A Memorial Day Surprise

So Tania and I have been back in the States for two months now, and we've filled our time with family, friends, memories, and planning for the next phase in our life together.  We've spent countless hours with our 14 month old nephew Ian and seen him start walking and almost start talking, all the while seen his personality blossom into the most unbelievable little boy around.  We've visited our friends in LA for a bachelor party (Matt DeVille's), to visit friends, to dance our asses off at Coachella, and to celebrate our friends Luke and Thu at their wedding in San Diego.  We joined thousands of people down at the state capital to protest the SB 1070 law.  We've climbed 6 of the 7 summits in Phoenix (your ours next time South Mountain!).  We rooted on the Suns as they beat the Spurs and fought hard but eventually losing to the Lakers in the Western Conference finals.  We've eaten at amazing restaurants and visited beautiful parks like the Botanical Gardens.  And we've spent as much time with the Palumbos as possible knowing that we'd be moving on to the east with the Shershins soon enough.

Our last weekend in Arizona was spent with Tony, Anna Marie, Scott, Emily, Ian, and plenty of family friends playing golf, poker, Scattergories, and barbecuing together in the incredibly gorgeous setting of Forest Highlands.  It was the perfect way to spend quality time with Craig's family before heading onto a fun cross-country trip starting the Tuesday after Memorial Day. 

All in all, the two months after we got back from Asia were filled with family and friends, allowing us to ease back into the pace that only this country can provide.  And we were reminded of all the reasons we love this country so.  But one story from this weekend reminded us of our time in Vietnam, and of why we all get a day off during this national holiday of Memorial Day.

Today, I played the first 9 holes at the Canyon course of Forest Highlands just with my father, Tony, and his brother Mike.  After 9, Mike walked back to his house and a member of the group behind us asked to join Tony and me in our 2some.  Of course we accepted and he tee'd off with us at 10 while introducing ourselves.  When he heard our last name, he asked whether we were related to the kicker from Notre Dame 10 or so years ago.  When we told him Scott was indeed our brother/son and that Ton had attended ND law school, conversation progressed to uncover that both this new member of our group, John, and Tony had been in Vinh Long, Vietnam, in 1969.  Then after much more astonishing discussion about this coincidence, they realized that John's company was moving into the same floor of Tony's building on Central Blvd in Phoenix.  This definition of "it's a small world" blew us away along with the cloudless and windless skies above the Canyon course, a site to be seen by itself.  Yet with this random occurrence happening in the middle of our round together, it was a story to be told as soon as we got off the course.

Any way, this memory of taking Tony back to Vinh Long for the first time since he was there 40 years ago reminded us not only of the incredible time we had with him and my mother there, but of how small of a world it is that we live.  We're grateful of the service they provided, ironically on this Memorial Day weekend, and grateful of the ability we have to relate to the land in which they served so long ago. 

Thought you'd want to hear that story.  We're off to the Grand Canyon tomorrow, then onto the cross-country trip on Tuesday.  Check-in with you soon.

Days 102-104 Saturday-Monday February 20-22 Vinh Long & Can Tho, Vietnam

40 years ago, one week after my parents got married, my father Tony left to fight in the Vietnam War.  He spent 16 months defending our country in a conflict that many people vehemently opposed.  He left his new wife and fought nonetheless, because that was what was asked of him, and because he couldn’t neglect his duty.

He was primarily stationed in Vinh Long, a small town off of the Mekong River, in the heart of the Mekong Delta.  It was a tiny town of a few thousand people centered around a large church located a few hundred yards away from the main city circle.  40 years later, that church and city circle were all that my dad recognized.  Other than those two landmarks, the entire city had exploded, for a lack of a better word.  There are now many thousands (just over a million people in the Vinh Long province) of people living in the city, and the city edges extend much further into the Vietnamese countryside than it did the last time he was here.

 In a way this was good, because Tony could see that these people had moved on, grown, persevered in the eyes of a horrific war.  In a way it was a reality check because it showed that life can thrive inside the evil communist society we had fought so hard against for so long.  This wasn’t the cold, hard streets of Moscow that we’ve come to imagine, but instead these people were happy maintaining old traditions like rice farming and grasping modern living with its cell phones and techno music.  No matter what we thought, though, this was not the city my dad remembered, and that provided a good dose of closure on that chapter of his life.

Reminiscing on the banks of the Mekong River.

This being the Mekong Delta, we had to cross several water ways via ferry before we arrived at our hotel in Can Tho.   Here we were able to relax while recovering from what was an emotional yet rewarding day.

The following day we chartered a private long boat to take us through the floating market.  Literally, vendors and buyers congregate on one stretch of the river to buy and sell locally grown produce.  It’s a wonder that we had never seen this type of market before, but it works perfectly for these people, and should work for any water-based community.

Kids selling soda to passing tourists while their parents sell produce to other locals.

The boat then took us through some local canals and stopped at the bank of a rice factory.  Here we were greeted by a man who sported the world’s greatest lucky hair, and were shown the grounds by his associate.  Before this stop, we never knew that rice is grown with a husk, and is processed to remove this husk and sort it by its proper classification.  And for those of you who don’t know there are more types of rice than white and brown, you’re in for a surprise.  Wow.  That’s the type of info you pick up while touring through the world’s largest rice exporter.

The world's greatest lucky hair.

 A bridge over one of the Can Tho canals.

 

Having our full of river-based exploration, it was time to get back to Saigon before flying out to Cambodia.  We were sad to be leaving Mr. Un so soon, especially his octave-shattering laugh, but we had seen everything in this region that we had hoped, especially Tony, so we were ready to move onto the ancient lands of Angkor Wat.