Long Ago....
Long before there was life, love, and food in my America, there was Ha Tinh, a city in the northern provinces of Central Viet Nam where my father is from.
A very famous song, which is an ode to Ha Tinh, says that no matter where you go, you will always remember and think about Ha Tinh. This is my father's favorite song. He sings it aloud in his northern dialect whenever he is happy or whenever he wants to show us that he is happy.This is the song that I know I would have playing over the loudspeakers at my father's funeral service someday (faraway I hope) as I stand alone and eulogize him. There it is, I have never said this to anyone before. The thought of it makes me so sad and already I feel at loss for more words; depleted of all thoughts.
My father, on record, was born on January 5th, in the year 1930. If this were true, he was born on a Sunday in Ky-Anh, a town in the central provinces connecting the north to the south of Viet Nam. About 200 miles south of Hanoi, Ky-Anh, a district of Nghe Tinh, one of the least attractive places in Viet Nam according to residents that have come and gone. Being born in the central provinces, he was among those called nguoi trung, meaning a central person, compare to let's say a northern person or a southern person. And believe me, there was a huge difference in the people and their provinces those days.
Born in a land where houses were made of mud and thatch, surrounded by barren landscapes and fields unable to grow rice or usable crops, my father's life was hard from the start. His family was poverty stricken. He had an older sister and two older brothers; a younger brother died early of disease and malnourishment- life was bleak. My father never received a single day's worth of formal education growing up; he never once stepped foot in a school. Basically raised by his mother, my father worked various odds and ends jobs to make a living.
"I was a handsome boy though" he has told us kids many times when reminiscing. He also tells me that my oldest son is the spitting image of himself when he was young. This makes me proud for my father is not a man of many words, or of many personal thoughts. Knowing this is very heart-warming to me and I try to convey the feelings to my son; there is so much to tell my children about their grandfather. And NO, mother, nothing bad, only the truth!
A very famous song, which is an ode to Ha Tinh, says that no matter where you go, you will always remember and think about Ha Tinh. This is my father's favorite song. He sings it aloud in his northern dialect whenever he is happy or whenever he wants to show us that he is happy.This is the song that I know I would have playing over the loudspeakers at my father's funeral service someday (faraway I hope) as I stand alone and eulogize him. There it is, I have never said this to anyone before. The thought of it makes me so sad and already I feel at loss for more words; depleted of all thoughts.
My father, on record, was born on January 5th, in the year 1930. If this were true, he was born on a Sunday in Ky-Anh, a town in the central provinces connecting the north to the south of Viet Nam. About 200 miles south of Hanoi, Ky-Anh, a district of Nghe Tinh, one of the least attractive places in Viet Nam according to residents that have come and gone. Being born in the central provinces, he was among those called nguoi trung, meaning a central person, compare to let's say a northern person or a southern person. And believe me, there was a huge difference in the people and their provinces those days.
Born in a land where houses were made of mud and thatch, surrounded by barren landscapes and fields unable to grow rice or usable crops, my father's life was hard from the start. His family was poverty stricken. He had an older sister and two older brothers; a younger brother died early of disease and malnourishment- life was bleak. My father never received a single day's worth of formal education growing up; he never once stepped foot in a school. Basically raised by his mother, my father worked various odds and ends jobs to make a living.
"I was a handsome boy though" he has told us kids many times when reminiscing. He also tells me that my oldest son is the spitting image of himself when he was young. This makes me proud for my father is not a man of many words, or of many personal thoughts. Knowing this is very heart-warming to me and I try to convey the feelings to my son; there is so much to tell my children about their grandfather. And NO, mother, nothing bad, only the truth!
posted by cream cheese dreams at 9:35 PM
2 Comments:
Keep posting!!! Look out for Number ONE son!!!
Number ONE son and number ONE brother!!
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