The Streaming Life

By ThanhMai Vu

The Streaming Life is a noteworthy memoir of the restless shape-shifting of a Vietnamese immigrant who survived the Vietnam War and then later came to America under the Orderly Departure Program (ODP) as a spouse of an American citizen who was also a Vietnamese refugee seeking freedom. Mrs. Vu first settled in New York and subsequently moved to Virginia, facing many struggles to reach a successful life in America. Throughout her twenty-two years living in the US, she became a US Citizen, graduated from college, and got a job. Then, in return, she paid back everything that America supported her with when she came here for the first time with empty hands and broken English.

Mrs. Vu has lived a life to the fullest. Her life has had its ups and downs, like all of yours, but she leaned from it, overcame it, and found her way to a successful life.

The Streaming Life is a true story - a memoir penetrated by love, faith, and passionate music. It was an amazing journey. Initially, I just wrote it as an agenda. But, I began thinking about publishing it ever since my daughter, who read my initial draft, said: "Wow. Mom, I really like it [The Streaming Life], even if it does not get published. I want you to publish it so that I can keep it for myself and my family to read about you, dad and your lives."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984509451

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by ThanhMai Vu.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2018902065

ISBN:               Hardcover             978-1-9845-0943-7

                         Softcover                978-1-9845-0944-4

                         eBook                     978-1-9845-0945-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/08/2018

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

Chapter%201-Washington%20DC.jpg

Me with my husband in Washington DC

The sunrise was starting a new day when I sat by Virginia’s James River with a serene landscape, as beautiful as a watercolor painting, in front of me. This reflected my life. Looking far away up into the sky, I suddenly recalled that in my life, I traveled without fixed plans nor with any ideas of where I would end up. This beautiful place was a casual discovery. Yet as I watched the water flowing calmly along a channel cut into rock or ground and then running into the river, it brought me back years in the past.

It had been twenty-two years since I came to America in winter season as a first-generation immigrant in New York. Meeting me at the arrival gate of JFK International Airport where my husband and his friend were patiently waiting for my arriving, my husband tenderly hugged me and sweetly whispered, Welcome to America, my love! On the way walking to my husband’s car in a crowded parking lot, his friend took a fistful of snow and handed it to me with a big smile.

This is New York, Chị Mai, he said. I took and held it in my hand, quickly gave a glance around the snowball, and then curiously looked at it.

It’s cold! I suddenly shouted out and dropped the snowball off. My husband and his friends couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

That March of the year 1996, my first month in America was wonderful. I was very excited and more than happy when coming to America. It’s a dream of many people who live in a communist-dominated country where the government controls everything mentally and physically. We have no freedom nor the rights to do, to speak, and to think in our own way. The word freedom may just sound simple to you, but it wraps up a big dream to us. Most people defied all dangers, even losing their lives to escape from Vietnam to refuge in America or in any noncommunist country, just seeking for the freedom for themselves, for their children, and for the next generation.

I felt snowflakes falling on my face for the first time on the way visiting Washington DC a few weeks later. Sitting in the front passenger seat, close next to my husband who was driving on the highway, we smiled at each other.

Snowflakes, honey. He said, pointing at the windshield. Snow begins heavy.

Following his pointing finger’s direction, my eyes turned and focused on the windshield, seeing likely a hundred snowflake falling.

They looked like threaded different-sized cotton balls flying in the air,

I flabbergasted. How beautiful they are falling on the glass, quickly wipe alongside of the freeway and drop onto the road, My husband described.

The view in front of the car began to blur, so the headlights were turned on.

How are we going to manage in this weather? I whispered underneath my breath, scared to death, looking at the road in the whole smoke. I was feeling better when I saw my husband was very calm, driving the car a little slowly, but I wished I was out of there anyway. We considered staying in Ivar’s Seafood Bar for lunch and left Washington to continue traveling on the highway toward North Carolina to visit my aunt.

Everything here in the United States was new and looked totally strange to me, such as language, culture, and custom. You couldn’t imagine that driving in Vietnam would be hectic. Unlike in the United States where people observe and follow the traffic rules, such as safely staying in the lane when driving, people in Vietnam just weave in and out their lane through the traffic, without thinking about following the traffic rules for safety. I was not supposed to drink tap water in Vietnam, while it is considered safe in the United States to drink tap water. In the United States, there are four different seasons: spring, summer, fall, and winter. In Vietnam, there are only two seasons: wet and dry. A man and a woman may hold hands or touch in public, but kissing is unacceptable. It should be done in private quarters, and kissing is not allowed in front of the children. The quality of hygiene and food safety is based on one’s point of view because most places to eat are at every corner or street in Vietnam. Americans do not spend much time in preparing food. By contrast, Vietnamese spend a lot of time in preparing food. Grocery is bought once a week in America but is bought every day in Vietnam. It looks tramontane to our culture, isn’t it?

A couple of weeks after coming to New York, in late March, the weather dropped to thirty degrees. My first experience of the coldness in my life was in the year 1996, my first winter in America. Except for the eyes, my entire body was wrapped around by so many layers of the warm clothes: shirt, sweater, coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. Years passed by, and I have adapted; now the weather no longer matters to me. I am not scared anymore, and there are no more layers of warm clothes. Just wearing a summer T-shirt with a North Face jacket is good enough for me to deal with such cold weather.

Chapter 2

Chapter%202-Baptism.jpg

My baptism day with family

I woke up early one morning. Lazily, I still lay down on my bed while thinking about my upcoming birthday in one week. It’s on August 20, the date I was born.

Mom told me, You were born at the sunset by the shore, don’t you know?

Displayed over the nightstand next to my bed was a photograph of my family in a frame, which was taken on the day of my baptism. Leftmost of the front row, Dad looked very handsome dressed up in a white suit. He was carrying my brother Trúc in his arms while, to the left of my dad, Grandma in a traditional Áo Dài was carefully holding me tight over her chest since I was tiny at birth. My elder sister Tâm stood between Dad and Grandma. She was in a beautiful white dress that Dad had bought in the United States during his traveling over there not long before. Stood behind my sister was Rev. Mathew Kỳ, and on the far right was my aunt, also dressed up in a traditional Áo Dài.

One week after birth, only Dad drove me to church for my baptism, along with Grandma, Aunt, and my elder sister and brother. There, Rev. Matthew Kỳ was ready to give me a baptism upon my arrival. At the end of the rite, all family members were taken a photograph with Rev. Matthew Kỳ for family memories.

The baby sleeps like an infant lamb all the way during the rite of baptism. Except for my mom who needed to rest at home for full recovery after giving my birth, all other family members were with me at the church that day.

Everyone was very thankful to God and happy on your baptism day. I was told. I was very fortunate to be born in such a lovely