Tag: Amerasian

Reflections of my life

” I am changing everything” …Like Holden Caulfield, catcher in the Rye.

“Oh I don’t want to die..”. The future that I once fret is my current present.

“All my sorrows”….were for nothing. They said 90% of our worries didn’t materialize.  Yet we keep worrying. Like a plague. Dec 21st or 23rd (Mayan Calendar).

Just shop til we drop ( even right after 9/11).

The world is, a bad place, a terrible place to live (lyrics).

The hardest part is to face and live with one’s self.

Tend not to those urges ( self-sabotage and self-destruction.)

Who planted them there? Those seeds? So the Earth would be less populated?

Take me back, to my own home (Lyrics).

Those GI‘s who listened to this song from a transistor radio, deep in the thick jungle of Vietnam. Have they often reflected on that experience? The Amerasian children they left behind? The bodies and chemical agents?

Who won that war? Or any war for that matter!

Perhaps both sides have lost.

Lives destroyed, and environment contaminated .

Bombs and napalms have fallen here when “Reflections of My Life” was at the top of the chart.

A generation of young people were forced to grow up really fast, to reflect on death and dying, to ask hard questions.

All my crying (lyrics)

It hurts to face separation, from neighbors and friends. The comfort zone.

Gone forever. Like a movie reel that got torn at one of the splices.

Tran Hung Dao, the Sea General, was back to sea (his imprint was on the then currency). Dust comes to dust.

In Vietnam, it’s considered “luck” to run into a funeral, not a wedding.

Yet, with Christmas season in tow, I saw 2 weddings this morning.

It’s peace-time Vietnam. The Wedding Hall is named “FOREVER“.

More optimistic in outlook now.

Fewer funerals, more weddings.

Less “reflections  of my life”, and more “accumulation of stuff”.

One thing is missing here: Black Friday shopping. That was because, American landed here back in 1965, Pleiku and not Plymouth. Hence  there was no Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. No turkey dinner. Just another weekend of laundry, coffee and a rare treat from the band. You can guess what they played here.

Yes, Reflections of My Life.  Take me to my own home (lyrics). Holden Caulfield got expelled from school. Not wanting to go back home just yet. Just ride the rail, the taxi, and anything that moves, with no particular stop in mind. The journey is the reward.

Memory of a flood

I jumped on the divan and sat in the middle of it, as far away from the rising water as possible. For a  3 year-old, the sight of water everywhere must be frightening. Water like what was brought in yesterday by the storm. Saigon was hit direct.

Trees toppled and treasure lost.

The French architect planned this Indochine admin city for less than 100,000. Now it caters to 10 million. Tu Xuong, Hoang Van Thu and Ky Hoa, all saw huge oaks fallen.

These oaks were like heroes of a thousand faces, stood firm to witness the changing of the guards.

I listened to the radio back in 1963. General after general making great claims just to be toppled by another.

Boom, bang.

The city was flooded not with  water, but waves of army men and women. Some from Australia, others Korea. What did they have to gain – showing off their Martial Art and weaponry ?

To lose?

Amerasian children later immigrated to the States.

They were accepted by neither society.

This land is our land, from California to the New York Island.

From sea to shiny sea. America America….?

Can’t even take care of your own, however illegitimate.

Don’t blame it on the controversial war.

When the GI had sex, he was just American as Apple Pie.

When Agent Orange was sprayed, the toxicity was traced back to DOW.

Just as American consumers are blaming Made-in-China dry-wall products.

Have you ever heard of RFID? We got the technology to scan, to search, to ID.

Come on!

Be brave. Clean it up and move on.

Just as people are doing all over this city now. Solve the big problem by divvying it up into smaller pieces. Make for good firewood.

The water is now receding. Life is back to normal i.e. noise, pollution and traffic jam. Yet people are happy to pack away their ponchos. Soldiers during war also packed away their ponchos. I saw them retreat (7th fleet). I saw people toss bags of  currency that were no longer of any value. I saw tears in the rain. Rain like yesterday once more. Rain like when I was growing up. Jumping right into the middle of the divan, hoping to stay clear of the rising water.

Memory of a flood, of rain, of tears and of separation.

Of loss and of despair. Water recedes, rain stops fallen, but tears still flow. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be pain. I know, I know, no pain no gain. But pain of your own choosing is different from imposed pain.

Ask the GI’s who fathered those Amerasians. They would rather forget than be reminded. Yet their Amerasian children are growing up, hopefully married and raising a family of their own. Their grandchildren will surely ask? Why do I look like this?

What event brought my parent here? Who and what did grandpa say if anything when met? How would he react? Shameful? Regretful? Forgetful? Memory of a flood. Memory of a war. Biological memory of humanity in the balance.