….when I find myself in times, of trouble….Who am I going to call? the Ghostbusters?
Mother Mary.
Mother.
Mom (I can’t breathe).
I follow my Mom. You yours.
Heck with the war’s end. Heck with the beginning of a nice media career.
Mom.
Leave no one behind, especially Mom. Yet we did. Out of our depth and despair.
She was left in a refugee camp, all by herself. No sponsorships.
The US government cherry picked those who were able and employable.
My mom? about-to-retire teacher, with some French and written English only.
No way Jose.
Let her stay.
Feed her frozen fishsticks. Cheaper that way from the mess hall.
I was devastating. Did not know what to do.
How to make contact (no phone, no mail).
For a few first months in State College, I was on my own, no parental supervision, no country to feel proud of and no means to stay in touch with the remaining 8 who fled with me to America.
Mom, sorry!
Out of the gate, we were eager beavers, charged like bulls and found immediate low-hanging fruits.
Meanwhile, you prayed. You stayed behind, just as you were in that French boarding school (from Left, her guardian, middle: a cousin who had just had a baby, and my mom, at a vulnerable age).
Mothers breast-fed. Mothers spoon-fed. And Mothers gave to her child his/her snacks, spending money or in my case, fermented rice pudding – take-out from her Temple outings.
My mom often put on Temple-gray uniform and bowed. She prayed for peace, for her parents and sitter, deceased or alive. My mom gave cash to her half-brother, former SVN Navy man on leave. My mom gave me money for my Kung Fu classes, music classes, English classes. In short, her teacher’s salary was always split multiple ways. But first: a full monthly supply of rice staple and fish sauce.
The day we left Vietnam in a hurry, she managed to lug along pictures from the old days, divided up her cash for all children equally (grown up or still young like myself). In all fairness, she exemplified old-school motherhood, albeit semi-orphaned at an early age. What she learned about motherhood, perhaps was mostly from her guardian.
Today, I honor her and her guardian on Mothers’ Day. If it’s not for her guardian and guardrails, we would have grown up without roots (and only parler Francais). Mannerism and maternalism. I owe it to her, to them, to this day.
By reflex, I act out what would otherwise be characterized as a Mama’s boy…”I can’t breathe” etc…I love her to this day and the end of days. When you love someone, you want to please them, alive or dead.
P.S. I said “No” to a job offer by ABC-News affiliate in Scranton. Channel 56. Jay, News Director recruited from NYC, looked at me in total surprises. I did not tell him then. It’s my Mom, in Virginia. With no on to take care of. Can’t leave her by herself twice in a span of 4 years, just because “This Land is a land of opportunities”.
As I now look back, do a SWOT analysis of my choices in life thus far, that “No” was one of the most regrettable choices, yet most honorable one I could ever make. If I don’t give a damn about my Mom, who are you then.
My Mom observed anniversary of her guardian’s death each year. Just as we would hers. How could I miss those lessons in action. When I grow up, I want to be like her, never forgetting those who helped you.
“when I find myself in times of trouble”…
Mother bear waits for her young to catch up – more than often, follow in left-behind tracks. I am sure Mom is pleased to know my heart has always been in the right place, thanks to hers, which was at those same places to begin with.
Thang Nguyen 555 