Interviewed NGOC PHAN on Oct. 3, 2010 at the Allstate Office in South Louisville, Ky. Interviewed by Van Tran, Quang Le, Tuan Anh Vu. Photographed by Frank Bui."Live righteously, live joyously", this is Mr. Phan's personal maxim for the past 52 years. Mr. Phan is a sculptor who has been residing in Louisville for more than half his life, since 1975. Although Mr. Phan is deeply attached to his Vietnamese heritage, he has kept his distance from the Vietnamese community in Louisville. When his wife, who is not of Vietnamese descent, heard about our project, she encouraged him to share his story. She knew that her husband's stories of survival and rebirth had to be told and preserved. We first met this extraordinary couple at the opening of "Tieng Noi Luu Vong" in August. And this past Sunday, it all finally coalesced into a riveting and emotional two-hour interview this past Sunday.
Phan is an idealist, whose whimsical charm, humility and faith are clear. With his captivating style of story-telling, he retold stories of desperate and ominous situations that always eventually ended on the sunny side. Stories like when he had fallen asleep in an American Army jeep as a boy and was fired upon mercilessly by U.S. soldiers who had mistaken him for a Communist guerilla. He was wounded badly, but he miraculously survived with not a pint of hate or anger towards the young and nervous Americans who shot at him. Rather, with a solemn tone and his finger pointing to the ceiling, he exclaimed that "we have to thank all the soldiers -- Vietnamese and Americans. They did not travel half the world to die for nothing.”
His stories captivate you like those good old fashion ghost stories you hear around the campfire. With masterful command of his audience, he recounted how he once had to swim out to sea towards a black dot on the horizon to escape an advancing Communist Army using only a of piece styrofoam as floatation. Exhausted to his physical limit, Mr. Phan finally reached the boat but was met with the butt of an M-16 to his head. He fell straight back to the sea with blood gushing from his head and no strength to swim back to shore. It doesn't end there, of course, but it is only Mr. Phan’s charisma that can do justice and carry the incredible story the rest of the way. A good enough reason to be present at 2011 exhibit.
Mr. phan also shared his experience living as a Vietnamese in Louisville in the 70s and 80s. The loneliness, racial prejudice, uncertainty of the well being of his family in Vietnam, yet also, the sense of rebirth, a second chance, the passionate drive and motivating pride stemming from his Vietnamese identity. "You never stray far from home no matter how long you've been away". He admitted proudly his burst of uncontrollable tears when his foot touched the tarmac of Tan Son Nhat Airport in 1992. He proudly paraded his Hue (central Vietnam) accent, bragged about his Vietnamese cooking and his Kentucky-borned kids who adore all things Vietnam.
Incredible war stories, physical wounds to the body, emotional resilience and recovery, an engaging and contagious spirit, Mr. Phan's life is a story that will sure captivate.
Interviewed NGUYEN NGOC LAN on Sept. 29, 2010 at Home of Nguyen Ngoc Lan in South Louisville, Ky. Interviewed by Tuan Anh Vu. Photographed by Frank Bui.
Phan is an idealist, whose whimsical charm, humility and faith are clear. With his captivating style of story-telling, he retold stories of desperate and ominous situations that always eventually ended on the sunny side. Stories like when he had fallen asleep in an American Army jeep as a boy and was fired upon mercilessly by U.S. soldiers who had mistaken him for a Communist guerilla. He was wounded badly, but he miraculously survived with not a pint of hate or anger towards the young and nervous Americans who shot at him. Rather, with a solemn tone and his finger pointing to the ceiling, he exclaimed that "we have to thank all the soldiers -- Vietnamese and Americans. They did not travel half the world to die for nothing.”
His stories captivate you like those good old fashion ghost stories you hear around the campfire. With masterful command of his audience, he recounted how he once had to swim out to sea towards a black dot on the horizon to escape an advancing Communist Army using only a of piece styrofoam as floatation. Exhausted to his physical limit, Mr. Phan finally reached the boat but was met with the butt of an M-16 to his head. He fell straight back to the sea with blood gushing from his head and no strength to swim back to shore. It doesn't end there, of course, but it is only Mr. Phan’s charisma that can do justice and carry the incredible story the rest of the way. A good enough reason to be present at 2011 exhibit.
Mr. phan also shared his experience living as a Vietnamese in Louisville in the 70s and 80s. The loneliness, racial prejudice, uncertainty of the well being of his family in Vietnam, yet also, the sense of rebirth, a second chance, the passionate drive and motivating pride stemming from his Vietnamese identity. "You never stray far from home no matter how long you've been away". He admitted proudly his burst of uncontrollable tears when his foot touched the tarmac of Tan Son Nhat Airport in 1992. He proudly paraded his Hue (central Vietnam) accent, bragged about his Vietnamese cooking and his Kentucky-borned kids who adore all things Vietnam.Incredible war stories, physical wounds to the body, emotional resilience and recovery, an engaging and contagious spirit, Mr. Phan's life is a story that will sure captivate.
Interviewed NGUYEN NGOC LAN on Sept. 29, 2010 at Home of Nguyen Ngoc Lan in South Louisville, Ky. Interviewed by Tuan Anh Vu. Photographed by Frank Bui.A mother of three, a Vietnam War veteran widow of two decades, and a community-minded individual. With some reluctance, Mrs. Nguyen was eventual coaxed into giving an interview by a member of the Vietnamese Oral History Project team, Ngoc Uyen, her daughter.
Mrs. Nguyen, once the daughter of a high-ranking military officer with privileges, she spent most of her childhood carefree and untouched by tragedies, poverty, deaths, and violence -- all those things that were quietly omnipresence in Vietnam during that tumultuous time. That is, until the Tet offensive of 1968 when Communist guerillas infiltrated many peacefully unguarded cities in the South of Vietnam, including Saigon. And for the first time, young Ngoc Lan realized that her country was at war. She recounted how afraid she was of the invading Communists, not merely because they might kill her, but because she might be forced to wed one. For the remaining years of the war, Mrs. Nguyen lived relatively comfortable. She went to a prestigious college for advanced mathematics and computer while enjoying most of what the metropolis Saigon had to offer.
During the days of Saigon's collapse in 1975, she relived the terror of the 1968 Tet Offensive as Communist tanks rolled onto the streets of Saigon wavering red flags revealing who was who amongst the neighbors. Once again, afraid to be wedded to a Communist soldier, she was hidden in the house of a man who has lived by their house for as long as she can remember. He was a Communist who had a soft heart and a sense of reciprocity for the family that helped him in the past when he needed food and money. Wanting to escape by boat, her mother did not allow the family to break apart, " 'it's better we die together than live alone separately', my mother used to say".
Much later after the war, she rebuilt her life and married. Her husband, a Vietnamese who was trained as an English teacher in America during the war, taught, as did she, under the new Communist Vietnam. Eventually, they made their way to America, at first California, and then Kentucky. As a stay-at-home wife, she led a comfortable life until the sudden death of her husband. In shock, with little English skill, three kids to nurture, and not even a driver license to go find a job. She was lost and scared. With tears held back, she recounted being angry with herself for not being stronger for the sake of children who still needed her. Eventually, she dusted herself off and began enrolling in night classes at JCC and worked at full-time job. Mrs. Nguyen recounted how close-knit the Vietnamese Community was then when people simply arrived at her steps to offer a drive to the grocery, or company help bare the burden of a widow. No appointments needed. All that is no longer there. The Community doesn't need itself anymore, and for her, it is bittersweet.
Mrs. Nguyen, once the daughter of a high-ranking military officer with privileges, she spent most of her childhood carefree and untouched by tragedies, poverty, deaths, and violence -- all those things that were quietly omnipresence in Vietnam during that tumultuous time. That is, until the Tet offensive of 1968 when Communist guerillas infiltrated many peacefully unguarded cities in the South of Vietnam, including Saigon. And for the first time, young Ngoc Lan realized that her country was at war. She recounted how afraid she was of the invading Communists, not merely because they might kill her, but because she might be forced to wed one. For the remaining years of the war, Mrs. Nguyen lived relatively comfortable. She went to a prestigious college for advanced mathematics and computer while enjoying most of what the metropolis Saigon had to offer.During the days of Saigon's collapse in 1975, she relived the terror of the 1968 Tet Offensive as Communist tanks rolled onto the streets of Saigon wavering red flags revealing who was who amongst the neighbors. Once again, afraid to be wedded to a Communist soldier, she was hidden in the house of a man who has lived by their house for as long as she can remember. He was a Communist who had a soft heart and a sense of reciprocity for the family that helped him in the past when he needed food and money. Wanting to escape by boat, her mother did not allow the family to break apart, " 'it's better we die together than live alone separately', my mother used to say".
Much later after the war, she rebuilt her life and married. Her husband, a Vietnamese who was trained as an English teacher in America during the war, taught, as did she, under the new Communist Vietnam. Eventually, they made their way to America, at first California, and then Kentucky. As a stay-at-home wife, she led a comfortable life until the sudden death of her husband. In shock, with little English skill, three kids to nurture, and not even a driver license to go find a job. She was lost and scared. With tears held back, she recounted being angry with herself for not being stronger for the sake of children who still needed her. Eventually, she dusted herself off and began enrolling in night classes at JCC and worked at full-time job. Mrs. Nguyen recounted how close-knit the Vietnamese Community was then when people simply arrived at her steps to offer a drive to the grocery, or company help bare the burden of a widow. No appointments needed. All that is no longer there. The Community doesn't need itself anymore, and for her, it is bittersweet.
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