Another day has gone, another day lived.

Sitting here at Tolino’s again, doing the thing that I do, I try to think about what to write.

Having had our yearly Family Thanksgiving get-together yesterday, I have to in a way uncompress from the hub-bub that happened yesterday. The many kids running around, playing, screaming. The many food, and the many new strangers and family members there that had to catch up and just be with.

It was a surprise, but really wasn’t that there wasn’t more family that partake on the gathering. Considering that everyone is so spread out now, off in their own little cities, busy in their own lives — doing their own thing, it’s understandable.

It seems like there was always a core group of family members that partake in these things, and it seems to me like they are more the family oriented ones. Menty, Phinny, Hien, and Loretta. The usuals I guess. I’m sure if the others could, they would be here.

Family of the previous generation is getting smaller and smaller. There, it was only mom and 14th uncle. I guess that is how it is, since he’s the only Uncle we have left up in the Northwest. Our little own Jedi Council is getting smaller and smaller and it’s just sad.

Life. Growing up. Eventually we all have to go.

The stories that are shared about the past will always be there, but the storytellers are getting smaller and smaller. Their recollections are still there, but it’s only one point of view instead of the many that I’ve heard from in the past.

Life.

Listening to the stories last night as told by 14th Uncle/Auntie and Mom, it’s a little sad at what my family had gone through, how much they have to suffer to just get to where they are now. They survived not one, but two fleeings, rebuilding their lives all over again. They gave up everything they had more times than anyone should have and gambled on a new livelihood, on a new life anywhere.

And they did that. I came from a family of survivors. WE came from a family of survivors.

* * *

It was around 1954, when Chiang Kai-shek took over the Nationalistic Revolution and forced Sun Yat-sen out of China to Taiwan.

At that time, Grandpa and Grandma have been pretty much run out of the country. Their family had to flee along with Great Uncle and Great Grandpa. Their whole family.

On my Grandpa’s side, they had to take 2nd Uncle, 3rd Uncle, 5th Uncle, 7th Uncle and 14th Uncle. 14th Uncle was around 4 at this time.

They left everything they had. They were poor. There wasn’t anything they could do.

I’m not sure where they fled to, but it was southeast China, near the Vietnamese border. Grandpa took a job at the quarry, breaking rocks. Grandma I believe made coal.

To my surprise, they had to make coal by hand. They have to squeeze the coal together into the balls that they use now. I can’t imagine how they would go about doing that, nor the dust that Grandma probably inhaled while doing it.

They didn’t ‘have much to eat at all. A nightly dinner would be congee with sweet potatoes, and the congee would mostly be water. Grandpa, grandma and maybe some of the older uncles would just drink the congee water and let 14th uncle have the actual rice.

There was another time when Grandma would take 14th uncle with her to go bargain for rice. With 14th Uncle strapped to her back, Grandma would go stall to stall asking for the vendors to give them some rice. She’ll bargain with them, give me some rice and when we get some money, we’ll pay you back. If they said no, they’ll move onto the next one.

One day, while doing this, I’m not sure if the other Uncles were with them or not, they came across a wealthy Chinaman. Instead of giving them rice or money to help out, he wanted to buy one of my grandparent’s children. Because they have so many children and they are poor, it was an option and apparently it happened a lot back them.

The Chinaman had his eye on 14th uncle and it seemed that Grandma agreed to sell him. Money exchanged hands and 14th uncle went and hid underneath the table and grabbed on for dear life to a table leg. Crying, fighting, he never let go, not wanting to go.

I guess eventually, the Chinaman relented and my grandparents decided that we will all starve together as a family then sell one of their children.

I can’t even fathom or imagine having to do something like that; having to sell one of your children so the other children wouldn’t starve. How can you choose? Would you be able to do that? Could you?

* * *

Getting to Vietnam.

It seemed that Grandma’s brother lived in North Vietnam around this time, about 1955 or so. There’s a little straight or bay or whatever that is separating China from Vietnam. Grandma’s brother studied the tides and knows when the tides would be high or low enough to cross.

Once he got it down, he passed word to my family on when to cross.

Grandpa and Grandma had to split the family in two, each having to cross at separate times. At this time Great Grandpa was with them also. Either way, they had to cross this lil’ straight/bay at different times.

Why?

Because if they get captured or gunned down, there’s still a chance that the family will not be annihilated ’cause there is still another half of the family left. The ingrained nature to have your family survive; increase the chances that your family will survive by separating them.

But, that’s what they did. They separated and they crossed at different times. I don’t know how many days or weeks between crossing, but they did it and they finally reunited in North Vietnam.

It was there that Great Grandpa died. Apparently he got buried at a top of a mountain or a really big hill. It was around the time that when we first got to the States, one of our Great Uncles went back to the burial site, collected his bones and brought it back to China for a burial.

* * *

North to South.

Like how they gave up everything to flee from China, my Grandparents gave up everything to move from North to South Vietnam, eventually ending up in Saigon.

I’m not sure of the circumstance, but they got on a big boat, like a sanctioned move, and sailed down to Saigon. There they stayed.

While they were in Saigon, there was word that there was a job opportunity to work in Long Khanh. Grandpa went by himself to do it.

The job? To clear-cut the forest to make it inhabitable. The pay? Whatever you clear-cut, the land is yours.

While he was doing it by himself, Grandma and the rest of the family stayed in Saigon. Eventually 2nd uncle went up there to help him.

Now I understood how we were able to get the farmland. That was one aspect I didn’t understand doing my years of researching and listening to the stories, how we got the farmland. I mean, if we were so poor, how were we able to pay for the land to farm.

We paid for it through manual labor, sweat and blood. Grandpa cleared his land by hand.

They would clear the outline of the land first, leaving whatever inside. The idea is to get as much land as you want, carve out the border first and worry about the inside later.

It’s kind of like the Oklahoma land race back in the day, but this is the Vietnamese clear-cutting race.

And then here we are. Again, the 70s, after the war, we gave up everything, risked our lives to get to where we are now.

A family of survivors.

* * *

The above isn’t the best writing, but I’m not going to worry about the style as the content is more important.

I’m sure I’ll come back to it on another entry later, eventually as I just let the new stories and information settle in my mind a bit. I just wanted to get it down before I forget the details of it.

Just listening to 14th Uncle and my mom tell the stories and seeing how they are able to laugh about the hardship they had endured. Even listening to Phinny laugh about the times on the boat while fleeing Vietnam, how he remembered the time at the Thai refugee camp, him fishing with a bottle and twine.

I guess once everything is okay, you can’t help but laugh at it. You kind of have to, relieved that things are finally okay. Nothing to endure anymore.

The only thing you have to worry about now is having a job, making enough money to support your family, put a roof over your head.

Life.