I went to the barber to get a haircut today.  The barber I've seen every month or so for the past couple of years is a small Vietnamese man named Quy.

Quy is a careful, deliberate man who cuts hair the old-fashioned way--scissors and razor.  His movements are never hurried, and you get the sense that each cut that he makes is considered and certain.

I knew that he'd been an ARVN soldier during the Vietnam War, but he's never spoken of this to me.  For some reason, he did so today.

He told me about his time in country, and the fall of Saigon.  He was there.  ("Many, many died.") 

At the end, he was captured and sent to a re-education camp in the North.  Quy spent 13 years in prison after the fall of Vietnam, and he told me a little about that.  But of course, I can only imagine.  I can never know.  ("I am a small man, and not a brave man.  But many men who were bigger and braver than me died.  I do not know why." )

All the while he was telling me his story, his movements with the scissors and razor never faltered.  I said very little--it was his story to tell, and mine to listen.

Quy was eventually released, and made his way to the US.  When he arrived, his family hadn't seen or heard from him in a decade and a half.  His youngest son had never seen him before.

But Quy considers himself a fortunate man--his family is around him now, and they are gold to him, he says.  Although Quy earned a master's degree in geology and was offered a lucrative job in the petrochemical industry, he decided instead to get a barber's license so he could return to his family every night.  ("I never want to be apart from my family again." )

So much of life is time, circumstance, and fortune.  When I think about Quy, and the things he experienced, I wonder whether I would have had the strength to endure what he endured, only to make my way home again.  To have, at the end of the day, a steady hand that never falters.

In this season of peace and reconciliation, I wish all of you nothing more (and nothing less) than the presence of family and friends, hope, and a steady, unfaltering hand.

All the best,

George

Thank you George, for painting such a wonder word picture.

What a story. I enjoyed that. And thank you for the well wishes.

Quote:


Buried circumstances forgotten by many wonderously resurfaced in gaping time and very fortunate to hear.   Thank you, George.