Wednesday, December 31, 2008

All is Well

As 2008 comes to an end, I reflect on all that has happened this year. Some bad but mostly good. It has been a year of big change and more to come, I'm sure. I am thankful for all of the good that has transpired and grateful for the many blessings I have in my life.
The biggest shift I see is the majority of us have elected a new President with a new vision for the future of our country. I am thankful. We are united in hope for change and are at a turning point. It's a spiritual awakening. We have lost many lives and spent untold dollars on a war we don't need to be in. Mr. Bush has that one on his shoulders and may go down in history (if written in truth) as the worst President ever. Let's be respectful of life and the planet. Feed the hungry not fill your pockets with blood and oil money. Bring home our boys.
The economy has taken a big dip. The unethical business practices of many responsible has helped it tank. There are always consequences and they will get theirs. It is a rebuilding process. My hope is, the offender CEOs will all be replaced, or we will be back where we were. More and more of us are waking up to the truth about our (previous) politicians and their bed buddies. Hopefully, the days of the Good 'ol Boys are behind us. Clean House!
I HOLD MY SPACE in a Vision of Peace, Health and Prosperity for all of us. Happy New Year!

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Brave Little Girl

After seeing the film Three Seasons, I am reminded of a story of a Brave Little Girl. I have a friend who is a Pharmacist in a hospital where I worked and she is from Vietnam. At the end of the war American troops were quickly pulling out of Vietnam. I remember watching the absolute chaos on television as Americans evacuated. U.S. military planes were full of Vietnamese people who were clamoring to get out, knowing if they were left behind they would be murdered. They had supported the US occupation.
My friend told me her family was one of those families. They were waiting in a crowd to board a C130, the huge dinosaur of a plane like my father flew, a cargo plane. It had a giant trap-like door and loaded from the rear. I asked her if they added seats to the plane. "No", they sat on the floor, no seats or seat belts. She said there were eight of them in her family. She was standing at the end of her family's line when a soldier stopped her. The plane was full and she could not board. Her family was on the plane and she was the last one. Her mother was hysterical. She begged them to let her off the plane to change places with her daughter. My friend watched as the door slowly closed. She was left behind.
She was only ten years old when she watched her family take off for a new faraway land without her. The following day, she boarded a similar plane she hoped would take her to her family. She was taken to a large refugee camp in northern California outside of San Francisco. She looked frantically but her family was not there. She didn't know anyone. She told me they lived in tents, it rained a lot and she remembers all of the mud. She spoke no English. Some families took her in and shared their food. She went from family to family and tent to tent, as some moved on and left the camp. She was alone again.
As time passed, it was noted she was separated from her family and a search was started by the government. They were unable to find her family. She didn't understand this at the time, but later understood she was being put up for adoption. My friend was taken from the camp to visit the woman who planned to adopt her. She told me the woman was beautiful and kind. She wore fine clothing, a hat and had a little dog. My friend had visited her lavishly decorated home in her white limosuine and was shown the room that would be hers. The woman had arranged private schooling and had purchased new clothes for her to wear. The day her adoption was to be final my friend was told her family may have been located in Georgia. It had been nearly a year since she had seen them. She was given a choice to go with the lady and be adopted or take the chance to go to Georgia and possibly reunite with her family. She took the chance, found her family and said it was the most wonderful feeling to see them and to be back with them again.
My friend decided to leave her job at the hospital where we had worked together. I told her how much I would miss her and asked her where she was going. She said she was going to work at the VA Hospital. I asked her "Why?" The pay was substantially less than what she was making, it would be a lot farther commute and the work would be tough. She said she wanted to give back to American soldiers who had helped her and had helped her family. She said they needed help and she knew most of them were Vietnam Vets.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Three Seasons


Just finished watching a film on the Sundance channel titled Three Seasons. It is a story of several relationships set in postwar Vietnam. I lived in Japan during part of the Vietnam war and saw many young American soldiers on their way to Vietnam and returning to the States after being injured. Many lost limbs and many more didn't make it home.
My father was sent to Vietnam for six months while we stayed behind in Japan. I worried about him. I look back on that time and realize how brave my mother was, too. She was left in a country with a very different culture to care for four children under 13. We lived in a small house in the rice paddys, close to the American Base Yokota, just outside of Tokyo. My father was sent to Saigon to work with Commander Kei in order to assist with pulling our troops out of Vietnam. (before the President escalated the war) When he returned, we learned the person he was replacing had been killed when a Viet Kong threw a a grenade inside a loaf of bread into his staff car. He told us they had given him a Jeep with chicken wire sides to protect him. Somehow it wasn't very reassuring but he was home.
After spending three years in Japan. We moved to California. It was great to be home. While I was having a fun time in high school, my father was still flying in and out of Vietnam. He flew C130s and later 141s. I didn't learn until much later that he flew tanks, weapons and vehicles in and hundreds of boys in body bags back. He said it was a very long flight home in that huge plane with just himself, his copilot and navigator and all of those of dead young boys in body bags. How chilling and sad, it makes me want to cry when I think of it. I hate war.
I HOLD MY SPACE in the place of PEACE.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

The World is Yours

To quote a famous rap singer, Nas, The World is Yours. He knows how to HOLD his SPACE. He's right, the World is Ours. We can each do with it what we want. Be responsible or not. Vibe up or Vibe down. We have our own particular place in it.
It's sad to say, but the totality of what is going on the world is the product of our individual cumulative thought. The sum is the total of it parts, and that's us. War, Starvation, Genocide, Abusing our Earth, Corruption and Greed. Not pretty. I'm sounding preachy. I'm hopeful for change. We have elected great new President. We are waking up. Who's World is it?