Writing today about two 19 year old lovers in war-torn 1971 Vietnam teaching each other to speak their respective languages.  Not the language of things, but the language of feeling and want and hope.  It rained for most of the day.  Perfect day for writing scenes so delicately intimate that I imagine them being read by flashlight under the bedcovers during a storm that has robbed any possibility of household electricity.   I looked up to see this scene out the window of my apartment and I had to stop and reflect.

My young assistant on this trip to Vietnam is my 26 year old niece, Xuân Huynh.  As we were running errands in a taxi in Da Nang in the rain this morning I was struck by just how impossibly young she is.  Competent, articulate, inquisitive, she reminds me of her grandfather Dat who I have researched steadfastly and written about extensively.  Dat was my friend and one of the most interesting, engaging, and authentic  of men.  And here she is, taking Dat’s place in the world and in my imagination as the bright future of Vietnam.  Notebook always at hand, Xuân is learning English as she works as an interpreter.  Try that sometime.  To improve her English skills Xuân is reading a copy of John Steinbeck’s “The Red Pony” while listening to a narrated version accessed through Audible on her iPhone.  She makes notes and the following day asks for clarification on details like what a “bunkhouse” might be, or why when Billy Buck “curries and brushes two saddle horses” he uses spicy Indian food on the horse.  Tenacious, motivated, inspired.

I feel deeply honored that my journey to tell Lena’s story has gifted me so many times over.  Meeting and getting to know the young people of Vietnam who are her future has been a joyful, rewarding experience.  On Tuesday Xuân has organised a trip to a children’s kindergarten in Quang Nam Province so that we can view the work of a Da Nang non-profit, Children of Vietnam, that works to provide better lives for disadvantaged indigenous children living in rural Vietnam.  Not something we had planned on this trip, but a strong reminder that there are no accidents, only fate by a different name.  Thank you Xuân for all your help and particularly your unflinching faith in this journey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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