The monsoon season continues to hang around, dumping quite a bit of rain on Bien Hoa, usually in the late afternoon. The rain can last anywhere from an hour to three or four hours, but we usually get the shorter version, which resembles something of a cloud burst. Maybe it's the wet, muggy weather that's gotten our family into a cycle of sickness. It's like a relay race ... Joanna passed her snot-nosed illness to me, and I've handed it off to Phuong, and the cycle has made its way back to me again. Since I'm the old fart of the bunch, I tend to get the sickest in our family. I'm really sick at the moment and can't really talk. A lot of people think that's a good thing. The young farts Phuong and Joanna shake this stuff off quicker than the old NWM. The latest virus started in my nose -- I couldn't breathe or sleep. It's now in my throat and lungs -- I can't breathe or sleep. Next stop ... ?
I'm so happy to report that Joanna is really thriving without TV and videos. Her whining has stopped. Period. Her interactions are more intelligent and decisive with almost no confrontation. The children in our neighborhood are quick to hit or push Joanna if she so much as walks toward them or puts one finger on them, or their toys. In fact, kids do quite a bit of hitting here, which doesn't shock me since I see parents whacking their kids quite a bit -- even in church. It's a very unsavory cycle, even worse than our sinus infections. But instead of crying or hitting back, Joanna pretty much ignores the aggressive kids, turning her back on them and amusing herself with another toy or a ball or whatever. The pushy kids are anywhere from 10 to 18 months older than Joanna. Some are 4, 5, or 6 years old, but Joanna certainly acts older than they do. I'm so damn proud of my daughter -- and my wife, too, for that matter, because that's who Joanna emulates. And Joanna is a really tall and sturdy girl, so those older whack-heads better be careful. What goes around ...
I figured out why Joanna always walks on her tiptoes -- it decreases the chances she'll step on a lego or wooden block or some other toy on the ground. She avoids causing great pain to her feet with her nimble walking, so Phuong and I have been practicing our tiptoe walking because I nearly ruined my right arch stepping on a rattle. I'm the NWM (New White Monkey), not the Young White Monkey I used to be.
Phuong and I are back on the tennis court, but we don't play against each other. Someone has to watch Joanna. So Phuong works on her game with Tai (my old partner), and I play a set or two against him. Our neighbor showed up with his two young sons last Sunday, and wanted to play me. I had already played a set with Tai, but agreed. My neighbor's kids yelled "Dragon ball" and other junk while I served and attempted to return serve. Needless to say, I was a little distracted and fell behind 0-3. I regrouped and trailed 4-5, but it was my serve so I was kind of excited. In other words, I battled to get "back on serve." At that moment, my opponent quit, saying he was too tired to finish the match. Whatever. Fifteen minutes later, he was back on the court with Tai hitting forehands. This same guy quit on me before under similar circumstances. At the old court where clowns walked across the court during my matches, some other guy quit as I rallied from a 2-5 deficit to tie our match 5-5. He was tired, too. Draw your own conclusions. "Dragon ball!"
Phuong and I walk to the park nightly since I'm almost finished with the language center -- I have about 3 classes remaining over the next three weeks. We enjoy the walks, but the litter everywhere is so disheartening. The park gets super trashy sometimes. The streets leading to the park are horrible, and the smelly canal (open sewer) that runs along the park is filled with garbage. And guys fish there. Catch of the day? This town has some potential, but trash, pollution and aggressive motorbike riders make it less than pleasant. I've gotten used to the staring and glaring, but I'll never accept the filthy environment and littering.
Joanna loves kicking a soccer ball and avoiding punches from neighborhood kids at the park. Other than the smell, trash and violence, it's a wonderful experience for all of us. Really. The other moms are sweet as pie and the other dads smile and give me a thumbs-up. I've said it before. There are some incredibly nice people here along with the ... other folk.
Phuong was rejected on her Canadian tourist visa, so I'm considering travel options with Joanna. We're super close and buddy-buddy these days, but I'm not sure Joanna could handle a trip across the really big pond without her mom. As always, we'll see how things shake out, since I'm not optimistic Phuong will ever be able to leave Vietnam.
Thursday, October 26, 2017
Thursday, October 19, 2017
Nobody likes a quitter except my family
Being at home and not having to go to work is awesome. I could do this for a living. The pay isn't great but time is money, and I've got loads of time. I see my wife and daughter all day, every day. I read to Joanna constantly. I exercise, help with the laundry and cooking, do dishes, and generally get in my wife's and daughter's way all the time. By the way, this is the same stuff I did before I quit my job at a language center, but one difference is that I'm much happier now.
I've noticed that when she isn't running full speed into furniture and walls, Joanna walks on her tiptoes. I'm not sure what that's about, but it's so cute. In fact, everything Joanna does is cute and it's so great to be home to see it. I know my other children were remarkable as well, but I had a damn job and other issues involving alcohol at the time. I missed so much.
I won a crucial and important battle with my wife Phuong involving Joanna. Our little sweetheart was becoming whiny and demanding. So the NWM (that's me) issued an edict: No more videos or television for Joanna. That meant no more Itsy Bitsy Spider or If You're Happy or Goodnight Moon videos before bedtime. The first two nights (and days) were a little difficult, but then our brilliant daughter brilliantly adapted by bringing more books to her dad to read, and playing more with her toys. We bought some blue-colored play sand and assorted digging toys, and she has dug right in, so to speak. The whining has stopped and so has her demanding behavior. She's now trying to speak more, saying "fish, mommy, daddy, kitty, cheese," and other words -- in English, of course. The pronunciation isn't flawless, but I understand, and more importantly, she's trying to speak and play instead of sucking her finger and staring at a screen. The NWM (New White Monkey) is proud of this edict and even more proud of Phuong for eventually seeing things my way on this issue. Now if I can just convince her that cigarettes and lots of beer aren't that bad ... just kidding. I've gone 19 months without a cigarette and share a beer every other night or so with Phuong. The supermarket at Vincom carries La Trappe Trappist Quadruple, a very good and strong (Alc.10% volume) beer made in The Netherlands.
I have two classes over two weeks at my soon to be former language center. That's good, but I'm scheduled to teach a group of 7-, 8- and 9-year-olds both times. I've taught them twice before. The kids and I are starting to hit it off, but I don't think that matters much now. A class I've worked with quite a bit that was beginning to turn into a special group was taken off my schedule, so now I can say farewell to my farewell tour. Whatever. I told my boss that I thought I was making good progress with the class I no longer teach now, and she "joked": "I guess you did one good thing while you were here." Maybe that creepy teacher was right when he "joked" that the staff and other teachers were celebrating my resignation.
Regardless, I'll remain forever grateful that VMG took me back as a teacher after my multiple motorbike accidents, especially the first one four years ago that put me in a Thailand hospital for a week and continues to give me periodic dizzy spells and headaches. (My son Jack may have saved my life by getting me out of a Ho Chi Minh City hospital and sending me to the Thailand hospital, and my son Alec and my ex-wife Lynda flew to Bangkok from the U.S. to visit. At least I can remember these things now.)
I want to say a special thanks to a woman staffer named Nguyen (a very unusual Vietnamese name -- ha ha), who would help me get pizzas for my students and headphones for my head. And there's Joy, but I thanked her in my last blog, so I'm done with her :).
The students here are incredible. They work hard, they learn fast and they practically never hold a grudge. They're awesome and are always smiling. Hats off to all of them. I'll miss them for sure.
Finally, there's one woman who's so cool, so hot, so wow, and so nice that I quit my job so I could spend every minute with her (and our daughter). Phuong, my incredible wife, got me computers, a printer, found my keys and wallet every day, and somehow always knew where my books were. And there's a wild little girl who's part of this package. Quitting was the right thing to do for many reasons, but No. 1 is Phuong and Joanna. Really, they made my decision a no-brainer.
I've noticed that when she isn't running full speed into furniture and walls, Joanna walks on her tiptoes. I'm not sure what that's about, but it's so cute. In fact, everything Joanna does is cute and it's so great to be home to see it. I know my other children were remarkable as well, but I had a damn job and other issues involving alcohol at the time. I missed so much.
I won a crucial and important battle with my wife Phuong involving Joanna. Our little sweetheart was becoming whiny and demanding. So the NWM (that's me) issued an edict: No more videos or television for Joanna. That meant no more Itsy Bitsy Spider or If You're Happy or Goodnight Moon videos before bedtime. The first two nights (and days) were a little difficult, but then our brilliant daughter brilliantly adapted by bringing more books to her dad to read, and playing more with her toys. We bought some blue-colored play sand and assorted digging toys, and she has dug right in, so to speak. The whining has stopped and so has her demanding behavior. She's now trying to speak more, saying "fish, mommy, daddy, kitty, cheese," and other words -- in English, of course. The pronunciation isn't flawless, but I understand, and more importantly, she's trying to speak and play instead of sucking her finger and staring at a screen. The NWM (New White Monkey) is proud of this edict and even more proud of Phuong for eventually seeing things my way on this issue. Now if I can just convince her that cigarettes and lots of beer aren't that bad ... just kidding. I've gone 19 months without a cigarette and share a beer every other night or so with Phuong. The supermarket at Vincom carries La Trappe Trappist Quadruple, a very good and strong (Alc.10% volume) beer made in The Netherlands.
I have two classes over two weeks at my soon to be former language center. That's good, but I'm scheduled to teach a group of 7-, 8- and 9-year-olds both times. I've taught them twice before. The kids and I are starting to hit it off, but I don't think that matters much now. A class I've worked with quite a bit that was beginning to turn into a special group was taken off my schedule, so now I can say farewell to my farewell tour. Whatever. I told my boss that I thought I was making good progress with the class I no longer teach now, and she "joked": "I guess you did one good thing while you were here." Maybe that creepy teacher was right when he "joked" that the staff and other teachers were celebrating my resignation.
Regardless, I'll remain forever grateful that VMG took me back as a teacher after my multiple motorbike accidents, especially the first one four years ago that put me in a Thailand hospital for a week and continues to give me periodic dizzy spells and headaches. (My son Jack may have saved my life by getting me out of a Ho Chi Minh City hospital and sending me to the Thailand hospital, and my son Alec and my ex-wife Lynda flew to Bangkok from the U.S. to visit. At least I can remember these things now.)
I want to say a special thanks to a woman staffer named Nguyen (a very unusual Vietnamese name -- ha ha), who would help me get pizzas for my students and headphones for my head. And there's Joy, but I thanked her in my last blog, so I'm done with her :).
The students here are incredible. They work hard, they learn fast and they practically never hold a grudge. They're awesome and are always smiling. Hats off to all of them. I'll miss them for sure.
Finally, there's one woman who's so cool, so hot, so wow, and so nice that I quit my job so I could spend every minute with her (and our daughter). Phuong, my incredible wife, got me computers, a printer, found my keys and wallet every day, and somehow always knew where my books were. And there's a wild little girl who's part of this package. Quitting was the right thing to do for many reasons, but No. 1 is Phuong and Joanna. Really, they made my decision a no-brainer.
Friday, October 13, 2017
I quit my job at language center in Bien Hoa
I quit my job at VMG this week. I gave 31 days notice since I'm the consummate professional (hold your laughter, please) and I truly respect my employer. My last day will be Nov. 10, 2017, which means I will have worked (rare use of the future perfect tense) at VMG language center for 4 years, 8 months and 1 week as an English teacher. But who's counting besides VMG and the NWM (New White Monkey)? I was told by another teacher that the staff and teachers at VMG were celebrating my resignation. Fake news? Could be. I'm sure a few students are happy to see me leave. But I never, ever cheated any students on preparation for class. I had a thorough plan for EVERY class and I respected the students. The only time I lost my cool was when it was clear to me that students were being intentionally disrespectful. That rarely happened -- I can remember maybe three times in almost five years. Not bad, really. I want to thank fellow teacher Joy Cao Bogart for supporting me, providing advice and worksheets, and being a great friend. There are many people to thank, but Joy has stood by the NWM through the good and bad times. That's what friendship is about, because I've had my share of difficulties here. Sadly, I didn't make any friends among Vietnamese teachers in nearly five years at VMG. A few were nice and some were cordial, but that's the extent of it. However, I did meet the most wonderful woman in the world in Bien Hoa City -- Pham Thi Ngoc Phuong -- who became my wife and the greatest mom in the world to the best little girl in the world, Joanna Pham Millman. I now know I'm the luckiest man in the world because of Phuong, Joanna, and my children in the United States, who probably don't want their names mentioned here. My wife and children are intelligent, caring and genuine people. My children in the U.S. have grown into successful adults, thanks primarily to my first wife Lynda, another quality human. I told you I was a lucky man. I never said smart, but I'll stand by lucky.
I'm actually getting through to a couple of the Speed Racers on our street. Twice, I saw a couple of guys approaching our house close to the 100KMH mark, so I stood in the street with my long staff held out in front of me. But I've softened my approach, smiling and gently using the staff to urge the riders to slow down. The younger guys get it, but the older losers and young girls couldn't care less. One young, helmet-less girl, no more than 17, sped up and raced right past me as I urged her to slow down a bit. She's not a quality human. The neighbors continue to stare in disgust at the vigilante NWM (credit to Ron for this expression) as I beg speeders to ease up.
A woman who lives in a giant house across the street from the park we take Joanna to won't put her trash out in front of her house for pickup. Instead, she carries it across the street and leaves it under a tree in the park, where roaming dogs and assorted chuckleheads rip it to shreds, spreading her waste everywhere. Classy, huh? One day, after she "dropped off" her trash, she gave me the NWM stare, and continued to stare as she crossed the street. Two clowns on a bike didn't slow down, of course, and had to swerve wildly at the last second to avoid hitting her. She laughed. Too bad they didn't hit her -- it would have served all three losers right.
Joanna chewed up my favorite headphones, making them useless. So I did what any responsible adult would do. I took them down to the park and threw them under a tree for pickup. Not really, but it's fair to say that I wasn't pleased.
I'm actually getting through to a couple of the Speed Racers on our street. Twice, I saw a couple of guys approaching our house close to the 100KMH mark, so I stood in the street with my long staff held out in front of me. But I've softened my approach, smiling and gently using the staff to urge the riders to slow down. The younger guys get it, but the older losers and young girls couldn't care less. One young, helmet-less girl, no more than 17, sped up and raced right past me as I urged her to slow down a bit. She's not a quality human. The neighbors continue to stare in disgust at the vigilante NWM (credit to Ron for this expression) as I beg speeders to ease up.
A woman who lives in a giant house across the street from the park we take Joanna to won't put her trash out in front of her house for pickup. Instead, she carries it across the street and leaves it under a tree in the park, where roaming dogs and assorted chuckleheads rip it to shreds, spreading her waste everywhere. Classy, huh? One day, after she "dropped off" her trash, she gave me the NWM stare, and continued to stare as she crossed the street. Two clowns on a bike didn't slow down, of course, and had to swerve wildly at the last second to avoid hitting her. She laughed. Too bad they didn't hit her -- it would have served all three losers right.
Joanna chewed up my favorite headphones, making them useless. So I did what any responsible adult would do. I took them down to the park and threw them under a tree for pickup. Not really, but it's fair to say that I wasn't pleased.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Great gifts, wild child, two more accidents
My sister-in-law, who has said about six words to me in three years, gave Phuong and I some kimchi that she made. Kimchi is a popular Korean dish made from salted and fermented vegetables, such as cabbage, ginger, onions, radishes, and hot red peppers. Or something like that. It's very popular in Korea, but has been catching on in Vietnam as well in the past year or so. Like red lipstick.. Anyway, the first batch she gave us was heavy on ginger and light on red pepper. "Real" kimchi is usually very spicy. I mentioned to Phuong that additional red peppers would make the kimchi more authentic and it would probably taste better. My silent sister-in-law came back with the second batch and it's amazingly good. Actually, it's better than any kimchi I've had at the Korean restaurants here or have purchased in the markets. It's hot as hell but it also has a wonderful flavor. I can't stop eating it, even though it can be a little rough on the system. Let's just say it has remarkable cleansing powers. I went over to my in-laws' house, where my sister-in-law lives with her husband (Phuong's brother), their two children, and Phuong's mom and dad, and thanked her and told her the kimchi was excellent. She stared at me and didn't say anything. That's fine as long as she keeps making the kimchi. And she's very good with our daughter, Joanna.
A couple of neighbors on our street have been very kind to Joanna and our family. The family next door with the rowdy son brought two toys for Joanna and the boy made sure he was the one who gave Joanna the presents. A family across the street brought us a Chinese lantern sort of thing, which lights up and "sings" a song when you push the "on" switch. Moon festival stuff. Very kind. And the lantern family gave us a chunk of cake, which was loaded with whipped cream and chocolate. I liked it.
Our nearly 15-month-old daughter is learning to play mom and dad against each other, crying and gaining sympathy when one or the other parent disciplines her for doing something dangerous and life-threatening. And man, is she stubborn. Reminds me of my children in the U.S. And me, as well. When she digs in, she won't budge. I admire her moxie, but it makes parenting tough, especially when you're my age. But not smoking or drinking has certainly helped my patience and fitness, and Joanna seems appreciative. She wants me to hold her and cuddle quite a bit. She's challenging, sometimes moody, often stubborn, but she's always a source of joy and love in our family and house.
I saw two motorbike accidents last week. The first one I saw involved an older lady and a couple of guys who looked like construction workers -- no shirts or helmets, and wearing only flip-flops and grungy shorts. They took a left turn too wide in front of Thuy Nha coffee shop and knocked the woman off her bike. They stopped, helped her up, and in the end she was smiling. The other accident involved yours truly, the NWM (New White Monkey). I was stopped in front of Lido waiting for the traffic to clear out so I could cross the street. Two girls -- about 12 and 8 years old -- were on a bicycle waiting to cross as well. A woman riding past gave me the awkward eye and when she didn't stop staring at me, she ran into the two girls on the bike. The lady gave a startled "Oh Oh" and took off. The girls were shook up, so I escorted them across the busy intersection, daring the yahoos coming toward us to hit me. Everyone was cool, so the girls and I crossed safely together.
Two days earlier, two women on a bike dropped a heavy box they were carrying in the middle of a busy street. I didn't see the drop, but I saw the box and glanced and saw the women on the side of the road up ahead. I stopped in the middle of the road in front of the box, got off my bike, picked up the box and carried it to the women. They didn't really thank me, but kind of nodded, and riders on bikes that had to swerve around my bike honked their horns at me and gave me the NWM stare, not understanding what was taking place. All three incidents had relatively happy endings, which I hope results in good motorbike karma for me. God knows I need it, and I want the same for Phuong and Joanna, who face injury or worse everyday because some clowns go 80 to 100 kilometers an hour up and down our tiny street. Our neighbors don't say anything. They're scared because they "don't want trouble" with the crazy, wild motorbike drivers. And people who live here think I'm the clown so they laugh at me for yelling at these folk to slow down. I don't get it.
I'm not going to Lido for a while since two teens working there had no idea what I was trying to tell them when I wanted to pay my bill. I held up my money, and the kid kept pointing at my coffee. I said no, tried to say the money was for the coffee, but the kid still didn't get it. He grabbed the money and tried to put it in his pocket. I grabbed the money back and he walked away from me and said "I don't understand" in a snarky tone. I got up and went to the counter, paid my bill, then left and watched two girls on a bicycle get hit by some genius who couldn't take her eyes off of me. Some days are better than others for the NWM.
A couple of neighbors on our street have been very kind to Joanna and our family. The family next door with the rowdy son brought two toys for Joanna and the boy made sure he was the one who gave Joanna the presents. A family across the street brought us a Chinese lantern sort of thing, which lights up and "sings" a song when you push the "on" switch. Moon festival stuff. Very kind. And the lantern family gave us a chunk of cake, which was loaded with whipped cream and chocolate. I liked it.
Our nearly 15-month-old daughter is learning to play mom and dad against each other, crying and gaining sympathy when one or the other parent disciplines her for doing something dangerous and life-threatening. And man, is she stubborn. Reminds me of my children in the U.S. And me, as well. When she digs in, she won't budge. I admire her moxie, but it makes parenting tough, especially when you're my age. But not smoking or drinking has certainly helped my patience and fitness, and Joanna seems appreciative. She wants me to hold her and cuddle quite a bit. She's challenging, sometimes moody, often stubborn, but she's always a source of joy and love in our family and house.
I saw two motorbike accidents last week. The first one I saw involved an older lady and a couple of guys who looked like construction workers -- no shirts or helmets, and wearing only flip-flops and grungy shorts. They took a left turn too wide in front of Thuy Nha coffee shop and knocked the woman off her bike. They stopped, helped her up, and in the end she was smiling. The other accident involved yours truly, the NWM (New White Monkey). I was stopped in front of Lido waiting for the traffic to clear out so I could cross the street. Two girls -- about 12 and 8 years old -- were on a bicycle waiting to cross as well. A woman riding past gave me the awkward eye and when she didn't stop staring at me, she ran into the two girls on the bike. The lady gave a startled "Oh Oh" and took off. The girls were shook up, so I escorted them across the busy intersection, daring the yahoos coming toward us to hit me. Everyone was cool, so the girls and I crossed safely together.
Two days earlier, two women on a bike dropped a heavy box they were carrying in the middle of a busy street. I didn't see the drop, but I saw the box and glanced and saw the women on the side of the road up ahead. I stopped in the middle of the road in front of the box, got off my bike, picked up the box and carried it to the women. They didn't really thank me, but kind of nodded, and riders on bikes that had to swerve around my bike honked their horns at me and gave me the NWM stare, not understanding what was taking place. All three incidents had relatively happy endings, which I hope results in good motorbike karma for me. God knows I need it, and I want the same for Phuong and Joanna, who face injury or worse everyday because some clowns go 80 to 100 kilometers an hour up and down our tiny street. Our neighbors don't say anything. They're scared because they "don't want trouble" with the crazy, wild motorbike drivers. And people who live here think I'm the clown so they laugh at me for yelling at these folk to slow down. I don't get it.
I'm not going to Lido for a while since two teens working there had no idea what I was trying to tell them when I wanted to pay my bill. I held up my money, and the kid kept pointing at my coffee. I said no, tried to say the money was for the coffee, but the kid still didn't get it. He grabbed the money and tried to put it in his pocket. I grabbed the money back and he walked away from me and said "I don't understand" in a snarky tone. I got up and went to the counter, paid my bill, then left and watched two girls on a bicycle get hit by some genius who couldn't take her eyes off of me. Some days are better than others for the NWM.
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
I totally support NFL players not standing for the anthem
Sitting here in Bien Hoa, Vietnam, what do I think when I see NFL football players in the United States refusing to stand for the national anthem? Well, when I see this I think that my country is the greatest in the world.
I love my country for many reasons, but the most important one for me is that I can express my opinion, and say that my country is foolish, pigheaded, authoritarian, or just plain wrong about something and not get sentenced to 20 years in prison. Back in the day -- in the early 1970s -- I went to a movie with two friends from high school. None of us agreed with or supported the war in Vietnam, so when the national anthem was played before the movie, we chose not to stand. We may have been being smart-asses as well, but nonetheless, we didn't support Americans dying because our government wanted to intervene in a civil war "to stop the spread of communism." (And we really didn't want to go to Vietnam to fight in a war we didn't believe in.) So while everyone in the theater stood for the anthem, we sat. The guy behind us kept calling us punks, and I thought about standing, but one of my friends said something back to the guy, and didn't budge. Neither did I nor my other friend.
I still feel proud of that moment. And I still feel proud of my country, even though the Vietnam War was one of the biggest blunders in American history. One of. Of course, I support our military and our police. My dad was in the U.S. Army and fought in World War II. Two of my uncles were in the U.S. Air Force and one of my uncles was a policeman in Philadelphia. My brother is a graduate of the Naval Academy and served 20 years in the U.S. Navy. My son is in the Army National Guard and served nine months in Afghanistan. I support, respect and admire those who serve or have served my country. Some have paid the ultimate price. They've lost their lives or been severely injured defending my right to sit in a movie theater during the national anthem. Sounds a little trite, but there's nothing trite about freedom of speech and expression. My country has a president who's somewhere to the right of John Birch, but I'll bet Donald Trump is happy he grew up in the United States instead of North Korea. Our president uses his freedom of speech on Twitter. NFL players use it on the field by refusing to stand. I use it on blogspot. So you can kiss my ass everyone.
I consider my country a family. I can talk crap about my country or family, but I don't like to hear some Canadian or Englishman or Frenchman or anyone else insulting my country or family. I don't like it, I'll let them know I don't like it, but I'll respect their views or at least give them their say, no matter how stupid and uninformed their opinions are. That's what makes Americans different. That's what makes the United States of America great.
Since I'm not working very much, I'm spending a ton of time with 14-month-old Joanna and my beautiful wife Phuong. God knows I wasn't the perfect father or husband the first time around, but I've tried to learn from my mistakes. And now I have the right amount of time -- for me -- to be a better dad and husband. Anyway, Joanna is hilarious, in a good way. She doesn't talk much, but I attribute that to her desire to do everything perfectly. So yesterday, when I offered her a cookie (all natural, by the way), she responded: "Ga ba ya yea do di .... cookie." I don't know what the other stuff meant, but she said cookie as clear as an azure sky and better than my students -- anywhere in the world. I clapped and cheered. Joanna absolutely loves it when I praise her. The only time I sort of raise my voice with her is when she starts playing and doing foolish stunts on our very steep and dangerous faux marble stairs. But life is wonderful as I live under "house arrest" here. We're not comfortable going out because people point at Joanna and say "Mỹ Mỹ Mỹ" (American, American, American), and they stare and laugh at me, the handsome NWM (New White Monkey). Most of the folks here are very, very nice, but a few turds can make life stink a little. Just ask Joanna.
I love my country for many reasons, but the most important one for me is that I can express my opinion, and say that my country is foolish, pigheaded, authoritarian, or just plain wrong about something and not get sentenced to 20 years in prison. Back in the day -- in the early 1970s -- I went to a movie with two friends from high school. None of us agreed with or supported the war in Vietnam, so when the national anthem was played before the movie, we chose not to stand. We may have been being smart-asses as well, but nonetheless, we didn't support Americans dying because our government wanted to intervene in a civil war "to stop the spread of communism." (And we really didn't want to go to Vietnam to fight in a war we didn't believe in.) So while everyone in the theater stood for the anthem, we sat. The guy behind us kept calling us punks, and I thought about standing, but one of my friends said something back to the guy, and didn't budge. Neither did I nor my other friend.
I still feel proud of that moment. And I still feel proud of my country, even though the Vietnam War was one of the biggest blunders in American history. One of. Of course, I support our military and our police. My dad was in the U.S. Army and fought in World War II. Two of my uncles were in the U.S. Air Force and one of my uncles was a policeman in Philadelphia. My brother is a graduate of the Naval Academy and served 20 years in the U.S. Navy. My son is in the Army National Guard and served nine months in Afghanistan. I support, respect and admire those who serve or have served my country. Some have paid the ultimate price. They've lost their lives or been severely injured defending my right to sit in a movie theater during the national anthem. Sounds a little trite, but there's nothing trite about freedom of speech and expression. My country has a president who's somewhere to the right of John Birch, but I'll bet Donald Trump is happy he grew up in the United States instead of North Korea. Our president uses his freedom of speech on Twitter. NFL players use it on the field by refusing to stand. I use it on blogspot. So you can kiss my ass everyone.
I consider my country a family. I can talk crap about my country or family, but I don't like to hear some Canadian or Englishman or Frenchman or anyone else insulting my country or family. I don't like it, I'll let them know I don't like it, but I'll respect their views or at least give them their say, no matter how stupid and uninformed their opinions are. That's what makes Americans different. That's what makes the United States of America great.
Since I'm not working very much, I'm spending a ton of time with 14-month-old Joanna and my beautiful wife Phuong. God knows I wasn't the perfect father or husband the first time around, but I've tried to learn from my mistakes. And now I have the right amount of time -- for me -- to be a better dad and husband. Anyway, Joanna is hilarious, in a good way. She doesn't talk much, but I attribute that to her desire to do everything perfectly. So yesterday, when I offered her a cookie (all natural, by the way), she responded: "Ga ba ya yea do di .... cookie." I don't know what the other stuff meant, but she said cookie as clear as an azure sky and better than my students -- anywhere in the world. I clapped and cheered. Joanna absolutely loves it when I praise her. The only time I sort of raise my voice with her is when she starts playing and doing foolish stunts on our very steep and dangerous faux marble stairs. But life is wonderful as I live under "house arrest" here. We're not comfortable going out because people point at Joanna and say "Mỹ Mỹ Mỹ" (American, American, American), and they stare and laugh at me, the handsome NWM (New White Monkey). Most of the folks here are very, very nice, but a few turds can make life stink a little. Just ask Joanna.
Saturday, September 23, 2017
Monsoon season; hoping for a Canadian visa; Phuong's tennis is looking real good
We're having a real monsoon season this year. Long periods of daily rain. Sometimes we'll get thunder and lightning as well. The rain keeps Joanna indoors, but the only place she can really go is the little park near our house. And the grass is wet from the rain, so it's not a lot of fun for her or Phuong. I like the rain because it's a respite from the heat. This is the most and steadiest monsoon rain I've seen in my nearly five years here. Global warming? Donald says no way. It matters little to me at the moment. I'm teaching only three classes a week, so the rain hasn't been a problem. In fact, I like traveling by bike in the rain because the traffic, which seems to be getting worse every day, is much lighter when there's a downpour.
However, cars have started racing up and down our little street now, blaring their horns as they go. They never slow down for children. Hit and run can be a problem here and I've been a victim three times from other motorbike riders. So even when we use a stroller to transport Joanna, we're a little nervous because, like I said, cars don't slow down and neither do bikes. Two teens were showing up and showing off at the park near our house on a little motorbike, and they started riding near us, swerving as they approached. Phuong shooed them away, and later they crashed doing the same nonsense. The bike was broken and one of the kids got scraped up, but none of the eight people in the park helped them. Just desserts.
Phuong is trying to get a Canadian tourist visa so we can take a vacation to Prince Edward Island for a month. It's no issue for me and Joanna -- we can pretty much go wherever and whenever we please. We're Americans. But everything involving travel seems problematic for my wonderful wife Phuong. Our lawyer filed a freedom of information act with the U.S. State Department to obtain all of Phuong's records so we can find out what the heck happened the last time she applied for a U.S. Spousal Visa with her first husband. We applied for the FOI in March and haven't heard back yet. I've been told that anything involving the U.S. State Department can take at least a year before there's a response. Wake up, Donald! I really, really, really don't want Joanna going to school here. And it's not because of the schools or teachers. I'm not informed enough to have an opinion. The traffic and the way people ride and drive are what worry me. Crazy, huh?
We took Joanna to a "play area" at Vincom, the local mall. I hated it -- noise, lights, gimmicks, games. There's a $4 entrance fee -- give or take a dong or two -- and you have to take off your shoes and wear a wristband. The staff of young people couldn't have been more sour. All the games -- which cost extra -- had bright, flashing, colorful lights that Joanna seemed interested in. Otherwise, she didn't really care for any of the crap there. Smart kid. They have more places like this in the U.S. and I hope Joanna doesn't like them there, either.
Phuong has returned to the tennis court and it's looking like I won't be much competition for her. Like most folks here, she relentlessly follows the directions of her tennis teacher, practicing over and over until she executes flawlessly. Her forehands have a natural topspin and she continually hits the corners and paints the baseline with her ground strokes now. She always ran well, so that's not an issue. Her backhand is solid and improving. Her serve needs work, but if she improves that aspect of her game, things could get real ugly for me. My serve is the only thing that keeps things interesting.
And I have always refused coaching of any sort in any sports -- or anything else for that matter. It hasn't hurt my golf game, for example. I consistently shoot in the 70s -- on the front nine. But at 62 years old, the mind still remembers the glory days. I used to run OK for a fat man and was able to chase down shots that would surprise even quality tennis players. But those days are gone. Forget the glory days. Now, I live in the gory haze. No worries. I'm fat anyway, according to people who learn English from me. And old.
However, cars have started racing up and down our little street now, blaring their horns as they go. They never slow down for children. Hit and run can be a problem here and I've been a victim three times from other motorbike riders. So even when we use a stroller to transport Joanna, we're a little nervous because, like I said, cars don't slow down and neither do bikes. Two teens were showing up and showing off at the park near our house on a little motorbike, and they started riding near us, swerving as they approached. Phuong shooed them away, and later they crashed doing the same nonsense. The bike was broken and one of the kids got scraped up, but none of the eight people in the park helped them. Just desserts.
Phuong is trying to get a Canadian tourist visa so we can take a vacation to Prince Edward Island for a month. It's no issue for me and Joanna -- we can pretty much go wherever and whenever we please. We're Americans. But everything involving travel seems problematic for my wonderful wife Phuong. Our lawyer filed a freedom of information act with the U.S. State Department to obtain all of Phuong's records so we can find out what the heck happened the last time she applied for a U.S. Spousal Visa with her first husband. We applied for the FOI in March and haven't heard back yet. I've been told that anything involving the U.S. State Department can take at least a year before there's a response. Wake up, Donald! I really, really, really don't want Joanna going to school here. And it's not because of the schools or teachers. I'm not informed enough to have an opinion. The traffic and the way people ride and drive are what worry me. Crazy, huh?
We took Joanna to a "play area" at Vincom, the local mall. I hated it -- noise, lights, gimmicks, games. There's a $4 entrance fee -- give or take a dong or two -- and you have to take off your shoes and wear a wristband. The staff of young people couldn't have been more sour. All the games -- which cost extra -- had bright, flashing, colorful lights that Joanna seemed interested in. Otherwise, she didn't really care for any of the crap there. Smart kid. They have more places like this in the U.S. and I hope Joanna doesn't like them there, either.
Phuong has returned to the tennis court and it's looking like I won't be much competition for her. Like most folks here, she relentlessly follows the directions of her tennis teacher, practicing over and over until she executes flawlessly. Her forehands have a natural topspin and she continually hits the corners and paints the baseline with her ground strokes now. She always ran well, so that's not an issue. Her backhand is solid and improving. Her serve needs work, but if she improves that aspect of her game, things could get real ugly for me. My serve is the only thing that keeps things interesting.
And I have always refused coaching of any sort in any sports -- or anything else for that matter. It hasn't hurt my golf game, for example. I consistently shoot in the 70s -- on the front nine. But at 62 years old, the mind still remembers the glory days. I used to run OK for a fat man and was able to chase down shots that would surprise even quality tennis players. But those days are gone. Forget the glory days. Now, I live in the gory haze. No worries. I'm fat anyway, according to people who learn English from me. And old.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Returning to love, heat, traffic, idiots and kindness
There was a period of adjustment when I returned to Bien Hoa, Vietnam, after being gone for six weeks in the United States. I'm happy to report that my daughter Joanna remembered me. In fact, she's so pleased I'm back that she cries when I leave the room. She cries when I go to work. She cries when I go to the bathroom. The adjustment? I can't do anything now without Joanna being with me. This, folks, is a wonderful adjustment. Of course, being with my wife is a tiny adjustment since we're adults in love. But I suspect Phuong may be just a little jealous of Joanna's obsession with her 62-year-old dad. But just like before I left, Joanna seems happiest when mom and dad are together.
Joanna was walking before I left, but now she's 14 months old and running, climbing, drinking without a "sippy" cup, using a straw and chewing her food with 14 teeth. She has a sense of humor as well, kissing her mom when I ask for a kiss, then looking at me and laughing when I act mad and jealous. Phuong is also happy I'm back, because she has a little more help now taking care of Joanna. Her family was eager to chip in when I left, but Joanna apparently really missed her dad and could only handle the relatives in small doses. Joanna seems a little behind in her speaking, in her pushy dad's opinion, but I attribute this to the fact she's dealing with two languages. However, when I called myself "Dada," Joanna corrected me and said "Daddy."
Meanwhile, I was so happy to see three of my four children and my one beautiful granddaughter in the U.S. during my visit. My kids are all doing so well; that was clearly the highlight of the trip. Also, thanks to John, Richard, Lynda and the folks in SLO for their wonderful hospitality as I dealt with my brother's death.
Another adjustment upon my return to Vietnam -- somewhat unpleasant I might add -- is the weather. You guys know this routine. It's hot as hell, I sweat like a pig, and people ask me why I'm sweating when it's 96 F with 91 percent humidity. On the bright side, I'm quickly losing the weight I picked up in the U.S. where I ate quality food (especially Gus's Sandwiches in San Luis Obispo, and cheesecake and ice cream at Lotus Vietnamese restaurant in San Luis Obispo, owned by Ngoc Thuy, who also goes by Alex. A lovely Vietnamese woman.)
I've had a handful of classes since I've returned, all kids or teenagers. They've been a little wild, but for some reason I'm more patient now than I was before. I still don't tolerate bad words and over the top behavior from the kids, but I give them a longer leash when it comes to misbehavior and speaking in Vietnamese. I went though a difficult time in the U.S., and maybe the kids can sense this. I've always liked the students here.
My blog wouldn't be complete (or be my blog, for that matter) if I didn't bitch and moan about a couple of things. But there's good and bad to report. Traffic, specifically automobile traffic, seems to have doubled since I left. And the idiots behind the wheel do the same nonsense motorbike drivers do -- never yield; turn onto busy roads without stopping, yielding, or looking; and constantly lay on their horns. Last week, a drunk on a motorbike roared past me by crossing the yellow line, then cut me off and slammed on the breaks in front of me. I yelled at him and he screamed back at me, got off his bike, and was ready to fight. I stopped and approached, then saw that he was wobbly and drunk. If I had pounded his stupid ass, I would have been wrong in the eyes of the locals. If he had pounded my stupid ass, I would have been wrong in the eyes of the locals. I gritted my teeth and went home.
The next day, on my walk, two morons on a bike ran into me AFTER I had crossed the street. They cut the corner so sharply that their bike turned into the oncoming traffic lane and banged into my leg. They took off, of course, but an older gentleman chased them down on his bike, made them stop, and gave them a lecture. I cheered from the sidelines. On the same walk, a woman at a little candy stand gave me one big bag to consolidate all the little bags I had accumulated by shopping. I was struggling with all the little bags and the cane I use when I walk, and the lady saw this and gave me the bag. A lovely lady, indeed. And on the same walk, my cane accidentally got tangled up in some clown's motorbike, and he started screaming at me. I was in no mood at this point, so I threw 100,000 dong at him, got on my knees and "begged" his forgiveness. He looked and felt stupid, I'm proud to say. He was the aggressor and the one screaming, but people ran out from nearby Thuy Nga coffee shop to "restrain" me. I got off my knees, picked up my money and went home. I no longer walk, and don't go anywhere in town unless Phuong and Joanna are with me. As a man of chi, it's all yin and yang to me. The bottom line: I love my family here and in the U.S.
Joanna was walking before I left, but now she's 14 months old and running, climbing, drinking without a "sippy" cup, using a straw and chewing her food with 14 teeth. She has a sense of humor as well, kissing her mom when I ask for a kiss, then looking at me and laughing when I act mad and jealous. Phuong is also happy I'm back, because she has a little more help now taking care of Joanna. Her family was eager to chip in when I left, but Joanna apparently really missed her dad and could only handle the relatives in small doses. Joanna seems a little behind in her speaking, in her pushy dad's opinion, but I attribute this to the fact she's dealing with two languages. However, when I called myself "Dada," Joanna corrected me and said "Daddy."
Meanwhile, I was so happy to see three of my four children and my one beautiful granddaughter in the U.S. during my visit. My kids are all doing so well; that was clearly the highlight of the trip. Also, thanks to John, Richard, Lynda and the folks in SLO for their wonderful hospitality as I dealt with my brother's death.
Another adjustment upon my return to Vietnam -- somewhat unpleasant I might add -- is the weather. You guys know this routine. It's hot as hell, I sweat like a pig, and people ask me why I'm sweating when it's 96 F with 91 percent humidity. On the bright side, I'm quickly losing the weight I picked up in the U.S. where I ate quality food (especially Gus's Sandwiches in San Luis Obispo, and cheesecake and ice cream at Lotus Vietnamese restaurant in San Luis Obispo, owned by Ngoc Thuy, who also goes by Alex. A lovely Vietnamese woman.)
I've had a handful of classes since I've returned, all kids or teenagers. They've been a little wild, but for some reason I'm more patient now than I was before. I still don't tolerate bad words and over the top behavior from the kids, but I give them a longer leash when it comes to misbehavior and speaking in Vietnamese. I went though a difficult time in the U.S., and maybe the kids can sense this. I've always liked the students here.
My blog wouldn't be complete (or be my blog, for that matter) if I didn't bitch and moan about a couple of things. But there's good and bad to report. Traffic, specifically automobile traffic, seems to have doubled since I left. And the idiots behind the wheel do the same nonsense motorbike drivers do -- never yield; turn onto busy roads without stopping, yielding, or looking; and constantly lay on their horns. Last week, a drunk on a motorbike roared past me by crossing the yellow line, then cut me off and slammed on the breaks in front of me. I yelled at him and he screamed back at me, got off his bike, and was ready to fight. I stopped and approached, then saw that he was wobbly and drunk. If I had pounded his stupid ass, I would have been wrong in the eyes of the locals. If he had pounded my stupid ass, I would have been wrong in the eyes of the locals. I gritted my teeth and went home.
The next day, on my walk, two morons on a bike ran into me AFTER I had crossed the street. They cut the corner so sharply that their bike turned into the oncoming traffic lane and banged into my leg. They took off, of course, but an older gentleman chased them down on his bike, made them stop, and gave them a lecture. I cheered from the sidelines. On the same walk, a woman at a little candy stand gave me one big bag to consolidate all the little bags I had accumulated by shopping. I was struggling with all the little bags and the cane I use when I walk, and the lady saw this and gave me the bag. A lovely lady, indeed. And on the same walk, my cane accidentally got tangled up in some clown's motorbike, and he started screaming at me. I was in no mood at this point, so I threw 100,000 dong at him, got on my knees and "begged" his forgiveness. He looked and felt stupid, I'm proud to say. He was the aggressor and the one screaming, but people ran out from nearby Thuy Nga coffee shop to "restrain" me. I got off my knees, picked up my money and went home. I no longer walk, and don't go anywhere in town unless Phuong and Joanna are with me. As a man of chi, it's all yin and yang to me. The bottom line: I love my family here and in the U.S.
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