Three days before I left for Vietnam, I finally got a hold of Lynn, my father’s close friend from Vietnam who I was raised to know as my aunt. It wasn’t until after his death that I found out that she wasn’t my father’s sister. It’s incredible how complicated it can be to track peopleRead more
The moon is hanging big and low in the sky over the Auckland horizon as I fly into the city. A reddish gold color I often think of when picturing the night sky in the East. Fitting, I think with a smile. Maybe a good sign, too. I try to keep my eyes on itRead more
There’s something about returning to a place you’ve already traveled to that gives it more weight. We don’t go back to places that bore us, places that don’t excite us in some way. We go back because we are looking for more. With this often comes great expectations. With less than two days left beforeRead more
My father immigrated to the United States in or around 1980. The Vietnam War was over and he found himself on the losing side of long, bitter and terrible fight. After spending time in a Malaysian refugee camp, he found asylum first in France, then in Sacramento, California and finally in Reno, Nevada. I wasRead more