Effects of coronavirus are being strongly felt here

I’ve been dealing with personal issues so I put my blog on hold. Because the issues are personal, I'll say no more. You could ask my therapist, but he won't say anything, either. I'm trying to be a better person as I begin the end game at age 65. No alcohol since Dec. 1, no more plastic bags (a difficult task here) and no more cursing (a difficult task anywhere). My daughter Joanna copies everything I say and do. I’ve been taking care of Joanna nearly around the clock -- except when I teach English -- because my wife Phuong is expecting our second child and she's having a very difficult pregnancy. I'm doing my best to step up. All that said, I’ll get back to writing my blog, which I’ve been told can be therapeutic. It's the process of writing that can be therapeutic, not my blog per se.
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The impact of cornonavirus is quite profound in Vietnam. There are only 17 reported cases here even though Vietnam is one of China’s southern neighbors. Schools have been closed more than three weeks to be cleaned and disinfected, and presumably to keep large groups from congregating. Three villages in northern Vietnam consisting of 10,000 people were under quarantine, meaning people must lay low for two weeks. At least two cases of the virus reportedly were diagnosed in Bien Hoa,  both relatively close to our house. But that's hearsay, meaning that's just what I hear people say. Masks are strongly encouraged and the streets, businesses and coffee shops are considerably quieter now than they were before Tet holiday and the coronavirus outbreak. Joanna did have a persistent fever a few weeks ago, one of the signs of coronavirus, but she seems fine now, insisting on Peppa Pig and dinosaur videos. She writes the dot-to-dot alphabet and politely listens to me read My First Little House Books to her so she can earn Peppa Pig and dinosaur video time. When we go out, I’m militant about people not touching Joanna. Strangers, who are trying to be nice, attempt to stroke Joanna’s face. Hygiene and personal space can be issues here. I have a hands-off policy. I usually just pull Joanna away from any contact with strangers; I had to “jokingly” use my walking stick as a barrier on three occasions. We’re especially concerned and careful because of Phuong’s pregnancy. When schools get back in full swing, we're planning on enrolling Joanna in preschool. 
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Air travel has changed in terms of cost and availability because of the coronavirus — of course, we know it hasn’t been convenient for a long time. I don’t want to jinx my air travel in any way, but my ANA flights to the U.S. and back have been splendid. No waiting, nice seats with adequate room, nice enough seat mates (no guarantees there), and an adequate movie selection. I absolutely enjoyed Once Upon a Time in Hollywood even though I’m sometimes lukewarm on Quentin Tarantino. I was totally absorbed in The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley, a documentary chronicling the rise and fall of Elizabeth Holmes and her company Theranos, which made a bogus health screening device that was supposed to require only one drop of blood. Flight attendants are friendly enough and the flights are smooth. I’m considering a trip to the U.S. real soon … again, for personal reasons. I’ll be happy to have my temperature taken, but I don’t want to be quarantined in Dubai or Tokyo for 14 days, which is the supposed incubation period for coronavirus. I will say the cost of a round-trip ticket is quite reasonable, which is understandable given the world’s circumstances.
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Since getting books shipped to Vietnam is prohibitively expensive, I’ve downloaded Kindle on my iPhone. It’s not like holding a book, but I’ve downloaded a bunch of Jack Vance books to my iPhone, and I enjoy them almost as much as I enjoy paper versions; buying and shipping two Jack Vance books to Vietnam would possibly cost me $50. I’ve downloaded 10 books or so for a cost of about $50. I don’t even want to think how much it would cost to have 10 Jack Vance books shipped to Vietnam.
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A very belated thanks to my wonderful hosts and hostesses during my last visit in the U.S.: Robyn, who always provides perfect gifts for my daughter Joanna; Ron, a great friend who happens to be a great salmon and turkey chef as well; Andy and Jane with their warm welcome, wonderful house and even more wonderful generosity and kindness; John, who treated me to an awesome concert/show by Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band with guests J.D. Wilkes and Dom Flemons, and a very comfortable futon; and my brother and his wife, who opened their house to me. My brother was a great listener, and helped me find gifts for my wife and books for my daughter. Thanks to all. I’ll forever be indebted.
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Phuong and I took Joanna to a public pool and a boy about 7 or 8 years old -- much older than 3-year-old Joanna -- tried to kick her. Not sure why. Then he sort of grabbed her, and Joanna gave the kid a left hand to the face in retaliation. After all, she’s a lefty and has displayed a fierce temper of late. Then, she bounced away as the boy tried to splash her. This occurred at Buu Long Tourist Park, where we had a wonderful time even though Joanna had to “stick and move.”
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I do yoga stretches now since my back rejects tai chi. I’ve abandoned acupuncture after coronavirus  — hygiene is a big concern for me and my family, and there was a very communal atmosphere where I was getting treatments. I don’t want to put anyone at risk. 

Hear that noise? I'm hammered; visa, motorbike hassles

Neighbors who live two houses away from us are having work done on their house. The work involves knocking down walls with a jackhammer followed by the prolonged pounding of a heavy mallet. The noise is obnoxious and persistent -- this work has continued intermittently for two weeks. As bad as it is for us, it's worse for the family next door. An 80-year-old man with a heart condition lives next door to the noise with his family, and his wife says they may have to leave. When there is jackhammering and mallet pounding, I can't hear Phuong talking to me in our kitchen. I can just imagine what it's like for our neighbors. When the ruckus starts, Joanna always says, "Hear that noise?", which is a line from the Eric Carle story The Very Lonely Firefly. Oh, we do hear the noise Joanna. Phuong and Joanna go to Phuong's parents' house when the pounding begins, sometimes as early as 6:40 a.m. I'll put on headphones and clean or work on the house, but the bad vibrations of the jackhammer still come through. As is usually the case here, I'm told there's nothing that can be done about the disruption. I don't begrudge anyone trying to improve their living space, but two weeks of pounding at unexpected intervals is over the top.  I tried to ask the woman who owns the house why she doesn't have the walls knocked down in one or days and then start the remodeling. She laughed, which is her response to me and everyone else when she's asked any questions. A woman next door to us (three houses away from the pounding) just had a baby and she and the newborn are struggling to get some sleep because of the noise. And the folks with the 80-year-old in residence discussed the issue with their neighbor; she laughed. "Hear that noise?"

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More paperwork is being requested from me by the U.S. immigration folks before they'll consider granting Phuong an interview to obtain a U.S. visa. There seems to be a question about the legitimacy of my "domicile." I wrote a letter and produced mortgage and bank statements that prove I'm a U.S. resident who owns a house in the United States. I've been paying the mortgage for more than 14 years. That's no scam, folks. That's $1,200 a month I pay to the bank every month for my property in Yellow Springs, which I'm sure the government could find out if they wanted to. I'm not sure what the point of all this is. I'd be living there now if the government would give my wife a visa. I'm a U.S. citizen with income. Our daughter is a U.S. citizen. My wife is a Vietnamese citizen married to an American, and she and her husband (me) want our daughter to attend school in the United States.  We've lived together more than five years. We have no nefarious motives. We want the best for our children in the country where I was raised and have paid taxes for the past 48 years. I just don't get it.

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I was walking down a little cut-through alley that connects our street to the street behind us on my way to get coffee and read. (See picture of alley on the top right of this blog.) I forgot my walking stick because my back has been feeling so much better. Anyway, a motorbike rips around the corner and doesn't slow down or move to the side so we both can pass -- there's not much room anyway. I had just enough time to step to the wall and protect myself by putting up my right forearm, which hit the woman driving the bike on her right arm and shoulder.  She stopped the bike and began screaming at me, I have no idea what she was saying, so I gave her the hand-wave and laughed. She got really angry and continued jawing, so I gave her one more hand-wave and laugh and was on my way. I was so happy with myself for thinking of the hand-wave and laugh when I was being screamed at. I think I'm finally adapting to living here although I'll never pee outside in the middle of the day on a busy street, like I saw three times in the past week walking with Joanna. I have pictures to prove it, but what's the point?

* * *

• A little supermarket opened around the corner from our house, and it's a fun trip for our family. We'll get popsicles and candy there, and sometimes fruit and vegetables. It's not nearly as nice as Tom's Market in Yellow Springs, but it's cheaper.

• I bought a smoked pilsner at the Craft Beer bar near the little supermarket, and it gets a thumbs-up. The smokey taste was rather subtle with hints of fruit and a slightly tart finish. Or something like that ... I saw a description like this for some other beer on a beer rating site. 

• It's still raining nearly every day and another big storm is on the way. The weather hasn't stopped me and Joanna from going in the pool every day.

• Phuong has hooked me up with a great barber. When he gives a haircut, he shows videos of himself on a big scream cutting customers' hair with new-age Enya music as the soundtrack. Cool stuff.

• I'm traveling to the U.S. on Thursday to take care of some business. It's a short visit that I'm really looking forward to.

Yellow water means we tap out; coffee shop conflict

My wife poured water from our tap into a pan to cook green beans this week, and the water was yellow. I immediately poured some water from the tap into a clear glass to check, and it was as yellow as ... well, the sun. Occurrences like this are the reason we never drink water from the tap here. An hour later, the water was clear again, but my faith was shaken. I used to put tap water into my kettle and boil the water for coffee, but I've lost my nerve. You could say I've gone yellow. You pretty much have to use the water here for showers and brushing your teeth. I won't rinse out my mouth with tap water when I brush my teeth; I use Listerine, so my breath is pretty good. A lot of people here have breath like a goat because they eat the spicy soups for breakfast and don't seem to brush their teeth the rest of the day. And maybe because they drink the tap water. I really don't know.

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Joanna and I go swimming in our third-floor kid pool every day. We were taking long walks (she still likes the stroller) but dirty air and heat caused me to get a skin rash on my face and chest -- about the 12th rash I've had since I've been here. The walks are shorter now and pool time is longer. Joanna is a challenge in the pool, and elsewhere, because she's not a fan of clothing. Comfort takes priority and the heat is unsettling for her. She gripes, but she knows the bathing suit is mandatory or no swimming. I'm trying to teach her to use her imagination to find shapes and animals and objects "in the clouds" while we swim on our open-air balcony. Not sure she's got it yet, but she can spot a plane that's remarkably small and far away. It takes me two or three squints to see the same plane. I pray she keeps her incredible eyesight and doesn't become visually challenged like her dad. We'll also play with plastic ducks and an inflatable giraffe in the pool, blow bubbles, spell S-P-L-A-S-H and count to 100, finishing with a big jump and S-P-L-A-S-H.

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Joanna attracts a lot of attention because she looks different than other kids here, and strangers try to hug or cuddle her, or even give her a kiss. Most mean well, but Joanna doesn't like it, and neither do I. So we don't allow it. But some folks just sort of grab her -- it happened twice at a coffee shop this past Saturday. Also, a boy threw hard, plastic balls at her in the play area. As I carried her out of the shop, I said to Joanna something to the effect that "there are real losers here and you have to be careful." A young woman sitting at a nearby table was apparently listening and starts screaming at me, saying "NO NO NO!" And I mean screaming at me to the point where nearly everyone at this outdoor coffee shop was looking at me. I gave her a pass at first -- and even apologized -- because she probably thought I was insulting all Vietnamese. I wasn't -- I was insulting the guy who grabbed my daughter's arm and hips while she tried to pull away and pulled her close while holding a lit cigarette, and the guy who squatted down in front of her seeking a kiss, and the boy who threw the balls at her. But then I got a little irritated because I wasn't shouting my warning, I was talking to my daughter and not to some woman at a table, so I said to the woman, who was sitting Indian style in a short skirt, "Since you understand English so well, maybe you can understand I'm unhappy because two guys just tried to grab my daughter and she was upset. I don't like people grabbing my 3-year-old."  She scowled at me, put her head down and looked away. Whatever. The people here are like people everywhere. Most are wonderful, there are some "tough guys," as Donald Trump would say,  and there are creeps and losers (put the tough guys in this group). Same thing in the U.S., same in Peru. Same everywhere. Poverty can feed anger, but some of the most caring people I've ever met don't have any money and some of the most arrogant have money.  So my lame conclusion is that people are people. Unfortunately, there's just too many of them. NO NO NO!

* * * 

I won't say cured or all better, but my back has improved so much from my fitness regimen of chi and yoga, and most importantly, from acupuncture, that I sometimes I forget I have sciatica. That said, I think a possible source and aggravation of the problem is that I climb and descend our three flights of stairs about 10 times a day. Three flights up and down 10 times comes to 840 steps. Yep, it's 42 up and 42 down of unforgiving faux marble stairs. It helps explain my fatigue as well as the formerly serious back pain. It's not an issue for Joanna, however, who climbs like Sir Edmund Hillary. Ah, the sweet bird of youth.

Daycare done; very local lunches; needles do the trick

Our daycare business officially shut down on Wednesday, Oct. 9, instead of Thursday as planned. I guess the parents and kids couldn't wait to get away from us and our house. My wife worked incredibly hard on this project for more than eight months. She cleaned, cooked, redesigned our house, created pool time and helped with every activity the kids did. She gave every kid a bath and shampoo daily, and assisted with potty training when necessary. And believe me, it was necessary. The kids left us gifts -- I got a sore throat and mild cough from one of the girls. and a boy left our daughter Joanna a case of diarrhea. Joanna is a hearty soul and shook it off in a day. So far, nothing for Phuong other than grief for her choice of food, milk and water. There were complaints about the fact we served chicken twice a week, and used brands of milk and bottled water that allegedly contained chemicals. Despite some parents' focus on "organic" food, their kids seemed to have their fair share of illnesses. Perhaps these were "organic" illnesses, which are probably better for the kids than the generic brand. Who knows? Who cares? I'm sure we did a lot of things wrong regarding child care. I don't have the benefit of being an outside observer with the kids we watched or with our daughter Joanna. I'll let the experts criticize us. Regardless, Phuong and I thought every child who came to our house was wonderful, bright and a joy to be around. Behavior and English improved steadily while the kids were here. The hitting and toy throwing stopped. We got to watch them grow up and taught them how to clean up, and we loved it. Thanks to the kids and parents for letting us be a part of the children's lives. As for Joanna, she never quite jived with the group. For example, she loves sharp cheddar cheese while the other kids would spit out the small samples I gave them. She speaks English, not Vietnamese, and looks and acts differently than the other kids. Joanna is obsessed with books, letters and numbers. The other kids, not so much. The other kids didn't really play with Joanna. No big deal because Joanna does her own thing anyway, and seems extremely comfortable with herself. We love her just the way she is.

* * *

I've noted before that Phuong's sister-in-law has a breakfast business, making Pho, Bun bo Hue, Bun Rieu, Hu tiu -- my wife gave me the spellings so don't correct me, correct her. The "soups" are all well-made but Bun bo Hue -- with or without blood pudding -- is my favorite. Pho is the national dish, sort of, and I've learned to like it. Hu tiu is dependably good and I'm beginning to appreciate Bun Rieu, which has some kind of crab base. A big bowl of any of the soups costs about $1 U.S., so it's a bargain to say the least. I don't eat soup for breakfast, but Phuong and I share a bowl for lunch nearly every day. It's economical, convenient and tasty. Dessert for me is almost always yogurt.. The point of all of this is to say that I'm learning to adjust to the food here. It's taken more than six years. But I really, really miss things that I enjoyed constantly in the U.S. like pretzels, good lunch meat, apple pie, good cheese and good beer. For now, Phuong's sister-in-law is doing her best to keep me fat and happy.

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I have a nomination for Time's Person of the Year, and it ain't Donald Trump. I'll nominate the lady who gives me acupuncture. No pain, no reason to complain. For the past three weeks, this low-keyed woman has stuck needles in my butt, back and down both legs -- and turned on the juice -- to produce remarkable results in the once-wobbly White Monkey.  I've combined the acupuncture with some yoga stretches and nightly tai chi to gain the mobility and athleticism of a man in his, well, mid-60s. Don't be jealous. All these techniques are available to anyone who is persistent and has a desire to be pain-free. That would be me at the moment. Back pain helped ruin my brother's life -- and my heart truly goes out to anyone dealing with chronic pain. Persevere ... and good luck to you. I've gone from being in pain to being relatively pain free -- and a pain in everyone else's ass again. I love it.

Stopping daycare; acupuncture helps; conversation class

Our daycare business will shut down on Oct.10,  a little more than eight months after Phuong began this project as a way to have Joanna interact more with other children.  Our daycare is being stopped for personal reasons that I won't get into here. Ostensibly, Phuong is tired and my back is a mess in the morning, which in my view is the most important time for kids and daycare. I leave the house from 9 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. three times a week for acupuncture treatment, meaning Phuong is alone with the little angels. But we persevered and ultimately I found the time with kids very enjoyable. We were doing regular art and "academic" projects that focused on the alphabet and shapes; we made princess and Spiderman masks last week. Joanna's interaction with the kids was OK, but she speaks primarily English and the other kids in the group speak Vietnamese. Blame me for that. When the children took their nap after lunch, Joanna would come upstairs to play and read books with me. Really, the time she spent playing with the other kids was quite limited, although I noticed an increase lately ...  since we decided to shutter the business. It always seems to work that way, doesn't it? I won't miss the constant illnesses that came into the house and worked their way into my body, but I'll miss all of the kids. They were starting to get it: We share, we don't hit, and everyone gets along.

* * *

I've had about seven acupuncture treatments so far for sciatica and they are clearly helping. My back and legs are still problematic for about an hour in the morning, probably because of our lousy bed that my wife loves, but the discomfort settles down and goes away for the rest of the day. Before acupuncture, the pain would persist and be quite uncomfortable at times. Now I can do tai chi at night with little or no pain. I'm a satisfied customer and I'll continue with the treatment indefinitely. I get the treatments at a lady's house and there are four or five other patients there as well. It's a little odd since everyone has their pants pulled halfway down their butts. No big deal, except in the case of my butt.  Just saying. There's no fan or air conditioning in the room, which is open to the street.  I'm guessing it's close to 90 degrees F in the room when I'm getting treated, so sweat pours off of me the entire time. The acupuncture lady seems shocked every time she sees me sweat, which is every time I go there. Anyway, a massage either follows or comes before the acupuncture, and it's very good -- firm, strong, but not painful. This lady and her acupuncture business including the massage guys get an enthusiastic thumbs-up (and butts-up) from the White Monkey.

* * *

I'm guilty of generalizing about the motorbike riders and car drivers here. I've said they're all pretty much selfish, aggressive turds. Twice in the past week as I waited to cross the street, cars stopped and waved me across -- and they had the right of way. On one occasion, the motorbikes stopped as well to let me cross. On the other occasion, motorbikes raced around the car -- the stupid turds -- and nearly hit me as I crossed at the beckoning of the car's driver. I felt obliged. But I rarely walk in Bien Hoa unless I'm carrying my brother's walking stick. My brother didn't use it, fell in the bathroom and died a short while later. I bought it in Prince Edward Island and gave it to Charlie. Anyway, when bikes come ripping at me, which they're apt to do here, I'll hold up the stick in a defensive posture. They'll either slow down or give me a wide berth. Maybe Charlie is looking out for me as well.

* * *

My English students want "conversation", so when I give them a topic or ask them questions, they go silent. It's been that way here for seven years, whether I'm in a language center or in my third-floor classroom at home. Conversation seems to happen best when it's natural and spontaneous, and not scheduled, requested or forced. So, I still teach from a book and have an agenda, but try to let the conversation develop naturally, regardless of the topic. If we get off course, so to speak, so be it.

Crushed thumb; acupuncture; Joanna has gift of gab

I had a mixed bag of personal experiences on Saturday, which is typical of my life here. As I was getting into a taxi, I grabbed the partially opened window to close the door and at that exact moment the driver pressed the button to close the electric window, nearly amputating my right thumb. I screamed in pain because my thumb was trapped and the driver just looked at me. The pressure on my thumb was unbearable, and the driver finally understood and released my throbbing thumb. A lady working a food stand on the corner saw and heard the whole pathetic incident -- locals watch everything that goes on here -- and she came over with some kind of mint-smelling oil and applied it to my thumb. I don't know if it helped, but it sure was a hell of a nice gesture. That's the second time my thumb has been trapped in a taxi's electric window here -- shame on me. Anyway, when I got to my destination, the driver said no charge. Fair enough since I almost had no thumb; my thumb nail will surely be lost. Anyway, my destination is the final installment of my Saturday saga. I went to a woman who does acupuncture. A Russian gentlemen I met told me about his bad back -- a sciatica problem like mine -- and a local lady who gives him acupuncture treatments. He said the treatments have really helped and he gave me her phone number to make an appointment. So I arrived for the treatment with a throbbing thumb. I've never had an acupuncture treatment before, but it didn't hurt when the woman inserted the little needles into my back, butt, and down both legs. They almost tickled. You feel a mild pulsation when the electricity is sent into the needles. One spot on the left side of my back got really hot, and the women pointed this out because, I guess, it also got real red. I have no explanation, even though I have a simpleton's understanding of chi and meridians; the acupuncture woman speaks no English. The woman suggested 45 treatments for me. Cost is not an issue but my time and availability could be.  The acupuncture was an absolutely positive experience and my sciatic feels better. Cured? No, but the pain in my back, butt and down both legs is substantially reduced.  I'll go as often as I can. Maybe she can also treat my thumb next time.

* * *

Joanna continues to amaze me with her wonderful behavior and clever responses. I asked her "Who loves you?" and she responded M-O-M-M-Y.  Spelling is her new obsession of sorts -- I have to be careful with Joanna because like her mom and dad, when she gets fixated on something it's not easy to get her to move on to something else. I was reading a book called "Bubble Bubble" by Mercer Mayer and one of the picture frames shows paper litter on the ground next to a sign that says No Littering. Joanna saw the paper on the ground and said: "Oh no. Horrible, terrible trash on the ground."

* * *

I put my foot down with Phuong (and Joanna) that Joanna must be in bed NO LATER than 8:30 p.m. each night.  Joanna manipulated her way into staying up until 9:30 and beyond each night by claiming: She had to pee; she had to go outside; she lost her duck; she had to pee again; and she lost her chickens. Phuong is much more lenient and patient with Joanna than the White Monkey, which is one reason Joanna loves her M-O-M-M-Y so much. But there has clearly been a change for the better in Joanna's personality and behavior since she's been going to bed earlier and is back on a set schedule. I eliminated her afternoon nap and an early bedtime isn't nearly the challenge it used to be.

* * *

Bad news on the tennis front. Phuong beat me twice last week to take the No. 1 ranking from me, but she pulled a muscle in one of her lovely legs in the process. Now, she's on injury leave, meaning I'm stuck with the No. 2 ranking until she returns. My appeal to be reinstated as No. 1 was rejected by some "corrupt" tennis organization.  I'm willing to play through the pain of my throbbing thumb and painful sciatica to reclaim my rightful place on the family tennis throne, but Phuong is taking a day-to-day, wait-and-see approach. Clearly, she's ducking me.

Bad mall scene; no safety; melancholy memories

I imagine if you went to a market in Dhaka or Mumbai or Dar Es Salaam, the crowds could be worse and the heat more stifling. But the heat and mob scene at Aeon Mall in Binh Duong, Vietnam, on Monday, a national holiday, was as intense as any I've experienced. It was like Black Friday on steroids ... in the tropics. The locals bounced off each other like it was no big deal and just about everyone took off their shoes when they ate at the food court, which didn't sell hot coffee or have chocolate syrup or any servers who could understand English. It was all in a day out for Phuong and her family, but the White Monkey suffers mild panic attacks in hot, crowded places. In short, I don't like them. But I was a good soldier and didn't complain, even when people pointed and stared at the White Monkey. When requested -- four times, I believe -- I posed for pictures with some teenage boys and girls. Phuong found a wonderful toy for Joanna, a bag of good-sized rubber and plastic insects that Joanna has carried with her and played with since she got home. So all was not lost in the heat and masses of people, but scenes like this are clearly not my style.
* * *
One of the daycare moms couldn't get her car to start and she asked me to help. I'm an English teacher -- not a mechanic -- for a reason. But this was an easy fix.  I turned the steering wheel so it clicked into place, then all was well. The car started. The woman was carrying a very young baby, and shockingly, she got in the car and held the baby as she drove away. There was no car seat, but there was a video screen going full blast on the front dashboard. She has to go across town, but safety takes a back seat to convenience and speed (and videos) in this country, as far as I can tell. The woman is nice enough, but I can't understand a mother of four not doing everything she can to keep her kids safe. Holding your baby with her other kids in a subcompact and driving in Vietnam's ruthless traffic isn't doing very much to secure her kids'  safety.
* * *
My older brother Charlie would have turned 71 on Sept. 3. I didn't see him much-- two or three times in the last 10 years of his sad life -- but like clockwork I would call him once a week to chat. I used to try to keep up with people that way, but as I get older I stay in touch with fewer people. And I'm doing it less and less. Folks have their own lives and seem very busy and preoccupied these days; some people don't want contact with me because they remember what a putz I was when I was younger; and besides, I'm focusing on making sure I do the best I can for my little girl and wife. All said,  I miss my chats with my brother. We went through a lot together as kids, sometimes more than kids should have to go through.
* * *
Some wonderful news. My former student Sam is now my current student again. She wants to continue to improve her English and English teaching skills, which is why she's one of my favorite students and favorite people of all time. Welcome back Sam. I'm teaching four students .twice a week -- Sam and her cousin in one class and Lan and Uyen in another. Both classes are wonderful, in case you cared. I know I do.
* * *
 A wonderful high school classmate of mine, Dan Hoeftman, passed away recently. I used to think I had some boxing skills when I was younger until I put the gloves on with Dan. He was quick and skilled enough to pound my face, but he was gentle and kind enough to hold back. I admired Dan, who in high school had to wrestle above his weight for the good of the team. That was Dan's nature -- putting others above himself. God's speed, Dan.