to write, economically and empathically.

I had my moments of fear, trepidation and loss. Yes, I left everything and jumped on a unmoved barge (it was not even a boat with a captain).

Damn barge.

At times, it moved. Other times, it didn’t. Can’t say nothing to it. Just sit, hold your breath and your pees.

Fate in the hands of the Unknown.

No lights, except for occasional flares and flashes from afar, whatever distance we put between ourselves and what just hours before had been Home.

I understand and empathise with those kids…running naked, not toward an unknown future, but away from familiar home and unfamiliar danger.

Who wanted to become an US citizen in that life-and-death moment. Who wanted a Lexus, a Louis Vuitton bag…or even some clothes (she must have taken a bath when napalm rained down on her over bathwater..BTW, the girl in the picture later became whole, married with a family who loved her…something to be thankful for).

So on this Thanksgiving morning, I thank God for the four adults(2 down, 2 to go) of my original family (themselves refugees of war to begin with). The two survivors called me, one in assisted living, the other, can still drive to visit our oldest sister, in ICU after just her first day in Assisted (mild strokes).

No one invited them over for a Thanksgiving dinner just yet (between them, they got 6 kids, grown and accomplished. Bastards!).

For me, I’ve got 2 daughters of my own, and one adopted who have just become an US citizen (after I saw her inhaling second-hand smoke, not Napalm’s – the journalist’s ethics in me creeps up….keeping me busy….”Dad, this, Dad that'” for the past 7 years).

I thank God for protecting me so I can protect others.

I have lived a life “skinned my head and skinned my knees”…having enrolled in at least 10 schools at my last count.

Learning my “ABC’s” in three languages…being proficient in none.

Being grateful that I still am breathing during this forever pandemic, and after our longer and longest war (Vietnam, Afghanistan etc…).

Always running, once looking backward….fearful for my life…along side many others….

Together, we run, we cry, we laugh at the absurdity called life….which is not permanent…

Charlie Chaplin once said “Nothing is permanent”… He is so right….especially, about “a day without laughters is a day wasted.”

So I laught at myself. At how quick at times I found myself in tears…even as grown man, crying at love and loss e.g. lost links and loyalty, a lost house we had just repainted, the moss-covered alley through which to and fro schools. At many failed dates and fates. Had I known then what I know now..( I would linger and never let go…to store photographic memories of those faces….which we both knew were our last. “On Earth we were briefly gorgeous”.

On second thought, perhaps Nick Ut was right to capture “the napalm girl” (which won him his Putlizer). Or else, we wouldn’t have a graphic..to illustrate the point. The point is even our WORST moment of War is not permanent. Time heals both ungrateful and grateful heart. Mine is very much the later. How about yours? On this day, I hope yours join mine, in saying “Thanks”. That’s all we have to say, and meant it. The Maker knew both kinds, like in the back of his hands, who is His Judas and who is his Johns. And the Word made flesh….the Logos…among which the word “Thanks.” (non-verbal language count)

My oh my…. I once thought it was end-game: no more “Je t’aime” , a chance to say “Thank you God”, “Cam On Ngai” . Now we can all laugh til tears running down our cheeks…Don’t let Thanksgiving 2021 go down as a wasted day i.e…..without love in our hearts…or.whatever is left of that wounded organ of ours, napalm girl’s included. If she can do it, we can do it.