Chi Phan remembers Gary, an american sailor

When we came to the United States. When the plane took us to... When we were living in... Oh. May be we need to start with Guam first.

When we were at Orote Point, at that first refugee camp, your father went to the communication center and reconnected with a friend, Mr. Lam Quan. At that time, Mr. Lam Quan was the head Vietnamese representative for Camp Asan helping to organize the refugees to minimize the chaos. He told your father, “Come over here with me”. So he sent a GMC truck, to take our family to Camp Asan.

Mr. Lam Quan knew how to speak English, so he could liaison with his American counterparts. Mrs. Quan worked at the formula distribution center... for the babies. I saw that your brother, Vinh, needed formula, so I went there to work.

There I came to understand the American work ethics. I worked side by side with the American sailors. They were clean and beautiful, toiling from morning till evening; sincere and without rest. They were very conscientious.

They weren’t like us. We might show up to the office, then maybe leave to get a a cup of coffee. No. Here. Eight hours is eight hours. When it was time for a break, they would eat and drink a bit, then get up to wash pots and pans. I watched them prepare and mix the formula. I was moved by those American sailors.

There was a sailor. His name was Gary. We befriended him. When we settled in Utah, he found us and came to visit us. He would come often. He was a good person and cared about you children. You played with him and asked, “Is Santa Claus real?”

Now that I sit and think about him, he was a sailor just twenty one years old, kind and idealistic. And he loved us refugees. But at that time I was so busy and fragile. So I didn’t enjoy his frequent visits. Now I regret it very much. If I could see him again, I would tell him, “I’m sorry.” Because he was the first American that I could call “friend” and I treated him coolly even though he was very warm to us. I have been remiss… because I didn’t have the time, I couldn’t communicate, and I couldn’t understand him. Perhaps he didn’t have a family, didn’t have a wife. He was just twenty one. After that, he was angry, stopped coming and we lost him.

He is probably... If he was twenty one… after forty five years, he must be sixty six.

Chi Phan (2021)