I exploded on one of my cousins on Facebook. She’s one of those idiot Trump supporters who kept posting dumb shits on her timeline. I usually ignored her posts, but yesterday I simply could not. Since she could not think on her own, she “borrowed” this “powerful message” from someone else:

I never thought I’d see a day when so many people were so afraid of dying that they willingly quit living.

I just couldn’t stand this stupidity and ignorance. My mom/her aunt died of COVID-19. Her own brother feared for his life when he got really sick from COVID-19 and she mocked people for being afraid of dying. I responded:

Sure, go out, live your life, and get sick. That is some dumb, ignorant shit.

My original comment was “get COVID-19” instead of “get sick,” but Facebook blocked it. It detected I was posting misinformation and encouraging people to get COVID.

A white man goes by the name Willie Hinz responded to my comment:

You are the living proof of the statement above. And by looking at your face. You are the one that have shitty ass looking face.

WTF? Is this a beauty pageant? I found a dude commenting on another dude appearance to be hilarious and frankly stupid so I played along. I replied to him:

Thank you for taking your time to click on my face, look at my face, and then attack my appearance. From a fellow to a fellow, I am flattered that you go after my look. I wonder why my cousin has become so ignorant. Just look at the people she’s palling around with.

He replied:

Once again you confirm what You Are! She is my cousin too!

What? My cousin has a white cousin? This is something new to me. I responded with sarcasm:

It’s all good, my man. Sorry, I didn’t know you were her cousin as well. I guess she abandoned her blood cousin for a white cousin. You sure are a better-looking cousin than I am.

My cousin chimed in to defend her fake-ass cousin, which I didn’t really care for. She accused me of trying to play colors. She even quoted Martin Luther King, Jr.:

I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.

How ironic is that most of her posts were about hating on Black Lives Matter and she uses Martin Luther King, Jr.’s word to defend her white friend. She bragged that her friend is an immigrant who made a success for himself. I am glad that her friend is successful. Everyone can be successful in America if they are willing to work hard. She definitely needs to go back to study the history of the United States. This is a nation of immigrants. Even white people immigrated here.

I switched back to her ignorant post to point out that she “doesn’t give a fuck about any else but her-goddamn-self,” knowing her aunt died from COVID and her brother feared for his life from COVID. She asked me to “completely remove yourself from this post” because I was using “offensive language.” I complied. I cannot fix stupid. I wish her well. Go on, live her life, enjoy herself, and don’t get COVID. I unfriended her.

Last year when the general election was tearing apart families, I tried my hardest to ignore Trump supporters and COVID deniers, especially from family members, friends, and the Vietnamese community. I didn’t want to get into fights with family members and friends over these issues. After my mom died of COVID, however, I don’t give a fuck anymore even if they are family members. I don’t need those kinds of relationships in my life.

Dr. Joy Garcia Tiên, my life-long mentor, asked me to take her back to my middle-school journey. She also wanted to know what divided us and what held us together. To answer her questions, I wanted to go all the way back to my first experience living in America.

I started sixth grade at Lafayette Elementary School with limited English. I spent half a day in my regular classroom not understanding what my teacher and my classmates said. I felt out of place. Fortunately, the ESL (English as Second Language) classroom was my comfort zone. All of the ESL students shared a similar circumstance and our goal was to improve our English. Our ESL teachers, Mrs. Susan Hurlburt and Mrs. Sue Kresge, had done an excellent job of making us feel comfortable and welcoming. They not only taught us English, but also helped us to adjust to our new lives in America. They were more than our teachers. They were our guardians.

I went on to Reynolds Middle School in seventh grade and faced different challenges. Reynolds had a diverse student body including Black, Hispanic, White, and Asian. English remained an issue for me and I still attended ESL classes, but only forty-five minutes a day instead of half of a day. Asians, Vietnamese immigrants in particular, were the minority. It was the first time in America that I experienced bullying, and race played a part of it. I was called “Ching Chong,” “Slanted Eyes,” or “Chink” on a daily basis even though I am not even Chinese. I did not know much English, but I recognized the racial slurs. I got into fights to defend myself. My grades dropped tremendously after a suspension for getting punched in class. I was miserable and didn’t feel like getting up in the morning to go to school. I realized that the students were divided into their own ethnicities and the majorities had more power over the minorities. I kept my head low and focused on my academics.

In eighth grade, I joined the Upward Bound program. I still can’t recall how I signed up or how I heard about it, but the pre-college program changed my educational life. My experience at the Upward Bound summer program was completely different from my regular school year. The program was also made up of a diverse group of students from different backgrounds, cultures, schools, and cities, but I did not experience any bullying or racism. In the summers, I was able to hang out with our little Vietnamese group as well as expanded into the larger groups. I did not know how Ms. Doris Cross, Dr. Joy Garcia Tiên, and the entire Upward Bound staff made it possible, but I was grateful for the individual-yet-inclusive experience. Black kids blasted hip-hop in their rooms; Hispanic kids blasted their salsa in their rooms; White kids blasted their heavy metal in their rooms; we blasted Vietnamese ballads in our rooms. No one complained until curfew time. Before wrapping up each summer program, we put on cultural shows and performances to celebrate our differences.

In retrospect, what united students in the Upward Bound program were our goals and our circumstances. Although our skins, cultures, and ethnicities were different, we were from low-income, underprivileged families. While other kids enjoyed their long summer vacations, we chose to attend summer classes and to challenge ourselves with pre-college courses taught by college professors. We were committed to make a better future for ourselves. We spent the summer living, studying, eating, and hanging out together; therefore, we embraced and respected our differences. Once we found our common ground and goal, we lifted each other up instead of tearing each other apart. As a result, I had found a special bond with my Upward Bound colleagues from my middle and throughout high school years.

I would love to hear from other Upward Bound alums on their perspectives and experiences. I also would love to hear from other Vietnamese Americans, particularly how they dealt with racism or bullying in middle school. Even today, I still wonder about that period of my life. Were kids at that age understand racism? Was I targeted because of my lack of English? Was I picked on because I did not fit in? Now as a father, I do not wish to see my kids go through what I had been through, but these experiences had shaped me and made me more resilience. I did not succumb to negativity. I found support elsewhere and appreciated those who were there for me, believed in me, and gave me the opportunities.

Mẹ vợ để quyển sách “Tình người” của thuyền sư Thích Nhất Hạnh trên bàn làm việc cho tôi đọc. Lúc trước tôi có đọc một số sách của thầy Nhất Hạnh bằng tiếng Anh. Thầy viết rất giản dị và dễ hiểu. Tập truyện tiếng Việt này viết về những câu chuyện của thầy lúc còn làm chú điệu cũng rất nhẹ nhàng và đơn sơ. Chẳng hạn như “Những hạt cơm của Phật” kể về chú thằn lằn đến ăn cơm mỗi khi thầy cúng Phật. Truyện chủ đề “Tình người,” nói về cơ duyên của thầy và một người lính Pháp, vẫn còn ấn tượng trong tôi. Tập truyện rất ngắn (chỉ 121 trang), thầy Nhất Hạnh giúp chúng ta nhận thức được những bài học trong Phật pháp được áp dụng trong đời sống. Nếu bạn muốn đọc, hãy vào trang nhà Làng Mai đọc trên mạng.

Lúc mới qua Mỹ, tôi thường phụ chị Phương ở tiệm tạp hóa. Đại khái là bỏ đồ vào bao mỗi khi chị thanh toán tiền cho khách hàng. Lý do đơn giản tôi giúp chị là vì muốn gặp người Việt. Thỉnh thoảng chú Sen cũng ghé chơi vì chú cũng ở gần tiệm. Lúc đó chú cũng chỉ ở một mình chưa bảo lãnh vợ con sang nên chú ra tiệm chơi cho đỡ buồn. Chú cũng tình nguyện giúp chị Phương những công việc lặt vặt trong tiệm.

Chú có làn da ngăm ngăm giống tôi. Chú hiền lành, giản dị, và luôn nở một nụ cười rất tươi. Có lần chú lái xe đưa tôi và chị Phương đi Phila bốc hàng về bán. Chị mua nào là trái cây, rau cải, đậu phụ, và những món ăn vặt. Chị không mua một chỗ mà đi vòng quanh phố Tàu ở Phila. Đến chiều mệt và đói meo, chị đãi hai người công nhân ăn mì tô ở nhà hàng Tàu. Tô mì nóng hổi và thật là ngon miệng. Ăn xong thì chú lái chúng tôi về lại Lancaster. Những ký ức tuy đơn giản nhưng khó quên của những chuỗi ngày mới qua Mỹ.

Sau này chú bảo lãnh vợ con sang Mỹ nên bận bịu không còn đến tiệm nữa. Tôi thỉnh thoảng cũng đi chơi với hai thằng con trai của chú. Mấy mươi năm đã không gặp lại chú. Hôm qua thấy con của chú để tang cho chú tôi mới biết chú đã ra đi. Cuộc đời thật quá ngắn ngủi. Nụ cười của chú vẫn in đậm trong trí nhớ của tôi. Thôi thì tạm vĩnh biệt chú nhé. “Người ra đi bến sông nằm lạnh / Này nhân gian có nghe đời nghiêng” (Trịnh Công Sơn). Cầu mong cho linh hồn chú được yên nghỉ trong bình an.

Thưa mẹ, sáng nay tuyết đã phủ đầy đường. Con gọi Sư Cô Hạnh Hiếu hỏi hôm nay chùa có cúng thất không. Cô cho biết thầy vẫn cúng nhưng con đừng đến vì tuyết vẫn đang rơi. Thế thì con nhờ thầy và cô tụng kinh, cầu nguyện, và cúng thất thứ năm cho mẹ.

Mỗi tuần con trông đến ngày chủ nhật để đến chùa. Thứ nhất là cầu siêu cho mẹ. Thứ nhì là được gần gũi những người cùng chung hoàn cảnh vừa mới mất người thân yêu. Thứ ba là được những tiếng đồng hồ nhẹ nhàng trong kinh Phật. Cuối cùng là mua những món chay để ăn cả tuần.

Mẹ rời xa chúng con đã năm tuần rồi. Con muốn trở lại cuộc sống bình thường nhưng vẫn cảm thấy thiếu sót hình bóng của mẹ. Lúc trước mỗi lần lái xe con thường gọi điện thoại thăm mẹ để cho qua thời gian. Giờ đây chỉ còn nghe lại những tin nhắn mẹ đã để lại cho con. Con vẫn nghe đi nghe lại cuộc chuyện trò của hai mẹ con mà con đã mạo muội quay lại. Nghe được tiếng nói của mẹ làm lòng con ấm lại rất nhiều.

Những nụ cười lẫn những giọt nước mắt, những lời ân cần lẫn những lời trách móc, những chuỗi ngày vui vẻ lẫn những chuỗi ngày buồn bã, những ký ức về mẹ vẫn in đậm trong đầu óc và tim con. Bốn mươi mấy tuổi đầu con mới cảm nhận được nỗi đau của đứa con mồ côi. Tuy đã trưởng thành và có thể tự lo cho bản thân và con cái, sự mất mát của cha mẹ vẫn làm cho con mất đi sự thăng bằng. Không phải trong cuộc sống nhưng trong tâm hồn. Không hối hận nhưng vẫn hối tiếc. Không khóc lóc nhưng vẫn rơi nước mắt. Không than vãn nhưng vẫn bày tỏ.

Con xót xa dùm những đứa trẻ mồ côi cha mẹ và vô cùng hạnh phúc cho những ai vẫn còn có cha mẹ. Mỗi lần nghe tin những người thân và bạn bè vượt qua được cơn bệnh dịch, con vô cùng vui mừng. Giờ đây cũng đã có thuốc ngừa dịch và mẹ vợ cũng đã chích. Vẫn chưa đến lượt con nhưng con sẽ đợi để những người cần hơn con, nhất là người lớn tuổi, được thuốc. Con vẫn phòng ngừa bằng cách đeo khẩu trang và xa cách mọi người khi ra khỏi nhà. Hy vọng đại nạn sẽ nhanh chóng trôi qua để không còn những sự mất mát oan uổng nữa.

When Agatha caught her husband screwing GDOG (Grande Dame of Grapefruits) in their shed, she chopped it into pieces with a hatchet. After the incident, Agatha’s life turned upside down. She started therapy, spied on her cheating husband and his young lover with grapefruit-shaped hips, and tried to bonk the mailman and the UPS guy. Agatha was also a member of the Moms Facebook group.

Kristin Bair’s third novel, Agatha Arch Is Afraid of Everything, is heartbreaking yet hilarious. Bair incorporates the language of social media into her story. It took me half of the book to get into the flow of emojis, acronyms, and tweets. Once I got past the interruptions, however, I found Bair’s style, the combination of long and short forms, to be playful. Like music to my ear, I can still hear the rhythm of the woodpecker’s tap tap tippity-tap after I finished the novel. And damn, she can write about sex. A delicious, delightful read.

Full disclosure: I designed Kristin Bair’s website to promote her latest novel.

My ice skating lesson went horribly wrong on Tuesday. I skated for five minutes and my feet felt extremely uncomfortable. It was so unbearable that I had to get rental skates. I struggled miserably with backward crossovers. I definitely need more practice.

On Monday, the day before my lesson, I went back to Pure Hockey to see if they could help me with the uncomfortness I had been experiencing. The salesman sold me a pair of insoles. They were comfortable when I tried them on, but not so much when I went on the ice. He recommended that I lace up as tight as possible, which caused the pain. I’ll try to loosen up the lace a bit. If that won’t help, I’ll get myself a new pair of figure skates instead.

I am loving rollerblading. I feel no pain at all. I have gotten used to my shoes. I could do all the straight ramps at the skatepark. I tried out the curved ramp yesterday and fell three times before I found my groove. I am starting to feel the pain in my right arm because of the falls. Age has something to do with it.

I was skating down the high ramps next to a little Asian girl who was skateboarding. She was petite and talkative so I asked her how old she was. She told me she was 10. I complimented her on her skateboard skills. A few minutes later, she asked me for my age. I told her to take a guess and she said 15. The mask hid my face really well. I told her I am 43. She said, “Oh, you skate really well for your age.”

I then realized that I was the antediluvian in the skatepark. Most skateboarders were teenagers. Most scooters were kids around 6 to 10. A few bikers in their teens. My sons and I were only rollerbladers.

My thanks to Chris, a friend and a formal colleague at Vassar College, for supporting this blog. Readers like Chris make this blog free of advertisement and third-party tracking. If you enjoy reading this blog, please consider supporting my efforts. Chip in what you can.

Lắng nghe thầy Thích Chúc Đại giải thích bốn câu trong “Kinh Phước Đức” đầy ý nghĩa:

Tránh không làm điều ác
Không say sưa nghiện ngập
Tinh cần làm việc lành
Là phước đức lớn nhất.

Đọc trọn bài ở trang nhà Làng Mai.

My brief farewell post on Christopher Dang had found its way into people who were close to him or inspired by his works.

Thom Easix wrote to me on January 26, 2020:

Hi Donny,

We don’t know each other, but I just wanted to let you know that I read your blogpost about Chrisopher Dang and that I had the same experience as you. I also started designing in the early 2000’s when I was still a kid and I was really inspired by Halovision. I really looked up to him.

As time passed I also stopped following him, but once in a while I think back on that time. I always remember his art to still be really good.

So today I googled him again and yes, his old artworks still holds up. He had such a feel for typography, shapes and colors. I don’t know how to properly explain it in English, but he was really talented.

Today I also discovered he passed away and I found out through your blogpost.

I don’t know why I’m sending you this email, but I guess I want to thank you for your blog and it was nice to read that you also got inspired by him. It’s not something I can share with other people.

Have a good day,

Best,

Thom

I replied to Thom:

Dear Thom,

I am glad that you have shared your thoughts with me. When I found out that he passed away, I was shocked. I wrote that post wondering if other people had similar experience. You email is a proof. Chris was a talented artist and even his early works had left a deep impact in many of us who didn’t even know him.

Regards,
Donny Truong

Thom responded:

Hi Donny,

Thanks for your reply. I was really moved by it.

Because of your email I searched some more about him and I found out he was a very loved and good person. It kept me busy all day.

I hope he knew how many people he inspired and that his style is visible all over the world. I live in the Netherlands and I’m sure his work laid the foundation for what I like in graphic design.

For the future when I have a flashback to those early 2000’s, I will also remember your email and this story.

This is the beautiful side of the internet 🙂

I wish you all the best in your career and not to be too cheesy, but may his spirit live on in our work 🙂

Best,
Thom

I also shared with Thom an email from someone who was close to Chris. Alyssa Key wrote on December 19, 2020:

Hi Donny,

I found your site entry online when googling our beloved Tinypants. He died of natural causes, stemming from a trial pharmaceutical he was using from losing his vision. Ironic, isn’t it… halo vision. Anyways wanted to help answer that question for you. He was my partner, best friend, and soul mate for many years. Our lives went different paths a few years before his death and I never got a chance to remind him I loved him. We will all see him again soon though. Hope you’re well, sorry if this so random.

Warmest Regards,
Alyssa Key

I responded to Alyssa on December 19, 2020:

Dear Alyssa,

Thank you for writing. He was a gifted artist who reached so many people with his work. I didn’t know him personally, but I am sure he knew he still has a special place in your heart.

Thank you for answering my question. I hope you and your family are doing well and happy holidays.

Regards,
Donny Truong