
(Even now, he tends to drop endings such as "hou" for "house," and "paspa" for "passport." You have to pay attention, but the meaning comes through.)
Eventually reaching America, he waited four years for his family to bribe their way onto a boat out of Vietnam. They did, reaching a refugee camp in Malaya. Eventually, my guy got them over here. Thirty-four years have passed since the day he boarded a helicopter under rocket fire. Now he in lives quietly in the San Gabriel Valley, cuts hair in La Canada and pays for two daughters in college.
He knows I've been in Vietnam and Cambodia, but never recalls why. Or my name. His first question is, "You travel somewhere?" I'm certain he thinks I'm always in motion, like a deep ocean shark.
Today I told him I was glad he made it out of Vietnam.
He was too.