Half-Century Mark

50 years after the fall of Saigon.

50 years ago today Saigon fell, and that changed the trajectory of my family's life, and marked the beginning of the Viet diaspora. We were actually supposed to get off the ship we had boarded a few days before (because 6-week-old Sissy was dangerously ill, sleeping on an open ship deck; another infant - older than her, younger than me - had already died, and had a burial at sea - tossed overboard), but once South Vietnam fell, the ship wouldn't stop and headed out of newly Communist Vietnamese waters. Drinking water was rationed, so the first word 13-month-old me learned and spoke was "drink."

An article about our family and our American sponsors was published in a local paper close to 7.5 months later, when we were relatively safe, after the refugee camps, after the rebuffed attempt to settle in Tunisia, after temporary holding on an American military base. A photo shows me on Papa Rooster's lap, looking out at the camera, in serious toddler mode; Sissy is on Mama Hen's lap, chubby and cute, hand stuck in her mouth, being cooed over by the president of the ladies' auxiliary club that spearheaded our resettlement. Papa Rooster clipped out the article and put it into an album. He also has the centerfold photo essay published in a national magazine one year later marking the first anniversary of "Ngày Mất Nước" (the "Day the Country Was Lost"), where he happened to spy his platoon mates sitting among a large group, on the ground, at a jungle re-education camp.

If today you know what phở or bánh mì or cà phê sữa đá or summer rolls are, or have used the bottle of sriracha with the rooster on the label and the green cap, it is because 50 years ago people who lost a war and feared (rightly) retaliation against them by the incoming Communists fled the only land most of them had ever known and became refugees, leaving their families and ties and place in the world.

Bitter Chill

The irony that this inauguration should fall on the day that MLK, Jr.'s birthday is observed is lost on few who witness this transition with trepidation.

View out the door to the Jardin...

...and then on to the park, where miniature snow people and many pigeons were taking a view of the river.

That today's outgoing Executive branch pardons were contemplated, then determined necessary, is chilling. That the incoming pardons were granted was disgraceful.

What I was able to do today: Not be counted in viewership. Mother Nature graced us with snow; I went sledding with my bestie, my Sissy. 

Joy and connection are a new form of protest, the strengthening of bonds and community to battle the misinformation and divisiveness that they hope to achieve. Taking refuge in this storm, practicing some self care, pacing my outrage. This will be a marathon.

On this holiday celebrating the reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., it is helpful to remember that he reminded us that "the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." Storing up my reserves and strength to help keep that arc bending.

Vegetarian options aplenty at Effy's! Including seitan shawarma!

New Quarter Century

Day 1 of 2025, and the start of a new (yes, admittedly arbitrary) collection of years and period of time.

Happy new year!

First time ringing in the new year at a concert! A New York favorite and son, soundtrack to my early years, Billy Joel is the source of the familiar rhythms and songs of home people. Always a terrific show! First time at UBS Arena, too - and, I was pleasantly surprised by the variety of food vendors, including a spot to get a falafel bowl (yay for vegetarian options!) from the halal place! The Island may sometimes veer questionably politically, but maybe diversity of diet and cuisine - and people and culture - is already subtly and firmly ingrained (fingers crossed).

The genesis of this New Year's Eve excursion was a high school friend/live music fanatic's open call to join him for this show; the plan had been to tag along with a certain Plume Chasing Friend, a Billy fan who has yet to see him in concert and has that as a lifetime bucket list item. Sissy got wind and had FOMO, so signed up to join the fun with her dude. But, as the coin fell, Lady Luck had other plans - Plume Chaser accepted his New York City-based position to be closer to home for holidays and other family affairs knowing there could and would be travel 40-75% of the time; we always knew there was an outside chance of his not being around for Christmas (let alone NYE), and the outside chance  beat the odds. Plume Chaser was deployed to tend to an emergent situation right before Christmas. It was a bit of a scramble, but I found a ticket buyer amongst acquaintances to salvage the financial loss; we forged ahead and had our partially envisioned NYE (and he found some friends abroad to spend the evening and day). One of these days, hopefully I'll get to see Plume Chaser enjoy his inaugural Billy Joel concert; I promised I'd go again for that.

Billy kept us out way past the ball drop. The late night out necessitated a late morning in, that gave way to a family outing (plus Sissy's dude) for shabu shabu buffet of both satiating quantities for the belly and cleansing and replenishing foods for the body; hot pot was a perfect first meal of the year...

... plentiful vegetarian choices - noodles for longevity and health, so many different greens for wealth of all kinds. And, I succeeded in perfectly poaching my egg in my hot pot broth - set white, runny yolk! Plus, my self-composed dipping sauce was terrific; I don't know why I never did this before, but discovered today the magic of using it to toss and dress my cooked noodles. So yummy!

Sooo much food on offer. But this year, I am working on moderating. First off, by limiting myself to a single trip to the buffet, that still yielded a very full plate and bowl of generous proportions; I was full, I didn't need more, and still had room for two desserts. The lunch price was very reasonable, even if I didn't make "the most" of the food; it was enough. Secondly, with the concept of abundance, with the idea that there is, and will be, more - of everything - out there if I need it; trying to let go a little bit of the scarcity mindset that has dominated my life, and led to squirreling away in many areas that do not serve me well anymore. Not just food, but material things, work assignments, tasks. Back to food, though, healthwise, my personal results combined with family history and the recent wake up call, moderation of sugar, salt, fats seem like a no brainer. There is time, and I have an opportunity, to steer toward a healthier, more balanced future all around. There's the outline of a plan for the year ahead.

We got back to the Mothership to a beautiful first sunset of the year.

And back in the city at home, I made myself a healthy quick meal of a cold rice (more complex carbs) based bowl of black-eyed peas (to ward off evil and usher in abundance), more greens for wealth, and some of the final terrace tomatoes for color and pop, unified with random salad dressing packet from the fridge.

Good starts and good intentions!

Noel Novelties

Celebrating the holidays, with some adjustments for beloveds working through the aftermath of a stroke.

The skinny new Christmas tree fit just within the height of the living room atop the end table, with its floppy tinsel star topper skimming the ceiling.

After Papa Rooster's stroke, we had to make some adjustments to the usual Christmas rituals at the Mothership, but, happily, we were able to keep a lot of the elements of "our" Christmas. And, we even tried out some holiday traditions that were entirely novel to us.

Before it got its glow up.

We debuted a new skinny tree that had already been in the wings to replace the artificial tree that served the last few decades; it was a Sissy Buy Nothing score after last year's Christmas season. Skinny is simply more in scale with New York City living; even though the Mothership is a standalone house (rare-ish for the city), and in quasi-suburban, relatively spacious eastern Queens, it's modestly sized compared to mainstream American homes that host the vast majority of the tall and stout Christmas trees on the market. The skinny tree is just less intrusive of the living room footprint. And the old tree was starting to shed as many needles as a live one, so the skinny tree had been primed to succeed it anyway. That its stage was the top of an end table on level with the sofa, though, was a post-stroke decision to leave more floor space for Papa Rooster to navigate with his walker or cane.

How grateful we are that Papa Rooster is progressing, and that we were all in a state of mind for holiday celebrations, period. In some ways, we needed the holiday decor and normalcy to boost his spirits, to shift the focus away from the things he can't do like he used to - yet. 

The main gifts for him and Mama Hen (as in recent years past, wrapped in the holiday fabrics returning for repeat duty under the tree) were tech gadgets that will make it easier to detect falls and summon help; tips picked up from other sandwich generation friends with more experience keeping tabs on their own aging parents. A self-driving vehicle wasn't in the budget this year, but now that the idea is lodged in my noggin, it's on the back burner list for whenever one of our vehicles bites the dust.

The stockings were hung by the stereo with care - having migrated from the less accessible stair railing - but still staged near the backdrop of the classic televised Yule Log of old...

... opposite the skinny tree that still held my most favorite soldier clothespin ornament by Lil' Bro, and a childhood-painted Snoopy one, amongst all the other usual tree baubles, ...

...erected near the window adorned with the decades old Rudolph and Santa, lit through the evening late into Christmas Eve...

... after our Reveillon meal (we usually have Vietnamese)...

This year, in adding to the Yule Log, we had Carole and Paula from The Magic Garden Christmas, harkening back to the original days of the newly trendy again Gen X-cess decor with its fully saturated colors and trees and interiors. I mean, our family never wavered from that look; stick with something and it's bound to be fashionable again at some point.

Completely new for our house was the ginger toast house trend - less sugar than gingerbread cookies (sugar is a no-no for the stroke-inclined); I just need to figure out the icing consistency and get a proper tip....

... And then there were the sweet roll faux sufganiyot - this one worked quite well, and will definitely make a future holiday appearance. Yummy, scummy! 

So not eliminating sugar altogether, just aiming for less.

Going for all the fun, more sensibly and in line with what our challenges are today.

Winter Solstice, and Soups

First freezing snowfall and warming winter soups.

Snowy sidewalks - before I shoveled them extra well, knowing Papa would soon step out. I needn't have worried, considering how well he did.

The first measurable snowfall yesterday, and the frigid temperatures, arrived perfectly aligned to the solstice. We coped with soups at the nearest Vietnamese spot.

Bún bò Huế for Papa.

In between, I shuttled Mama Hen and Papa Rooster to an early morning appointment (that clarified my need to get more involved overseeing their affairs) and to run errands, notable for Papa's insistence on eschewing the walker in favor of using only a cane, an especially encouraging development considering the slushy and slippery sidewalks. Another sign of progress: his stamina to be out for hours. 

Maybe because he gets out and about so much less than he used to, he also demanded that we have lunch out - at the Vietnamese place near them that caters more to the local (scarcely Vietnamese - I know of only us) crowd. Mama seems sometimes slightly put off that he'd choose food below her very demanding standards for Vietnamese over home cooking, at which she excels. I'm fairly ambivalent - I suppose I've been out of the house for too long, and am ok if I get anything that resembles Vietnamese, recognizing the value of convenience and accessibility when I am unwilling to put forth the effort. Papa seems mostly drawn to lively atmospheres (he adores Applebee, where he insisted we eat last weekend; he took the walker then, when Mama thought he might need the wheelchair) - and an Instagram search to tag this place shows their strategy to fill the void of places for the millennials and Z'ers to hang out in this otherwise sleepy corner of Queens (I mean, they're in Williamsburg, too, for crying out loud).

Phở for Mama.

Anyway, we each got different soups; mine hit the spot - a warm reward for a Saturday morning's first day of Winter extra effort. All coping mechanisms for the Winter doldrums are welcome in these parts! Seasonal affective disorder is real.

Curry soup - thrilled for the vegetarian option!

As a postscript to the doldrums, Sissy, who has been in Florida for her bf's birthday, let us know that his mother was hospitalized with a suspected TIA - uncanny. 'Tis the season for parental plagues for us X'ers.

But now, the days start to get longer!! Gradually, a little more light each day.

Maybe Papa's progress can match pace (by nightfall, he was able to climb into his own bed - that of the super thick mattress set high atop the traditional box spring) and there will be another small celebration when the next solstice comes around 🤞(with a return to more normal household routines - WFH and vacation days used for working from home and vacations, or our own catch up housekeeping, rather than round the clock vigils to prevent falls and stroke-proofing the Mothership; but how thankful I am to have transitioned to a workplace where I feel supported to exercise the flexibility to participate with the sibs in all of this, and not just delegate to them). 

Papa said at lunch today that when he is recovered, he will host his friends at today's lunch spot; inshallah, as my Bird Nerd friend would say - Inshallah!

Fallen

Fallen leaves, fallen people.

The last few evenings' rain and wind have brought down most of the remaining leaves, plastering them to wet sidewalks.

A few weeks back, though, before the freezes, when drought felt much more prevalent, full Autumn was still in the air and the fallen foliage crunched in the best way underfoot, a crispy carpet on the Mothership lawn - likely to the chagrin of Papa Rooster, who in normal times would have raked them almost the moment they had landed.

But he, too, had fallen, several times, and after the second discharge from the hospital over a four night stay, was confined indoors - he, and all of the rest of us, navigating his new limitations around the weakness to his left side. Standing, walking, chewing, speaking were out in those early days, to say nothing of leaf raking. (Some measure of those abilities have since been regained with the start of physical and occupational therapies.) In his questioning - why this, why him? - he has arrived at an answer: The days before it happened, he had raked large piles of leaves, gone around back to get a bag, and upon returning found them blown about by the wind, and absentmindedly he cursed the skies and the gods for ruining his work, and so all of this was his due punishment. Sweet Papa Rooster.

And so it was that those several weekends ago he had to suffer from inside the house the sight of his lawn being left deliberately leafy for insects and others to have shelter over Winter, for the foliage to feed the lawn, lightly neatened only by raking up some small heaps into planting beds for natural mulching and fertilizing by me, his crunchy eldest, imposing upon his front yard the newfangled philosophies of minimal, nature-mimicking lawn care. And as I did it, I daydreamed about ridding the Mothership of much of its lawn altogether, in favor of native options to feed the pollinators... but stopped myself from getting too far ahead; I foresee, I hope, for more, more years and years of this being HIS lawn, raked his way, by him, that this Fall will turn out to be but a mere interlude, and I but a premature interloper.

We were fortunate (the doctors have said that of course no one wishes a stroke, but if one had to have befallen, this was the stroke to have). Years and years more would be fortunate. As I typed, I paused and chose carefully, for a decade might be Icarian; I am old enough, have been for a while, to know that people, as the leaves, have their seasons.

Thankful

It's been a mixed bag month, but these are the times that bring into stark relief our blessings, and Thanksgiving came at just the right time to mark and reflect.

So grateful for our full table; may nourishment flow to all, the world over, especially in the areas experiencing war and conflict - that peace might return so people can prepare the meals of their choice and gather with those they love, that stability might prevail so there are enough resources and distribution channels to feed everyone. So grateful for the family with whom I shared this bountiful meal; may all feel love and companionship, even if only from afar.

Our traditional Thanksgiving feast that is quintessentially American because it's a hodgepodge of some Vietnamese that appears quite "American" and some straight up American:

📷📷Star of the table/plate, "baby turkey" (a Mama Hen fib in my lower grade school years because I wanted what I learned about in school, a fantasy that all blew up when I was old enough to read, climbed on a chair, and spied the label with the cooking instructions for the broiler CHICKEN on the counter), deftly deboned other than drumsticks and wings by Mama Hen, and stuffed with sticky rice (xôi) with ham, Chinese sausage, shitake mushrooms, onions, chestnuts (this variation is our family's, but apparently stuffing poultry with xôi is a part of Vietnamese cuisine). The green bean bed accented with cranberries was my design/culinary innovation this year - an additional side that we might want to eat that is also visually appealing and fills the margins of the platter better. My aspiration had been to toss it in a mustard accented sauce, but it really didn't need it; the cranberries were meant to go into dessert and I had set them aside, but they weren't needed there, and worked perfectly here.

Missing the corn that was still in the kitchen.

Missing the bowl of soup that started the meal.

📷Asparagus crab egg drop soup (xúp mang cua 🦀), prepared by Mama Hen.

📷Roasted root and other vegetables (turnips, rainbow carrots, fennel, cauliflower stalk and leaves), cooked under the chicken, accented with fennel fronds. I learned that cauliflower leaves are edible (already knew fennel fronds are), so less food waste! I am always in charge of the veg; it makes use of the drippings, it's another side, adds moisture to the oven for the chicken, serves as a natural roasting rack, if needed.

📷Potato/cauliflower mash - lighter, healthier. I've made this modification for years now, and it suits our family just fine. Scallions were supposed to be for another side dish that got scuttled.

📷Mushroom gravy. Since I own the potato mash, I own the gravy, as well. Though this year, I needed Mama Hen to help me out with mushroom chopping.

📷Charred brussel sprouts. Sissy likes to take on this dish. Good thing, because when she made plans to have lunch with Thanksgiving orphans in the city, I had originally planned to handle all the sides, which really wasn't realistic.

📷Buttered sauteed corn. Another Sissy creation. Simple this year, and better for it.

📷Simple salad - freshness to offset all the cooked dishes. Lil' Bro's contribution, from a tub, with bottled dressing - I assigned him to it and he made the decisions that were true to him, and it was better for it. Meet people where they are, and let go of the management burden.

📷Apple dessert - successful debut! Inspiration courtesy of my internet search for desserts using apple and puff pastry; it's all in the presentation.

📷Cranberry clementine walnut tart - this year I sugared the zest to sprinkle as a finishing touch, in hopes of adding sweetness to balance the overly tart feedback of years past, and it makes the zest stand out instead of just disappearing into the filling. I realized I'd never added salt in prior versions, and I think that will help, as well. We were too full to try it; it will accompany leftovers lunch, instead.

This year felt better-sized - abundant, but not obnoxiously extraneous. And that's after three dishes were omitted! (No pumpkin pie due to eating on sale pumpkin pie in the lead up to the holiday; no grilled sweet potatoes with chili crisp due on account of time/equipment constraints that derailed the final grilling of the already roasted said tubers; no fried shrimp that Mama Hen had purchased in quantities when the plan was to host the Thanksgiving orphans because we were only our nuclear five, and there were already plenty of dishes, and we were supposed to simplify this year.) Will record all of this in my spreadsheet so we can keep what works and strive for better next year for my most favorite meal/holiday of the year.😊

Me, at the supermarket, at around 1pm Thanksgiving afternoon. Need to work on that.

Time management and better execution will be the top priority. I mean, we were already better by sitting down at 10:30 than in some past years, but, really, I think we could get to 6:30. That is what we will shoot for next year. Goals.