Thang Nguyen 555

I could recall laying there at Tu Du maternity ward, looking up and following my sister as she was shy and stepped away. My sister was already in college, but my parent hadn’t had babies for the good decade and a half. Something about resettling in in the South and bore fruits (comfort baby).

Then next early memory was when my Dad (x-army) throwing a knife which pinned into the door frame, with the thief in the night ran for his life. I was scared being so small and helpless, waking up in the middle of all the commotion: long stick with metal hook through the design window for air.

Later, on top of the divan, I stayed as far from the rising water as possible. Rain and dry season, more lf the former. On a dry day, I watched the four adults chasing one another around the dining table. My brother flunked the pharmaceutical test (one of his many later in life, even trans continentally), which triggered my dad’s anger, which triggered my mom’s protective instincts, which triggered my sister’s as well.

What a fuss! In a few decades, everyone would be dead. And die they all did, almost.

Another “slide” on the carousel, shows mid-summer festival “den Tao Quan” (lantern with shadows moving in circle), then of a monk burned himself to death, then 5 years later, the shooting of a VC on the rooftop (Tet 68).

In all, my small brain must have concluded that:

• life is transient – here today, gone tomorrow
• what matters is the moment, with family – extended ones, over the holidays (memorable)
• learning is privilege, ignorance is a rule
• if I were to survive until old age, it’s a miracle
• suffering is ever present, planned and not accidental (Schopenhauer’s “How much more suffering is caused by the thought of death than by death itself.”
• male is dominant (war or peace) female more nurturing and gay is bad (even in the US, this was true until 1969 and then of late about transgender sports)
• what is quality of life? a sense of well-being? conversation topics always center on weather, westernization and weaponization
• we’re not materialistic, since I grew up with radio and velo solex (or mobylette) back from school
• Big ballpoints barely arrived to replace ink (purple), kite flies the sky and lantern on the street (firecrackers and gunshots? both norm)
• Ghetto life entertainment? movie projected onto the alley wall e.g. home movies, wedding etc… or short clips of Charlie Chaplin, pre-paid. Funeral was an alley-wide three-days event only recently with gay entertainers beside tea, tea and lots of tea to keep the dead accompanied
• last I saw was the carbine N1, held high by my neighbor who made an exception for us to pull the barbed wire already in place for curfew and changing government

Cheers. Ly Ruou Mung! “Ngay ay que huong yen vui, doi anh ve trong chen tinh day voi” (when the sound of gun shots stops, we wait for your return)”.

To the best of my recollection, there hasn’t been a sound of flare, of bomb and of choppers after: French, American, Cambodia and China war. Classmates started to trickle back, for reunion, for celebration. “Nhac cao ly nay”…cheeers!

To the best of my recollection, there hasn’t been death by destruction among us class of 68-75. Only and mostly by attrition and of old age.

Then one day, when the universe keeps turning, churning to bring us ever closer, without my awareness or approval three will be no more recollection only reunion, mini reunion. At the last one, I thought I had left my phone behind. Upon returning to the restaurant, none was there except for the cleaning crew. Where have they all gone, long time passing. Like birds at the Buddha’s gate, bought and freed, we tend to circle back, self-enslave so we can be together, with illusion of strength in numbers. Die alone.

For now, I can still recall looking up from the bassinet, welcome to life on Earth, in Saigon, South of Vietnam where immediately traffic noise and carburetors’ dust was in the air. Only my sister and cousin Dao were there, one shy, the other with lots of kids and MIA husband.

I forgot to mention the elephant in the room: the war itself that scattered us to the four winds.