Your letter dated March 2nd, 1997 helped me out of a predicament I created for myself.

Twenty years after leaving Bloomington, I began writing letters. And after two years pushing my pen, I still haven't finished all I want to say. And I was unfair to you. I made you the most poorly treated letter receiver in the world. You have only read two of my letters, while my Vietnamese audience has read more than ten. They have already voiced their opinions (Please forgive this lazy and dim-witted guy. Despite living here for almost a quarter century, I still need a translator when I write for American readers.)

In your letter dated March 2nd 1997, you said my book seems to have relevance to a more specific audience. You also said that even though you appreciated the intentions of my book, you don't believe it will get a large number of readers who are living in the area where the Pantagraph is circulated-Midwesterners who live in central Illinois.

These statements woke me up.

I have to admit that I am even more pessimistic than you are when review what I have written. My target audience, perhaps several hundred at most, live scattered throughout the world, and even they feel I have written too much about the Vietnam War. I let myself be drowned in the distant past, a world which ended a quarter century ago. The story about the rocket attack from the VC that I was consumed with during my writing can only rekindle pain in the hearts of the many elderly Vietnamese who lost relatives (They act differently from other TV viewers though. They pay more attention to the current bloody saga in Bosnia as if to empathize with the Bosnians in their present suffering.).

The once overpowering ideology of communism which wielded its scythe of death all over the world is now a faltering collapsing entity, tiptoeing near the brink of political extinction.

Writing about the communist and the Vietnam War sometimes makes me feel like an old veteran, wasting away his remaining days in a rocking chair, reciting old stories about World War II.

But if you will stick with me for just awhile longer, I think I have found a decent exit to this book. This is the last chapter in Letters to Bloomington, Illinois, and there are only a few more things to say before I stop.

First, I regret putting so much blame on the Americans for the fate of Vietnam. I had accused the American Press, the U.S. Congress, and the American People for deserting Vietnam during its last days. I blamed all of you for letting your foreign policy be influenced by protesters from the anti-war movement, and I felt this resulted in the U.S. government making decisions to betray my country and hasten the collapse of Saigon.

Had my letters been written at an earlier period, such as during the late 70s, I would have been even more vehement. The things I wrote at that time mirrored the attitudes of most Vietnamese refugees who escaped to this country, and who were still very bitter about losing. They blamed this country for everything, and I was the worst of all. Despite all the generosity that greeted me on my arrival to Bloomington, I shamelessly wrote angry poems bemoaning this country with lines like, "This land is vast, but its heart is tiny..."

So what has made me change my mind about America and ended my finger pointing at the U.S? It was because of a book written by a friend of mine, Mr. Le Van Phuc. The book, titled "I Am Guilty for the Loss of My Country", opened my eyes. When I read Mr. Phuc's confessions to his mistakes and dishonorable behavior which contributed to the collapse of Saigon, I was forced to look at my own past and see in myself a culprit who was just as guilty as anyone for destroying my motherland.

I had cheated my country by losing weight. The South Vietnamese military drafting law exempted men who were of poor health. Those who weighed less than 36 kilograms were considered too weak and excused from the draft for six months. My weight was usually only a kilo or two above this cut-off. When I received a letter from the Vietnamese Defense Ministry ordering me to go for a health check-up for the draft, I would fast for a few days to bring my weight down. I used this trick for years, to extend my civil life.

As the war escalated to a critical stage, especially after the Tet Offensive, nearly all the able-bodied men were drafted with the weight factor removed from the selection criteria. My trick was no longer usable. When I finally joined the ThuDuc Military Academy, I found I was several years older than the recruits.

I know that President Clinton was once a draft dodger and was publically denounced for this act. But I kept my mouth shut about it since his reasons for evading the draft were more legitimate than mine. Vietnam was not his country, and by refusing to fight, he was only expressing his opposition to killing and dying for a cause he didn't believe in. My draft evasion, however, was based on cowardice. I was afraid for my life, and would not sacrifice it even for democracy in my own country.

Living in the United States all these years has modified my views about the war to the point where I actually side with the pacifist that I once opposed. Everywhere I go, whether to a college campus or a crowded beach or a busy mall, I can't help but see all the young people living their lives with a long and hopeful future ahead of them. I sometimes imagine these same young souls drafted into the military, heads shaved, crowded like rats into barrack after barrack on an army base, enduring torturous training and then shipped to some third world country to fight, kill, and die in someone else's war. I don't think I like this picture.

Luckily for the free world, cowards like me are few, and this was especially true in Vietnam. South Vietnam had a courageous army which fought bravely and withstood the forces of communism for 21 years until 1975.

And when the world needs help, selfless sacrifice by Americans can still be relied upon. Whether it is a military defense, an economic bail-out, or humanitarian aid, the spirit of America is as strong as ever. America is a nation of volunteers, and you can see this country mobilize its citizens to help the world during every natural disaster, famine, or when an ally is invaded by a corrupt neighbor.

Dear James Keeran,

I want to end the book here, but I am afraid that I'm being unfair to other countries if the conclusion only sings the praises of the American people.

There are two more stories to tell. One has to do with six wild duck eggs and the other is related to the statue of liberty.

In 1979, my son Vinh who was 10 years old and his friend Chris found 6 wild-duck eggs on one of their trips to the local lake in Santee. They brought the eggs home, showed them to me, and then took off again on their bicycles.

I was about to bring the eggs into the kitchen and make a meal out of them for the two kids, but since I didn't know how they wanted them prepared, I decided to wait.

When they came back an hour later, I asked if they would like the eggs scrambled, fried, or boiled. They looked at me aghast, screaming with fright as if they saw Mr. Cannibal.

My son Vinh then showed me a book he borrowed from the library on chicken farming and pointed out a particular chapter dealing with methods of incubation.

Apparently, while I saw the eggs as food, the children saw them as potential pets.

So to make them happy, I built a container for the eggs using some wood and added an artificial light to provide heat. The boys carefully checked the temperature, adjusted the heat intensity, and examined the eggs every day. Unfortunately, the eggs turned out to be infertile, and no pets were had.

About a year later, Chris moved away with his mother to another city. My son has lost contact with him, and I regret not telling him a few things before he left. I fear Chris may have been given a negative impression of Vietnamese thinking they don't have the same fondness for pets like Americans.

I should have told him that during my own childhood, I loved and kept pets also. Although growing up in a village meant that eggs, frogs, or small birds were considered delicacies to impoverished children like me, I did raise some birds that I kept in bamboo cages I built. I also neglected my homework to spend time in the rice fields catching crickets and grasshoppers which I fed to my birds.

In countries like Vietnam, keeping pets as a hobby takes more effort since there is a gross lack of materials. In America, they have an industry set up for every recreational activity, and all the supplies a pet owner needs is at his nearest pet store.

Now I will tell you my story about the Statue of Liberty.

I am a little embarrassed to say this: After 20 years of living in this country, I have never visited the Statue to see it with my own eyes. I have seen her often in movies and books, and I even saw her disappear once on a "Magic of David Copperfield" special.

The closest I ever came to going to New York was when I visited Washington, D.C. near the end of 1996. I wanted to swing by New York, but I ran out of time at the end of my trip. Becoming an audience member on the David Letterman show is probably the only motivation I have left to go to New York and finally see her.

I have watched many movies where immigrants having eyes gleaming with hope and wearing eager smiles stand on a ship deck and expectantly watch the Statue pass in the distance as they arrive in this country. The Statue seems to send back an enthusiastic welcome and promises of prosperity and happiness.

To me, this thrilling moment is obligatory for all the immigrants who come here so that they can show gratitude for their new country full of freedom and opportunity.

I missed my chance to say hello because I had arrived on the Pacific side of America. I wonder if 20 years ago, had I come by way of New York, would I have stood with immobile reverence as I looked upon the Statue?

I don't think so.

My feeling toward her would not have been very pleasant when I first came. I was an immigrant who felt animosity toward her country and the memories of how my own had just fallen left me very bitter. There was no lightness of spirit that other immigrants may feel because they probably left behind oppression and poverty whereas I had abandoned my beloved countrymen and was fleeing from the imminent collapse of my homeland. The only emotions I had came from anger over how the war turned out. Had I seen the Statue of Liberty then, the only images it would inspire would be of spineless politicians, a naive media, and an ignorant anti-war movement, all of which were fooled by my enemy. I would have greeted her with a grim face indeed.

Things have changed in me since that time. Today, she would see a smile on my lips and a heart which is receptive to all the good things she represents. I would listen to the words carved at the base of her feet which carry the warm invitation to the peoples from all over the world regardless of race or religious disposition.

A Vietnamese hero once taught similar things to my people.

Mr Nguyen Trai had spent 10 years of his life as a advisor to Mr. Le Loi in the resistance against the Chinese who occupied Vietnam during the Ming Dynasty. After successfully driving the Chinese out, Mr. Nguyen Trai withdrew from political life and went back to his home in the country. There, he wrote a book of verses titled, "Gia Huan Ca", or "The Educational Song for the Family". The poem-like structure of this book followed a form known in Vietnamese as "six words and eight words." Here is a two sentence example:

Love others as you would love yourself
Give food and clothing to the needy
according to their needs.

This was written in the 15th century.

Mr. Nguyen wasn't the originator of these platitudes nor did he try to create an educational system in Vietnam based on these altruistic precepts. He only acted to compile, codify, and enhance the teachings of other enlightened men. The Vietnamese have for many generations, since before the 15th century, adopted this policy of helping others.

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,..."

"Love others as you would love yourself"

Those words have always induced in me the love of America and of mankind.

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