Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Nếu Đi Hết Biển...
In stormy seas, Vietnam's boat rolls and pitches. Still we must row; our President's hand upon the helm.
The ship of state plows through heavy seas, Holding fast its course to democracy. Our President is celebrated from Europe to Asia,
He is the image of philanthropy and love. He has sacificed himself for our happiness. He fights for liberty in the land of the Viet.
Everyone loves him earnestly, and behind him we will march. Down the street of freedom, lined with fresh flowers,
The flag of liberty crakling above our heads! ...by Le Ly hayslip..."When Heaven and Earth Changed Places"
Americans come to kill our people, Follow America, and kill your relatives! The smart bird flies before it's caught.
The smart person comes home before Tet. Follow us, and you'll always have a family. Follow America, and you'll always be alone!
..by Le Ly Hayslip..."When Heaven and Earth Changed Places"
Nều đi hết biển...to cross the ocean to the other side.... đi măi ...đi măi ...rồi sẽ đi đến chốn cũ...
Friday, November 03, 2006
VietUnity's Community Survey Project
VietUnity's Community Survey Project - Day 1:
Doorknocking in the Eastlake/San Antonio District
When: Sunday, July 16th - 2pm to 7pm
Where: Eastside Arts Alliance - 2587 International Blvd, Oakland 94601
Fun volunteer training will begin sharply at 2pm at the Eastside Arts Alliance!
You've talked with Viet elders about organizing in the Vietnamese American community. You've seen the statistics showing the need for us to organize. Now you've gotta go & hear what folks got to say on the ground!
VietUnity (VU) invites you to be a part of a team of VU volunteers who will conduct a community survey to Oakland Viet folks between the ages of 18 & 35 in the Eastlake/San Antonio District.
We ask that you participate in a fun volunteer training on Sunday, July 16th from 2pm to 3:30pm. After that, we will all split up into groups & go out into the neighborhood for a few hours of doorknocking.
Please RSVP with us by Wednesday, July 12th if you will be able to volunteer so that we can provide enough water & snacks. If you can't come on Sunday, July 16th but still want to be a part of the volunteer team, please call us & we can arrange for your volunteer orientation.
See you on Sunday, July 16th!!!
Monique Truong, "The Book of Salt"
From The New York Times Opinion, Sunday June 18 2006
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/18/opinion/18truong.html
My Father's Vietnam Syndrome
By MONIQUE TRUONG
Published: June 18, 2006
MY father never read my first novel, which was dedicated to him. He died in 2002, a year before it was published. The dedication was simple: "For my father, a traveler who has finally come home." He would have liked being called a traveler, because tucked inside this word is the story of his life. My father was not an old man by first-world standards.But at the Vietnamese-American-owned funeral home his third wife had chosen for him, the prevailing sentiment was that the deceased, age 65, was entitled to red roses on his coffin. If he had died a year earlier, the color red would not have been recommended. Red signifies the luck of having lived a long life. His funeral was held in Houston, where the yellow and red flag of the former South Vietnam flies high above suburban strip malls, a place where the sensibility of the third world can trump the first.
My father was a mixture of both. He was born in Vietnam, sent at an early age to France and England for schooling, and returned home with a Swiss wife and a baby daughter. Upon his arrival to a country that, in his absence, had split itself in half, he had to relearn its language. He could speak Vietnamese, but he could not write it. Not a business letter. Not a love letter.
My father was instead fluent in French and English, the languages that raised him. Along with his flat nose and his hot temper, I as an adult would share with him the frustration of having to reach for Vietnamese words, like an itch at the middle of our backs.
I know little about his life during the first years of his return. I know that his marriage dissolved, that his Swiss wife and babyreturned to Europe. I know that he was movie-idol dashing. I know that my mother, breathtaking at the age of 20, fell in love with him, and that he converted from Buddhism to Catholicism to marry her. His wealthy parents were relieved that this time he had chosen a Vietnamese woman, but they frowned at her family of intellectuals and dreamers. Five years later, in 1968, my mother gave birth to me, my father's second daughter and the only one of his three girls to be born in South Vietnam. Between contractions, my mother heard the sounds of bombs cratering Saigon.
A photograph shows my father in army fatigues holding me. I am crying, infant arms and legs pushing away from him. My mother tells me that this was the first time I had seen him, that I was afraid of him, of his crew cut, of his uniform.
I think the fear she remembers was hers. She was the one who knew enough to be discomforted by the sight of the movie idol dressed to die. From that awkward introduction on, whenever my father left on an overnight trip or longer, I would get a cold. Always a sniffle, a slight fever, an ache. I take that as proof that I had not feared him but loved him at first sight.
My father was not a soldier for long. He soon returned to civilian life and to his position with a Dutch-owned oil company. He was multinational, multilingual and multitalented. He was a businessman for the future of South Vietnam. Unfortunately, that country did not have a future.
In 1975, a few weeks before the fall of Saigon, my mother and I were airlifted out in an American Army cargo plane. His company had asked him to stay behind to oversee its operation. When he finally left, he went by boat. It was a pitiful journey during which he had little to eat, and someone tried to steal his shoes.
The theme of flight, albeit with a different meaning, accompanied my father's life here. As refugees, we first lived in North Carolina,where the license plates proclaim "First in Flight" in commemoration of the Wright brothers' feat at Kitty Hawk. Four years later in Kettering, Ohio — dubbed the "Birthplace of Aviation," also in honor of the Wright brothers — my father and mother had a baby girl. By 1982, our family had moved on to Houston, home to NASA.
This dream of air travel, which hovered in the background of all the places where my father tried to make a home for us, brought with it visions of heavy bodies soaring, of fair winds and infinite possibilities. All the things my father had lost and tried to regain.
Monique Truong is the author of "The Book of Salt," a novel.
http://www.nytimes.
My Father's Vietnam Syndrome
By MONIQUE TRUONG
Published: June 18, 2006
MY father never read my first novel, which was dedicated to him. He died in 2002, a year before it was published. The dedication was simple: "For my father, a traveler who has finally come home." He would have liked being called a traveler, because tucked inside this word is the story of his life. My father was not an old man by first-world standards.But at the Vietnamese-American-owned funeral home his third wife had chosen for him, the prevailing sentiment was that the deceased, age 65, was entitled to red roses on his coffin. If he had died a year earlier, the color red would not have been recommended. Red signifies the luck of having lived a long life. His funeral was held in Houston, where the yellow and red flag of the former South Vietnam flies high above suburban strip malls, a place where the sensibility of the third world can trump the first.
My father was a mixture of both. He was born in Vietnam, sent at an early age to France and England for schooling, and returned home with a Swiss wife and a baby daughter. Upon his arrival to a country that, in his absence, had split itself in half, he had to relearn its language. He could speak Vietnamese, but he could not write it. Not a business letter. Not a love letter.
My father was instead fluent in French and English, the languages that raised him. Along with his flat nose and his hot temper, I as an adult would share with him the frustration of having to reach for Vietnamese words, like an itch at the middle of our backs.
I know little about his life during the first years of his return. I know that his marriage dissolved, that his Swiss wife and babyreturned to Europe. I know that he was movie-idol dashing. I know that my mother, breathtaking at the age of 20, fell in love with him, and that he converted from Buddhism to Catholicism to marry her. His wealthy parents were relieved that this time he had chosen a Vietnamese woman, but they frowned at her family of intellectuals and dreamers. Five years later, in 1968, my mother gave birth to me, my father's second daughter and the only one of his three girls to be born in South Vietnam. Between contractions, my mother heard the sounds of bombs cratering Saigon.
A photograph shows my father in army fatigues holding me. I am crying, infant arms and legs pushing away from him. My mother tells me that this was the first time I had seen him, that I was afraid of him, of his crew cut, of his uniform.
I think the fear she remembers was hers. She was the one who knew enough to be discomforted by the sight of the movie idol dressed to die. From that awkward introduction on, whenever my father left on an overnight trip or longer, I would get a cold. Always a sniffle, a slight fever, an ache. I take that as proof that I had not feared him but loved him at first sight.
My father was not a soldier for long. He soon returned to civilian life and to his position with a Dutch-owned oil company. He was multinational, multilingual and multitalented. He was a businessman for the future of South Vietnam. Unfortunately, that country did not have a future.
In 1975, a few weeks before the fall of Saigon, my mother and I were airlifted out in an American Army cargo plane. His company had asked him to stay behind to oversee its operation. When he finally left, he went by boat. It was a pitiful journey during which he had little to eat, and someone tried to steal his shoes.
The theme of flight, albeit with a different meaning, accompanied my father's life here. As refugees, we first lived in North Carolina,where the license plates proclaim "First in Flight" in commemoration of the Wright brothers' feat at Kitty Hawk. Four years later in Kettering, Ohio — dubbed the "Birthplace of Aviation," also in honor of the Wright brothers — my father and mother had a baby girl. By 1982, our family had moved on to Houston, home to NASA.
This dream of air travel, which hovered in the background of all the places where my father tried to make a home for us, brought with it visions of heavy bodies soaring, of fair winds and infinite possibilities. All the things my father had lost and tried to regain.
Monique Truong is the author of "The Book of Salt," a novel.
"Story of Pao" a film by Ngo Quang Hai
New York (October 20th, 2006) Dear Friends, IVCE is pleased to announce the newest Vietnamese film (with English subtitles), "Story of Pao", to the United States. A debut feature film by Ngo Quang Hai--scriptwriter, producer, and director extraordinaire--Story of Pao aims to share with viewers around the world the often understated presence of the ethnic minority people living in the mountainous regions of Vietnam. Synopsis: The story centers on a young girl, Pao, living in a mountainous area on a journey to discover her family's past and her own future. Recalling memories of marriage and the emotional life of her parents, the story deftly develops the concept of love from different points of view, both traditional and modern. The interaction between the people in the movie is told in a very moving and vivid manner. Secret desires, pent up feelings, and internal emotions come to light in different situations that make the already romantic story even more attractive. The movie's storyline is further accentuated by its setting: the magnificent mountain ranges of Northwest Vietnam that are engulfed year-round by an immense veil of fog. This movie is not only an honest and moving picture of a family's emotional life but it also provides an intimate look at what Vietnam is all about. The main protagonist in the movie is played by none other than acclaimed Vietnamese actress Do Thi Hai Yen, known for her roles in "The Quiet American" (U.S.), "The Vertical Ray of the Sun" (France), "Song of the Stork" (Singapore), among other films. The director Ngo Quang Hai has also collaborated in some of these big-screen hits, such as "The Quiet American", "The Vertical Ray of the Sun", "The Scent of Green Papaya" and "Cyclo." He has acted also in various foreign films in Vietnam. 7pm-9pm. Monday Nov 6th, 2006. Pacific Film Archive 2575 Bancroft Way (between College & Telegraph) University of California - Berkeley 12:00 – 2:30 pm. Tuesday November 7th, 2006. Auditorium T-415 (Tech Building). Moorpark at Bascom San Jose City College 11:00 am. Wednesday November 8th, 2006. Rosenberg Library – Room 305 Ocean Campus, 50 Phelan Ave San Francisco City College 12:00 – 2:30 pm. Thursday, Nov. 9, 2006. ADM 119. 21250 Stevens Creek Blvd. Cupertino De Anza College
Asian American-owned Businesses
1.4 Million Asian American-owned Businesses in Nation:
U.S. Census Bureau Report
Greenlining Institute has analyzed the U.S. Census Bureau Report of May 16, 2006 regarding the number of Asian American-owned businesses in the United States and California. The data, just released, is, unfortunately, more than four years old.
Greenlining has updated the data through May 1, 2006 using the same growth pattern that the Census Bureau reported for the five-year period 1997 to 2002.
United States: 1.4 million
Assuming Asian American-owned businesses continue to grow at a 24% rate every five years, there are 1.4 million Asian American-owned businesses in the United States (Please note: Asian American-owned businesses grow at twice the national average for all businesses).
California: 450,000
Using the Greenlining projection methodology based on the outdated 2002 Census Report, there are now more than 450,000 Asian American-owned firms in California alone.
By Major County
The number of Asian American-owned firms in Los Angeles County exceeds 170,000. (LA County has the largest number of Asian American-owned businesses of any county in the nation).
Orange County finished third in the nation and now has approximately 56,000 Asian American-owned businesses (Waiching can get data for any county and city if you request).
By Major City
Using the same Greenlining projections by city, the city of Los Angeles has the second largest number of Asian American-owned businesses in the nation with approximately 58,000. San Francisco is fourth in the nation with almost 24,000. And San Jose is fifth with almost 20,000 Asian American-owned businesses.
Breakdown by Ethnicity
Based on Census data and using the Greenlining projections, there are now over 350,000 Chinese American-owned businesses in the United States.
The number of Korean American-owned businesses is approximately 190,000.
The number of Vietnamese American-owned businesses is 177,000.
The number of Filipino American-owned businesses is 154,000.
Other Ethnicities
The U.S. Census Bureau has still not released its 2002 data for African American and released its data last March for Hispanic-owned businesses. There are now more than 520,000 Hispanic-owned businesses in California alone and over 150,000 African American-owned businesses, using Greenlining projections (which are based on prior five-year projections).
Total for All Minorities in California: 1.1 Million
For all minorities in California, there are now over 1,120,000 (or over 1.1 million) businesses in California today.
By Bob Gnaizda and Waiching Wong
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