Thanksgiving 2006

I don’t think, that in all my years, I’ve ever been party to a conversation like the one I was part of this morning. As is our family’s tradition on Thanksgiving morning, I was making the third trip to the store to forage for last minute items for dinner. It is always inevitable that no matter how many trips are made to the store the week preceeding Thanksgiving or how much money is spent, there are always several last minute items that have been forgotten.

Be that as it may….during the checkout process at the local “Grab and Sack” I had occasion to enter into a conversation with the owner of the store - a middle aged gentleman from South Viet Nam. In that I had never had the opportunity to speak with him at length, I casually asked him how long he had been in the US. Little did I know, that the conversation that was to follow would bring tears to my eyes and a sense of gratitude for the nation that we live in, that I have not experienced in years.

In halting English, he then proceeded to tell me of how he, along with his brother and thirty-some-odd other refugees had fled communist South Viet Nam shortly after the nation was lost to the invading army from the north. He spoke of spending two plus weeks adrift in a fishing boat in the South China Sea. He spoke of sharing only three gallons of water with those aboard his boat. He explained that all he was allowed was one capful of water in the morning and two capsful in the evening. He talked of catching a dolphin (the fish) and drinking it’s blood in order to supplement the small amount of water that they all shared.

After two weeks at sea, they were rescued by a fishing boat from Thailand. He spoke in a hushed voice of how two small children and an elderly lady were raped and then murdered by the Thai fishermen. After another four days of being towed behind the Thai fishing boat, they arrived in Thailand and were confined to a “refugee” camp for the next year. Ha!…more like a prison camp. Fighting back the tears, he spoke of how he would sneak out of camp each mornig, swim a nearby river, and work for local fishermen mending their nets in order to make a little money to help he and his brother survive. Oh yeah, he told of the nightly beatings he would receive for leaving camp.

Finally, after lying to officials about people waiting in the US to sponser he and his brother, he received permission to come to this country. With a look of fierce determination, he said, “I was willing to say anything or do anything to get to this wonderful country. I wanted freedom and the opportunity to live a good life”.

That, my friends, made my Thanksgiving. If I don’t get to eat a bite of turkey. If I never lay eyes on a pumpkin pie or get to savor dressing with giblet gravy, my Thanksgiving is made. What an incredible story of one man’s quest for the freedom that only living in America can bring.