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ngày 19.01.15
ở vườn sau cụm hoa cúc màu vàng
đã úa rũ sau mấy ngày tuyết giá
nhìn hoa tàn lòng anh thương quá
dù là cuộc đời vốn dĩ sắc không
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Đăng trong mục Sáng Tác Mới, Thơ
ngày 16.01.15
Đăng trong mục Tranh Thơ
ngày 14.01.15
Đăng trong mục Tranh Thơ
ngày 8.01.15
Chúc mừng Năm Mới đến toàn thể độc giả, văn thi hữu và bằng hữu.
Thời gian cứ lặng lẽ đi tới một cách nhanh chóng, và đời sống cũng đẩy chúng ta đi cùng với thời gian.
Một năm đầy biến cố và lắm đau thương cho dân tộc Việt của chúng ta. Ách xâm lược của Trung cộng càng ngày càng lộ rõ nét, từ việc chúng mang đặt dàn khoan HD-981, xây dựng công trình quân sự kể cả sân bay, bến cảng trên các hải đảo chiếm đóng trong lãnh hải Việt Nam đến những khu vực đậu đen đậu đỏ trong khắp nước đòi tự trị đến kế hoạch thiết lập Viện Khổng Tử…
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Đăng trong mục Tùy Bút
ngày 5.01.15
Cuối thu trời trở lạnh
Cho lòng buồn miên man
Thương những người bất hạnh
Ở miền Trung Việt Nam
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Đăng trong mục Tập Thơ: Một Đời Tưởng Tiếc, Thơ
ngày 1.01.15
Mến Chúc Qúy Độc Giả, Bạn Hữu cùng Gia Quyến một năm an lành, thịnh vượng và tràn đầy hạnh phúc.
Wishing you all the happiness of the season
Peace and prosperity for the New Year
Đăng trong mục Nhạc
ngày 1.01.15
Đăng trong mục Tranh Thơ
ngày 21.12.14
Translated by Mai Tran
Deep in my thoughts while driving, the ringing of my cell phone startled me and shook my hands.
– Hi Daddy, it’s PQ here!
I was so happy to hear my son’s voice, the son from so far away.
He was just home a couple weeks ago for his cousin’s wedding.
Children, though adults, are always babies to their parents!
– How are you, son?
– I’m very well, dad. I’m a martial art guy, and a soldier, dad! His laugh got me to burst out laughing with him. He usually answered that way each time he was asked about his health. According to his mom, he got that humor from me. And also according to his mom, and perhaps to all the moms on this earth, any behavior, good or bad, of their sons – like hanging out with friends, more playing than studying, smoking, alcohol drinking – is inherited from their dad.
– Any news, or you just call to say hi?
– It’s both, dad.
– Anything serious, son?
– I am filling out my papers for Iraq! There is a form that requires your decision as I fill it out. The question is, “if I died in action, do you want the family to take care of the funerals, or you want the Army takes care of it with its own rituals?”
I felt a big lump in my throat and a sudden, sharp pain in my chest. I knew this was a standard form for all military men, but the emotion still shook my hands as I was writing out my son’s words. Though I was there myself, on the edge of life and death in the combat zone years ago; though I knew that my son, sooner or later, would be going to Iraq, I was still saddened and worried.
With questions such as, “are you worried that your son is in Iraq?”, I just calmly said, “Worrying doesn’t make things better; should accept whatever happens to a soldier’s fate” or “been there, in a more violent, more cruel war, and wasn’t even worried!” What I said was simply to keep the good spirit of his mom and his young siblings, to cover up the anxiety of the father in me in other people’s eyes. How could I not be worried? Perhaps being there myself would be less stressful! And my father! Each time a father’s role was put on the test, I was thinking of my own father. I have only one son in the army; my parents had three, and two other sons in the age of military service at home. How much I think of and love my parents now! In those years that I was still in school, my two older brothers in the army, many times I caught the worried look on my mom’s face when she listened to any news about fierce fights in combat zone where my older brothers stationed. And my father, always showing his calmness and courage, had spent long nights alone in the back yard, a cigarette between his fingers, looked in the dark and sighed heavily. Oh, dad, how much I feel your worries, your sadness and understand your helplessness at this very moment!
– Dad! Dad, do you hear what I’m saying, dad?
– Uh, uh… I… I don’t know. I was trying to find words and make some sense of the conversation with my son while my head was almost numb.
– There is one of two choices, either the family will take care of it or the army will do everything.
– I don’t know what your mom wants; as of me, I… I want…
A dark thought was flashing through my mind. What if… one day… Oh, my God! That’s horrible! What should I do? What could I do? I should take care of it. I should see him, look at his face, for the last time!
– I think … perhaps … the family should take care of it!?
– Is that your decision, dad?
– I really don’t know, son. Can you wait so I can get mom’s decision? I feel like crying!
– Would you hold on a minute, dad? I’ll ask my Sergeant if I can answer that question later, okay dad.
– All right, you ask him. Meanwhile I call mom and talk to her. I’ll call you back.
– Okay, dad.
I hung up the phone, still dazed with emotion! I called my wife at her office, recounting the dialogue between father and son. She quickly said, “there is nothing to think about, if our son were sacrificed in duty, then let the army do whatever should be done, we don’t really know what to do!” I wanted to share with her my feelings, my worried mind, but stopped short as I should try my best to act like a man of the family. I suddenly thought of my mom, and put the “life style, the way of thinking” of my parents in parallel with my wife’s and mine. My wife is very much like my mother. In other words, they both are braver, more courageous than their husbands! I sighed in consent and acceptance. Perhaps God has arranged in such a way that in a marriage one spouse would complement and support the other! I called “the soldier” back, told him about our decision to let the army “do it” and asked him when he would be leaving.
– I can’t tell you that, daddy. It’s confidential!
– Then, how do we know when to come and see you and send you off?
– You don’t have to, dad. Besides, I was just home two weeks ago.
– But… your kids’ sister and brother want to see you before you leave since you’ll go for a whole year.
– Then, may be, you and mom and the kids should come to Colorado by the end of September. That’s all I can say, nothing more!
– Whoa! That’s in two weeks! But, that’s ok. I decide that the family will come to visit you for a few days the last week of September. Would you arrange your schedule so you can spend some time with us?
– I certainly would, dad. This evening, I’ll email you the direction to my place.
Colorado in fall was beautiful! Interstate 25 North-South with twists and turns connects the city of Denver to the army base Fort Carson in Colorado Spring. More than 100 miles spread along hills and mountains. Many hillsides were covered with golden leaves! Fall made its presence in the cold morning air, in the clear blue sky with sheets of white clouds wandering through the thin silky sun rays, in mountain tops speckled with snow. From the warm, sometime oppressing hot weather of Houston to the crisp, cold air of Denver, from the flat land of Texas to the gorgeous hills of Colorado, how much I enjoyed this scenic drive and the beauty of the fall that fit my romantic soul, that my greedy eyes could embrace all, but the snowy winter.
I had lived for a short time in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and in Nashville, Tennessee. The snow had chased me out of these places and I ran without looking back to the warm sun of California like following an invisible calling. Perhaps it was a true calling to meet my wife. Like a flow of a river, life and work had brought my family to Houston, Texas for more a decade, a tenth of a century. Yes, I must use the word “century” as the ups and downs of my life seem such a long endurance.!
– Dad, do we need to check the map,why is it so far? My daughter asked.
– According to your brother’s direction, it’s still half hour to get there.
Though we just had him home recently, the entire family was very anxious to see him, especially the two youngsters. The two brothers and their sister are very close since their childhood. If one got into trouble, the two others tried vehemently to defend him or her. Like my own brothers and sisters, any of us is willing to sacrifice for the other siblings. Perhaps this family tradition had trickled down to my children.
I stopped the car at the security post at the entrance to the base. We were asked to get out and opened all doors, the hood, the trunk and suitcases. After 15 minutes check, we were let in with the instructions how to get to my son’s place. Another ten minutes driving, we arrived at a compound of a 4-story building. My son and his friends, male and female, were at the parking lot to greet our family.
The car door just opened, my two kids rushed out and embraced their older brother as if they haven’t seen him for years! I was saddened about the long months ahead… an entire year when my beloved son is in the combat zone, with all the dangers awaiting him. And very quickly, flashing through my mind were my own battlefields years ago, my soldier friends, some survived, some gone forever. Many unknown heroes and their families in the brothers- against-brothers war! Millions left their mother land, dispersed around the world, like errand souls. And more than fifty thousands American soldiers, who shed their blood, breathed their last breath on a strange country, no enemy to them. I turned away to hide my tears!
Some very young Asian female soldiers were present. When asked, I was told they are Korean and Chinese Americans, living in the same building with their male counterparts but on a different floor. They will also be sent to Iraq on the same flight with my son. How could this male-female co-habitation go peacefully, without incident, I was wondering. In the Tan Son Nhat military base in old Saigon, female soldiers were living separately, but numerous romantic and dramatic love stories still flourished.
– Do you guys have any “trouble” when staying in the same building like that? I asked.
– Nope. We have tough rules, daddy.
– Yeah right! I doubted.
– That’s true, dad..
– All right, kid. I believe you!
My son’s friends invited my family to dinner then went their own way. We had to wait in the parking lot as we were not allowed into his building to help him with his personal belongings that won’t be needed at his new destination. After half hour, my son carried two large suit cases to our car and we headed to our temporary lodging. Our family will be staying at the house of a close friend’s daughter in Colorado Springs, that I consider as my own niece.
– Hey, Phat, PQ’s unit will be deployed to Iraq beginning of next month. My family and I will be in Colorado to see him before he’s leaving. Give me Thao’s phone number so I can call her.
– How long PQ’s gone?
– One year.
– Yeah, same as Hung, Thao’s husband. He’s also gone for a year. Don’t worry, my man, the situation is not as bad as the media sounds like.
– I know. Same as the Vietnam war! Our defeat was caused by those gadflies, and the “living-room-politicians,” especially the chicken Democrats.
– Would you tell PQ I wish him a safe trip!
– Yes, I will.
– Okay. You can stay with Thao. Her house is near the military base. She live in that huge house, too big for herself. Thao told me that PQ often came and had dinner with her.
– Sure, I’ll talk to your baby girl about that.
His baby girl Thanh Thao has the same age as our refugee years. At the end of April 1975, the one year old girl with hair tresses, fat cheeks and a pair of round, black eyes, crying and clinging to her mom, following her dad out of the military compound amid the enemy’s gunfire. With a doctorate degree now, she has a good job, lives alone in a big house and each day is waiting in suspense for news from an army lieutenant husband in Iraq, thousand of miles away in a land where friends and enemies look alike. My heart aches thinking of the soldiers’ wives and their hard life in my old country. Thao, at least, has a comfortable life, a nice house, a well paid job, and lives in a rich, free, and secure country.
Thanh Thao’s father was my buddy the very first days of our military life. Both of us enlisted the same time, served in the same unit, took the same foreign language class, assigned to the same squadron, and played in the same volley ball team. At his wedding, I was his best man. When Saigon collapsed into the enemies’ hands, we both ran for our lives, stayed in the same refugee camp, and were sponsored by the same church. We both started our first job working for a construction worker whom we met at church the first Sunday mass when we were out of the refugee camp. Then we both became farm workers for some time. The only unsimilar thing between the two of us was perhaps that Phat had a family and I was a single guy wandering around alone for a long while. Life took us into different direction then brought us back to live not far from each other. I don’t know how much he loves me, but I love him and consider him one of my own brothers. And little Thao, I care for her tremendously as she is the living image of the ups and downs of our refugee life. Each time I looked at her, a movie filled with joyful memories as well as days of hardship was unraveling in my mind.
Before my trip to Colorado, I phoned Thao and was told that she’d be in Houston for a wedding during the time we were in Colorado Springs. But Thao insisted that we’d stay in her house for all the convenience it offers, especially “it’s right next door” to the military base and “free of charge!”
– And by the way, uncle, you would give me a big help, an important one!
– What is it, dear?
– I just got a new lawn, would you open the sprinkler and water it for me, and my potted plants, also?
* * *
From the military base to Thanh Thao’s house, it was a good half hour drive, and she said “it’s right next door!” From interstate 25 to the east, construction developments are sprouting along the way with multi-story buildings, large shopping mall, and housing subdivisions, especially at Carrefour of large main streets…
We arrived at Thanh Thao’s home, a beautiful, brand new house with still fresh painting in a new subdivision. Entering the foyer, I found a hand-written note on the counter:
“Dear uncle and auntie, when you are here, I’m on my way to Houston for my friend’s wedding. I’m so sorry not to be at home to personally greet you and my cousins. Please make yourself at home. Please consider my home as your own. I just got some new sets of towels and toiletries in the bathrooms intended for your use. The fridge was already stocked with food and the necessary groceries for you so you have the time to enjoy with your family and especially with PQ. I also got you, uncle, some beer. No cigarette as I don’t want to encourage you with this unhealthy habit. Don’t worry about my lawn and flower beds around the house as I already asked my neighbor to take care of them. If you felt “jobless” (a happy face winking here) then you have to negotiate with the old man next door! I ‘m just asking you to water the plants inside the house. Have a happy stay!
Your little girl, Thao”
I was very touched by her thoughtful care, and felt a tremendous love towards the little girl that I’ve watched growing up to be a successful young woman, Her house was furnished and decorated with simplicity and good taste. PQ said he has helped her with his artsy ideas…
We discussed with the kids about dinner and what we would be doing for the night. We decided to spend the time at home for comfort. After dinner, PQ and his friends including four female soldiers and all my kids gathered in the large but cozy living room to play games and drink beers without restrain. This joyful scene reminded me of my soldier’s years in VN decades ago. The kids continued their fun until the first hours of the next day. Some left to go home; some stayed and slept in the living room.
Early morning, I tried to get the kids up to take advantage of the beautiful morning. While PQ and his friends discussing through cell phone about the plan of the day, I went out and watered the yard. A middle aged white man next door came by and asked if I were Thao’s uncle. He said he came to water the lawn but I already did. We strucked a friendly conversation and he kept praising Thao with nice words that made me so proud of her.
I finished breakfast in the kitchen. Moments later PQ’s friends came and all decided to join other friends at the entrance of interstate 25 and go to Six Flags Park in Denver. I looked up at the clock: It was almost 12 noon! My wife and I were very happy to let the kids decide where to go, what to do so they could have the most fun before PQ’s departure.
Four cars fully loaded headed for the freeway. After almost 100 miles drive, we arrived at the park at 2 pm. I suggested to my wife to drop the kids there for their fun time. They would call us to pick them up later. I called .NguyÅn Mai, NguyÅn Minh Hoàng, Ðoàn Sáu, my friends of life-and-death-together from old days that I haven’t seen for so long; they would be happy with our surprised visit. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get any of them but their voice mail, so my wife and I drove around town to visit Denver.
Downtown Denver is like any downtown of large cities in the US: tall buildings, beautifully decorated shops, large streets, lots of traffic. The marvelous weather attracted large groups of walkers, strolling leisurely under the gorgeous sun, which was like a thin, gigantic sheet of canary yellow silk floating through large green branches of trees lining the streets. A soft breeze caressed my face and blew in the air some safran-color leaves that came rested peacefully on the ground like a perfect painting of nature. 16th street in downtown is such a beautiful street, with electric cars running on the sides of the street, and a park like in the middle with lots of shady spots from tall, large trees. It was bustling with people taking a promenade along the many kiosks selling souvenir cards, gift items, artistic jewelries like in Las Vegas, downtown San Francisco or the French Quarter in New Orleans. A rock band offered cheerful music, adding a nice note to the animation of the area. Passers by dropped in the box appreciative coins and dollar bills and smiles to the street musicians.
We walked a few blocks, enjoyed the crowd and admired the paintings. We stopped at a café packed with customers, ordered a cup of coffee, and sat lazily at a table near the door to look at passers by. I felt so relaxed, so peaceful! If every day life could be as such, there would be no stress, no stepping on each other’s toes, no fighting in order to survive!
We drove back home at almost 9:00 pm. PQ took his siblings out with friends and we stayed home to watch TV. I would prefer taking part in the kids’ activities since PQ will soon depart for Iraq for the entire year. But I knew the kids would enjoy each other more without the presence of their parents. A crazy idea that the worst could happen to PQ one day flashed through my mind and made me really nervous!
The kids came home after 1:00 am. They apologized to us, still awake waiting for them, and went to bed. Though I usually felt asleep easily, I just turned and tossed in my bed, obsessed by the imaginary battlefield thousands of miles away where my beloved son would be exposed to storms of gunfires and other dangers in a strange land.
I must have drifted into sleep not for long then it was already day time. The kids were still in bed. I went out to the yard to water the lawn, my heart heavy with complex feelings. I thought of my own parents who didn’t have a day without worrying about their three sons in three different killer-combat-zones! I remembered my dad who sat silently and stoically all day long when the news reached home that my older brother had died and heroically paid his debt towards our country. I felt goose bumps all over my body, my eyes clouded with tears! Were those tears for the spirit of my dad, or were they actually for me?
* * *
No matter how much you want to hang around, the time to say goodbye to the soldier has come! PQ asked a friend to drive him to the airport so he could say good bye to us before we boarded the plane to go home. But, at the airport I had to return the rental car, then rushed to the gate so not to miss my flight, and PQ had to involve his friends to follow us to the airport. Why much a do for not much a farewell, only to prolong the pain of our separation. I tried to analyze and explain that to PQ and he reluctantly embraced and kissed us good bye!
The sun rays were of a canary yellow tone and soft like a very thin sheet of silk nonchalantly posed on top of bushes along the freeway. It was so silent in the car we could hear a pin drop! Through the mirror, I looked at my two young kids sitting in the back seat and I saw tears in their eyes. My wife was very calm and I would like to think she had more courage than I did at that moment – I felt my heart melting. The 100 mile stretch that I drove up and down a few times seemed much longer now, and we all knew why!
The American soldiers had left the Vietnam combat zone in pain, sadness, and humiliation more than three decades ago. I hope my son and hundreds of thousand American soldiers would not be betrayed and sold off cheap by the living-room-politicians, or the irresponsible media at home. I hope they all will come home soon from Iraq in the glory of victory and the pride and joy of the whole nation.
Translation by Mai Tran
Translated by Hương Cau Cao Tân Canada
I was driving and thinking vaguely on the way to school when suddenly the ringing of the cellular phone startled me and caused me to sway the driving wheel:
– Daddy, oh Daddy, it’s me, PQ!
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Đăng trong mục Short Story
ngày 8.12.14
Nếu thấy thu buồn nơi đất khách
Có nghĩa đời mình đã xanh rêu
Thu đã về nhuộm vàng cành lá
Sương thu rơi điểm trắng mái đầu
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Đăng trong mục Sáng Tác Mới, Thơ
ngày 4.12.14
Thì thôi như áng mây bay
Dựa lưng nỗi nhớ, đốt ngày phù vân
Dư hương bờ mộng, bến trần
Còn khua nhịp thở như gần như xa
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Đăng trong mục Thơ
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