My Vietnamese daughter came into my life in 2013 and from the beginning we made plans to return to Vietnam together.  We set the date of February 2016, and at the time it seemed a long way away.  Those two years flew by and suddenly I was in Saigon, and then Da Nang, living a dual reality.  My mind would flip back 44 years with a smell, a familiar sight, the singular sound of the market, a fleeting expression on a familiar face. Just as quickly I would be snapped back to the present, and then the process would repeat itself over and over during my two week stay.

I didn’t set out to write a book.  I was writing in a leather-bound journal several times a day, Much of what I wrote in the beginning was the mundane stuff of travel journals, where we went, what we ate, what we saw along the way.  but as the journey progressed, I noticed that I was writing about what I heard, the people I was meeting for the first time, the way I felt and my memories of a time long gone began to blend with The Story.

The Story became personal to me in a way that insisted that I tell it.  I conducted hours of oral history while in Vietnam.

As the stories piled up around me I became aware that I was but a minor player in this saga yet viscerally connected at each and every twist and turn.  In a few days I will be back in Vietnam to complete the oral histories needed to fill in the blanks in the narrative.  Only a few remain who actually lived through that period and are willing to talk about it.  Two-thirds of Vietnam’s population today was born after 1975 and have no personal recollection of the war years.

I will be traveling with my dauntless companion, Granddaughter Lynda.  She is fluent in Vietnamese and English (if with a strong Texas accent!).  Lynda’s role as interpreter and researcher is imperative to the success of this project, God grant her patience as I fumble my way through this.

I didn’t set out to write a book, but Lena’s incredible odyssey demands it.  It is my honor to tell that story.