Here in Maryland (1)

I don’t have any memories coming into the U.S., just ones supplied gratuitously by my relatives. I never heard them from my parents. Probably because it wasn’t the most pleasant experience for them. After all, we did land in the nation’s capital. I can imagine the shell shock coming into a beautiful city like Washington D.C. From all the Federal buildings to the museums, they were a huge contrast to the dilapidated buildings back in Saigon. Not only that, the people were very different. Hardly any Vietnamese or even Asians on the street. The only ones they saw, we the same ones being bus’d to the immigration building. From what my aunt and uncle repeatably tell me, it was there where I put my parents through a horrible time.

We were all in a large room, a government room. Sterile, yet dusty, it spanned about a fifty square feet, enough to hold over a hundred Vietnamese immigrants waiting to be processed. The chairs were plastic with shiny metal legs, blue seats, curved, possibly to fool people that they were comfortable. My dad sat reading through forms with my brothers tied by mortification from something they shouldn’t have done. My mom stood holding me.

She was bouncing me up and down, trying to get me to stop crying, staring around the room.

There were several things going through her mind. First and foremost, were the people. Everyone was Vietnamese yet she knew no one except for our immediate family. She worked at a U.S. military office back in Saigon. So it wasn’t much of a change seeing foreigners behind the desk. But here, they were citizens and we, we were the foreigners. It really hadn’t sank in completely that she was away in a completely foreign place. That is, until she saw her first African American. A large black lady behind one of the counters and behind her were even more. they stood around talking and laughing in the background. She had seen them on TV but never before in person. Nothing but the common stereotypes ran through her head. The stories of how obnoxious and rude they were in the army. The way they strutted and the way they talked. Jive talked if you learned everything from television. That was all she knew. She stood mesmerized. Still as a deer in headlights. And then, according to my wonderful aunt, I broke her out of her spell. In a loud and smelly way. Like a plug that popped open, I soiled my diaper.

My mom sighed and brought me to the rest room. She changed me and came back out.

Typical mom thing right? Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, I should mention this story had become family folk lore and brought up many times, especially when I get a stomach ache and have to hit the can while either my aunt or uncle are in the vicinity.

I’d always get a laugh then, “As long as it’s not as bad as that time…”

The time my mom changed me and a minute later, I went again. And again. Three times and I exhausted all the diapers. I mean, my mom had alot of things to carry, and that should have been more than enough diapers. No one knew I was born with super human powers. My mom had to fashion a makeshift diaper out of a shirt. That must have pissed me off. Because for some reason, the last one blew through onto my mom’s dress. Oh, I guess I forgot to mention, my mom wore a dress. A nice dress. That long slim traditional Vietnamese dress people wear on special occasions. Coming to America was apparently one of them. Being part of a natural disaster should have been another.

I figure this must have caused a scene.

She ran to the rest room to clean up. Kept my butt in the sink under the running water. My younger aunt came in with a change of clothes for my mom. She changed and threw away the dress and again, according to my aunt, they stayed there and kept me in the sink. They were out of things to change me into. They didn’t want to sacrifice another garment for my unholy butt. And my mom was too furious to cater to my comforts. The sink was good enough. And who needs diapers, or pants even. This was where it probably started. Anyways, more about that later. This was really the start of my mayhem my mom had to endure.

In any village, people knew one another pretty well. From the time people were young to when they were old, a village was like going to elementary school, learning from older people, making friends, sharing memories, and never quite leaving. You have your enemies and you have your friends. There’s a common courtesy you have among the people. The cordial greetings and the helpful hand. These were all givens. Expected behavior. In fact, it’s in your best interest to do good things because these are people you see everyday. In that room, on the other hand, weren’t people from our village. Strangers, only similar by skin color and facial features. All sharing a lost country and stuck in the same circumstances. Yet, this was all my people needed. You’d hear all about it in later times. Stories of Vietnamese refuges strengthening each other to overcome the odds of escaping. Carrying one another out of times of poverty sharing food, clothing, and shelter. These were all countrymen striving to keep the yellow and red striped flag alive in our hearts. And those stories would dwarf anything coming out of a cramped immigration lobby rest room, let alone a little child’s butt.

However, this was the part that everyone but my grandmother left out. Mainly because it wasn’t funny. And it was something only a grandmother can tell you and have the proper effect.

We probably stayed in the rest room for an hour. My mom was making sure I had everything out. I was told I didn’t mind, I slid around bare against the smooth porcelain sink. I was laughing, and yes, I was clean. Remember, this was all a precautionary measure. But then there was a knock and a lady came in. She brought some diapers to my mom and gave it to her. And what was astonishing, was it was a stranger, not even Vietnamese. It was the black lady she was staring at. She had seen the whole incident and must have gotten the diapers for us, knowing we couldn’t leave. She smiled and said a few things that my mom could barely understand as “Take these, they are for you.” I know if this were some television show, this would be that defining moment where the main character shatters their wrongful thoughts and does a 180 turn after the commercial break. Not exactly so. This was reality. It was a tiny move in the right direction. My mom’s first lesson, a pleasant one, in the new reality we were registering for. I can only picture in her mind, a light bulb sparking in front of a door labeled, “misconceptions”. A place to visit. A place to re-evaluate subjects. A place to redefined what Vietnamese meant. Mainly because we weren’t in our village anymore.

The Three Wisemen

Fall is about the best time to be in Maryland. That is, after surviving the last few weeks of September. The heat and humidity are just unbearable. Seeking shade in that sort of weather is unbearable. But come October, the weather just flips a switch and the area becomes beautiful. Weather forecasts were no longer filled with days of scattered thunderstorms. It was just partly cloudy skies with a gentle breeze coming from the north. Temperature may be a bit chilly, but that was usually in the morning. The sun would soon warm things up to a comfortable level by noon. By this time too, the foliage changed as well. Red, brown, and orange leaves were popping up everywhere. Being blessed with so many trees, the state just becomes one big postcard that you get to drive through. It’s simply amazing.

Today was one of those days. It was a perfect day to do a little fresh water fishing. And there we were just me, my buddy and brother in-law Kent, and my little nephew Nicholas along the Potomac River. The river is notorious for under currents. So the calm placid flow you see at the top hides one dramatic current underneath.

I hold Nicholas back. “Don’t go too far in, it’s dangerous.”

His oversized rubber boots flopping clumsily through the water finally stopped. He just looked up at me, pulling back his cap to make eye contact with me. In the sunlight, his light brown eyes shown like a set of marbles I used to play with. He doesn’t talk too much. Just imitating us in a clumsy and cute way, returning a grin every time we watched him. He definitely got his smile from his dad, my oldest brother. Out of all seven of us, his laughter was the most unique. You didn’t even need to hear the joke to laugh. Once you hear him laugh you’d laugh along. Just seeing his smile on his kids face makes me hear his laugh in my mind.

I put my tackle box down. Nicholas put his little lunch box down. He looked up at me and smiled. We were standing side by side in about five inches of water. The smooth rounded rocks underneath are feet shuffled under our weight.

“Good,” I told him. “Just keep an eye on that.”

Again he nodded.

Kent came up next to us, on the other side of Nicholas. He wobbled Nicholas head causing him to readjust his hat.

“Ready to fish my man?” asked Kent.

Again he nodded.

We all took out our fishing rod and started assembly. Kent and I knelt down and went through our tackle boxes. We both had every type of weight and hook. Any type of tool that you needed for fishing we had in our tackle box. A bit rusty and dirty, but they did the job. Looking over at Nicholas, he was doing the same thing, but with his lunch box. A sandwich, corn on the cob, and a juice box weren’t your normal fishing supplies.

I set up the hook and weight for Nicholas and brought out the bait, night crawlers.
“Nice, but you think he’s scared.” Kent stated the obvious as Nicholas hid behind his leg.

“He’ll have to deal with it at some time.” I told Kent. I turn to Nicholas and ask him carefully. “Do you want to put this on your hook?”

He shook.

“It’s easy. I’ll show you.”

As I hook the worm Nicholas hid again. I give Kent a hopeless look, but he just shrugged.

“The kid hates it.”

“You want me put it on for you?”

He shook.

“It’s just a worm.”

He shook.

I throw my hands up in surrender. My head drops and I stare at he water passing underneath my feet. The sunlight sparkled in the water. You could see the dark gray rocks under the water. A better view of them could be seen under the little shadow cast by Nicholas’s lunch box.

“So what do you want to put on your hook?”

We watch as Nicholas came around Kent surveying the boxes. His eyes steered clear of the bag of night crawlers in my hand. He walked up to my box and saw the imitation lures and cringed. He didn’t even touch them. Just hovered over the box, moving his head around to look through the box. He was like a living top gyrating back and forth making us wonder when he was going to topple over.

I grabbed the banana scented fake lure. “How about we start with this one.”

The shiny and wiggling lure probably reminded him of the night crawlers, because he made face and did what I was getting used to.

He shook.

By now he made it over to his own lunch box. He looked through it. Not much in there. But then he looked at me and smiled. I felt the warm delight of his smile once again. It fought off the restlessness that was brewing. He pointed down at his corn.

“Corn?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Corn it is. Not sure what you’re going to catch with just corn.”

“Corn is a remarkable crop you know.” Kent started.

He’s always been that guy filled knowledge, useless knowledge. Anytime there was trivia night at the local bar, he would always leave victorious. And of course, that always meant a trip to Best Buy the next day to spend that twenty-five dollar gift certificate. Which of course, meant movie night at my condo. I love hosting get together. The wife loves to cook and I love hanging out with my friends. It used to be out on the town, but I guess with married life, we just moved the venue home. I mean you can’t get to hear Kent’s knowledgeable stories over the blasting music. It’s simply impossible, let alone out of place. The funny thing though, is it’s pretty ironic that this guy knows so much about everything, but knows so little about his own job. We work at the same company but he’s always coming to me for help. Computer networks must be his bane. But I have to say I’m quite the opposite. I know everything about computer networks but not about anything else. I guess that’s why we’ve been friends for so long.

“It’s used in so much food. You’d be surprised by the number of foods that have some sort of corn by product.”

I give Kent a smirk as he knows, that I know, that he’s about to dive into his Discovery Channel mode. It’s a welcomed thing when it comes to fishing.

I pluck a kernel off the ear of corn and fashion it on Nicholas’s hook.

“Obviously, it’s used in that high fructose corn syrup. You can’t imagine how much corn is used to make that stuff. In any case, it’s the amount of sugar your body consumes when you have something with it. Something I think you should be aware of.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked as I hand Nicholas his fishing rod.

“Dude, you’ve always been the most fit guy throughout high school. Even through college. But now, man, look at your belly. I bet you’d be out of breath if you ran ten yards.”

“Uncle Kent talks a lot doesn’t he?” I say to Nicholas.

He nodded.
“Watch how I cast. Hold the line with your index finger and open up the spindle like this.” I wait until Nicholas does the same thing, before continuing. “Now carefully bring the rod behind you like this. Watch out for the hook. You don’t want to get snagged by that. Now, when you flick it, you have to remember to let go of your index finger.” I give the rod a little flick of the wrist and watch my cast sail out into the water.

Nicholas tries and successfully casts his line straight down in front of him two feet away.

“It’s OK,” I tell him. “Remember to let go when you flick. It’s about timing.”

Kent went on with his lecture as we watched Nicholas try again. “Maybe it’s the beer.”

“Oh, I think it’s definitely the beer.”

“Can’t get enough of it eh?”

“Yeah, it taste so good when it touches you lips.” I try to mimic Will Farrell from the movie Old School. It must have worked because Kent laughed.

“I hear ya.” Kent went on. “But if you and my sister are thinking about kids, you all should think about your health.”

“True, but it’s not about my belly.”

“It’s not about that, it’s about the drinking.”

I knew what he was getting at. It’s just hard to do with everyone that comes over. They all still want to drink. As a good host, it’s hard not to join in. Reliving good old times with good friends is best served with a nice cold beverage.

Nicholas gives me a tug on my shirt. I look down and he’s holding his fishing rod for me.

“You want me to cast it for you?”

He nodded.

I cast the corn lure out to the middle of the river. I couldn’t help but laugh as the corn kernel flew through the air. Maybe he’ll catch a vegetarian fish.

“Hold on tight OK? You never know when a fish will bite.”

He nodded.

I look over at Kent who shared the same amusement.

“I know we’re always drinking with you, but you could drink something else,” he suggested.

“Naw man, it’s cool, it’s just drinking,” I shrug it off. “I’m fine.”

“Seriously man.”

“I know your looking out for your sis and me, but I’ll tone it down.”

I put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him. It’s a little too serious for us at that moment and we had to laugh. Nicholas looked up at us wondering what we were laughing at. We’ve had serious talks before, definitely, during fishing, but this one was different. I know drinking is a bit more of a show. You can say it’s a show of masculinity or something for me. He was right. I could be healthier these days.

“Maybe we should switch to wine.” Kent said.

“How about this.” I figure we both could win from this. “First one to catch a fish determines what we drink tonight.”

Kent thought about a second, more for dramatic effect than actual thought, “We’re on.”

As luck would have it, the fish bite at that very moment. It was just like what you see on TV, a two footer jumping out of the water. I swore it was in slow motion. Water droplets suspended around the fish. The scales dazzled like a disco ball under the bright sun. It was amazing but most of all, it wasn’t my catch. It wasn’t even Kent’s. It was Nicholas’s. He stood there fighting strong and unmoving. We then helped him reel in his catch, laughing as he let out his dad’s laugh. Usually this size of a catch would be tough for a little kid to pull in, but it was much more difficult with three people laughing their asses off. Every sound Nicholas made laughing made us erupt in laughter, which made him laugh even more. A perpetual cycle that was only broken when we feel down.

Oh we were soaked. But it didn’t matter. You couldn’t ask for Nicholas’s first catch to be any better than that. And yeah you guess it. We spent that night watching Sunday night football, having Vietnamese fish wraps, and washing it down with ice-cold orange juice. And no, there was no Vodka in them. No cold cans of beer in sight. Just Nicholas sitting there in his rubber boots swinging his feet under the chair with a big smile.