Trump goes wild; life is backward; smoked out of tennis

Is Trump for real?  We get U.S. news in Vietnam by watching CNN, BBC, and France 24, and all three networks carried these stories this week: Trump disputes climate change report; Trump blames forest mismanagement for the California wildfires; Trump stands by Saudis regarding the murder of Jamal Khashoggi; Trump wants to restrict military service by transgender people; Trump threatens to close southern border with Mexico. Fake news? I don't think so. Fake president? Sadly, no. I'm not a political person even though I have a house in Yellow Springs. I don't usually get too riled up about politics unless something egregious takes place. Trump is egregious ... in his behavior, comments and policies. It's difficult to watch from afar, knowing the respect and reputation of the United States has diminished around the world.

* * *

I think our lives are backward. We should have children when we're old so we can use the maturity, experience and wisdom we've gained through the years to become more effective and understanding parents. I realize there are some practical issues with this philosophy. I was young and full of energy when I had children. I needed that youth and energy to keep up with my kids. But I didn't have the wisdom and maturity to raise them as well as they should have been raised. Some folks are ready to raise children when they're young. I wasn't one of them. and most of us aren't.  My ex-wife is an exception and was wise and committed beyond her years; she did so much more than her share. Hence, ex-wife. Also, I enjoyed a drink or six when I was younger. And the night was always young although the next morning was extremely old. I mention all this because I had a child with my second wife at age 61.  (No, I was 61 and my wife was 38.) My energy level is nothing like it was at age 29, but my wisdom and maturity have grown to the point where my patience and parenting skills have clearly improved. My daughter Joanna seems to appreciate her focused dad. We finish every day with a dance to "Green Rocky Road" by an obscure band called Creation (with Felix Pappalardi), and then Joanna is off to bed repeating "daddy do tai chi, daddy do tai chi." I've encouraged reading and it has paid off. Joanna is 28 months old and can say the alphabet with ease, count to 30 with ease, recognize countless animals, and identify her shapes and colors. And the first thing she does when she wakes up in the morning or from her nap is open her books and pretend to read, using the pictures as cues. I'm not trying to brag on her because that's boring and self-serving, but I want to stress that an older dad can teach his child to learn more (and often better) than a younger dad because old farts like me have been through so much. I know grandparents can provide these lessons, but a dad's influence on his child is unparalleled because he should be there most of the time, and after all, he's dad. Many circumstances are different for me now than 30 years ago. My job isn't the center of my universe like it was in my 20s, 30s and 40s. These days, I try to be an excellent teacher, but clearly there's a more sensible balance between work and family. I'll also say that having a baby in my 60's has forced me to focus on fitness and clean living. I used to smoke cigarettes but I wouldn't touch one now. I was a heavy drinker, but now I'm Mr. Moderation. My diet is also slightly more conservative. I still love spicy food, but I take it relatively easy on the grease and fats. My wife has been a blessing through this entire process, and she's also been a catalyst. Phuong encourages my tai chi practice, and my nightly ritual of tai chi lasts well over an hour.
Unlike self-actualized people, I have regrets and wish I had done things differently in the past, mainly because my actions affected others. But I plod along these days and do the best that I can. There's no Benjamin Button in real life (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a movie starring Brad Pitt in which the main character ages in reverse). We don't start old and wise, and get younger. We're more like Benjamin Buttheads, starting out young and stupid but thinking we know it all, and then getting old, decrepit and regretful.

* * *

Daily trash burning at Dong Nai Square has curtailed my tennis schedule. Like Roger Federer, I'm cutting back. Phuong and I only play twice a week now at the police court after we had to put up with trash fires on three consecutive trips to Dong Nai Square. Locals don't care, but I won't exercise where there's burning plastic, paper, leaves and Styrofoam. No doubt this will affect my ranking, but I felt compelled to take a stand somewhere.

Park gets cleaned up; more tennis disruptions; adapting

I have good news to report about the park where I take Joanna five times a week. The litter has almost disappeared after police posted a sign threatening to fine people who throw their trash in the park. A rancid smell still emanates from the open sewer and river overflow canal that runs along the park, but there is very little litter in the park itself. It looks good. The White Monkey has always tried to do his part, picking up and discarding litter in the one and only trash can that's located near the security hut. If I'm too far away from the trash can, I'll put the litter I collect in trash piles near the street. Hopefully, these piles are picked up by the sanitation crews, which come by frequently. The streets near the park are still trashy as hell, and I've got the pictures to prove it. In fact, I've posted some here and on Facebook. But the park's condition has dramatically improved. A clean park is crucial because Joanna takes off her shoes the moment I look away. It's a struggle to keep shoes on Joanna, who's very determined and has a strong personality. On some issues she'll acquiesce, but when Joanna makes up her mind, she'll go to war with you. Some adults point in horror at her bare feet, and then try to tweak her cheek with their filthy hands. I don't let strangers get too close to Joanna here, especially after some creepy creep tried to kiss her and pick her up. Joanna doesn't like to be handled by strangers anyway. Who does? She'll let my friend/student Sam pick her up, but other than Sam it's pretty much family only.

* * *

Tennis remains a challenging activity here. We play at two different locations -- the courts next to Dong Nai Square and a court at the police station. At Dong Nai Square, trash is regularly burned next to where we play. At the police station,  high-powered saws are occasionally used next to our court to cut sheets of metal. We switched to another court at Dong Nai so the smoke is somewhat less intrusive. At the police station, we play later in the day and under the lights after the chain gang has gone home. That means we eat dinner late and extend Joanna's bed time. It's a little bit of a hassle, but life goes on. Phuong, having lived her entire life in Bien Hoa, rolls with the disruptions, danger and dirtiness. The crazy driving (she's had three accidents since I've knowm her), the line cutting, and the littering are no big deal to my wife. It's what she's used to. The White Monkey admittedly still can't accept this stuff. I've adapted to some degree but I make too big of a display in public about how my daughter throws her trash in a trash can -- and she's only 28 months old. I have no solution to line cutting yet. Going everywhere with my wife and Joanna seems to slow down the line-cutters, but some people just don't care. Ultimately, I try to minimize my shopping.

* * *

My life and mood have improved significantly here since I put myself under limited house arrest. No more motorbike riding is wonderful. Sometimes, student/friend Sam will give me a ride to a coffee shop near our house, but otherwise I travel by taxi and walking.  I enjoy riding a motorbike, but not where people ignore all rules of the road (and sidewalk) and think nothing of hitting and running. The coffee shops I go to for sweets and reading are very close to the house. I've read 10 Jack Vance books since August, and I'm in the process of reading the last three I have in Vietnam. I ordered three more online and I'll pick those up and buy a few more when I return to the U.S. next year for eye care.

* * *

I cracked the screen cover on my cell phone three times in the past three weeks, one time ruining the screen and disabling my cell phone. Phuong, who's the most patient person I know -- and not just because she's married to me -- got the phone fixed three times, buying a thick, protective case the third time. When I'm not with my wife and daughter, I have to have music in my ear and a book in my hand.

Sweet treats; more signs of aging; we're losing good folk

A local shop that specializes in imported fruits and sweets has been especially sweet to our daughter Joanna. The owner of the shop, which is named Cat Tuong -- the name of the owner's daughter -- provides some kind of treat for Joanna nearly every time we visit. I go there primarily to buy oatmeal, oranges and raisins. Joanna enjoys the fruit. In fact, she enjoys anything that has sugar in it, and she can say candy in several languages. The folks at Cat Tuong might slip her some raisins, or a cookie, or a tangerine. The store is pricey, but most stores here that provide fruits like navel oranges, blueberries and strawberries are all pricey. Cat Tuong sells Russian chocolates with liquor inside, but they're mediocre and stupid expensive. The airport sells quality chocolate with decent liquor inside, but you need an airline ticket to buy the chocolates. I'll buy some once or twice a year. Anyway, Joanna and I visit Cat Tuong once a week on our walk. The store is close to a coffee shop we also visit. Here, Joanna eats a packet of sugar and a piece of coffee cheesecake, which is awesome. Maybe it's the heat, but Phuong, Joanna and I love our sugar. I never used to have a sweet tooth, but now Phuong and I have chocolate and half a beer every night. I crave chocolate more than ever.

* * * 

Sometimes, I actually forget how old I'm getting. Thank God I have encroaching baldness to remind me I'm heading toward the final frontier. I was looking at some recent family photos and saw that my hairline is no longer receding; it's in full retreat and preparing to surrender. I guess there's technology that combats baldness, but I'm a natural guy. Maybe I'll do an ear hair comb-over. Or let my eyebrows grow out. Don't mind me; I'm just brainstorming in print. Not acting my age almost cost me twice in tennis on Saturday. I was unable to apply the brakes in time and ran into a wall while chasing a ball that I couldn't catch up to. Another time, Phuong hit behind me and I "tweaked" my ankle while trying to stop on a dime, provide nine cents change, and make the return. I completely missed the ball on my return attempt and my ankle buckled, but I kept playing. I compete like I'm young but perform like I'm old. 

* * *

I don't understand the teenagers here who yell "f@ck you!" at me and Joanna when we take a walk. They'll ride by on bicycles or motorbikes, and scream profanities at a balding, soon-to-be 64-year-old man pushing a stroller carrying a 28-month-old toddler -- that would be me and Joanna. If I'm walking alone, I don't care so much. Besides, I always have headphones on so I don't really have to hear people sarcastically scream "what's your name, where you from?" when I walk anywhere. Some people get agitated when I don't answer and they'll scream the questions over and over, occasionally  getting in my face. I've been semi-threatened on several occasions here and had stuff thrown at me, but no one has ever laid a hand on me. Well, people have rubbed my stomach and silly stuff like that, but they've never aggressively pawed me; and I've lived here nearly six years. I guess the "f@ck you!" and "what's your name?" goofballs are just showing off. But showing off for whom? Me? Joanna? What a bunch of chuckleheads.

***

Another disarming aspect of aging is that I see Facebook posts about people I know -- and like -- passing away. A woman I worked with in Bakersfield, Mimi McAndrew, recently passed away. She was one of the nicest people I had the pleasure to work with in my 30 years in journalism. She was kind, caring, and one hell of a journalist. We recently reconnected on Facebook and she always commented on my family and how we look so happy.  I'll miss you, Mimi.  My high school wrestling practice partner and semi-assistant coach, Rick Widdoes, also passed away recently. Widdoes was a college wrestler and he would come to my high school wrestling practice to give me a workout and beat the hell out of me. I was our team's heavyweight and there was no one even close to my size on the squad. Widdoes was a good-sized guy with incredibly strong hands. He toyed with me ... BUT ... one time he was showing off and did a lazy sit out, and I seized the opportunity and trapped Widdoes in a killer cradle, and put him on his back. My coach, Earl Helmbreck, who was also Widdoes' coach in high school, started taunting Widdoes. "Johnny Millman's got Ricky on his back. Come on, Ricky, break that cradle." Widdoes -- who was clearly pissed I put him on his back and was even more pissed Helmbreck pointed it out to everyone -- couldn't break that cradle. When the whistle blew, Widdoes complimented my cradle, and then nearly broke my neck when we resumed wrestling, putting me on my back and pinning me. Widdoes was actually more known for his baseball prowess, but I knew him best as an ornery wrestler.