The Ties That Bind
May 30, 2003
Editor’s Note: The following essay received third place in the annual Growing Up Asian in America contest.
Like many Silicon Valley companies these days, my family is going through some drastic downsizing of our own. With Grandma retiring abroad and Great-grandmother returning to her homeland “waiting to die,” my support system pretty much goes up in flames. Indeed, these two humans have been my strongest allies in the up-and-down cycle of life. From witty advice whispered into my ears to zealous cheers from the sidelines, Grandma always makes sure her favorite granddaughter either does not lose or loses gracefully.
While my father comes from a typically large and close-knit family, they all remain in Vietnam, thousands of miles across the Pacific Ocean. This presents quite a disadvantage when it comes to kinship and relations. From the beautiful stories and longing memories that my father constantly recounts in deeply loving words, I sense that we are missing out a lot by living remotely from our paternal grandparents. Though we stay in touch via letters and phone calls, the language barrier is simply too big a gap in the already-distant relationship. Thankfully, all is not lost. My mother came to this country fully packed, complete with a mother and a grandmother. While she may not be as “authentic” as the grandma in Vietnam, this unconventional and atypical maternal grandma is a treasure to be had. A librarian since she arrived in the United States in 1975, she spends her retirement volunteering at public libraries, patiently mending book covers, binding and shelving books and lending the parents and children a helping hand wherever she can. Enriched by a life overfilled with bilingual (French and Vietnamese) education, careers, adversities, fortune and misfortune, my grandmother is anything but ordinary. Having been a schoolteacher, businesswoman, pharmacist, banker, head of a major import/export enterprise and frequent traveler, she is full of wisdom and can shell out sensible and practical advice at the drop of a hat. Cryptic handwriting, ineffective note taking or disenchantment with a classmate? No problem. The teacher-grandma would patiently hold my hand while practicing cursive, reviewing my notes and giving me tips to sharpen my listening skills (which would lead to better note-taking), attentively exploring the situation with the classmate and casually reshaping my perspective of him/her. Fear of public speaking or having a problem defending an ideal? Fear no longer. The corporate-grandma would guide me through speech preparation, breathing techniques and body language, emphasizing honesty, flexibility and humility. Using mostly anecdotes and lots of humor, her points and opinions often come across in a rather unique, subtle and non-critical way. For instance, over dinner, she would nonchalantly reminisce on a slew of amusing fables. There was the untrustworthy friendship of the squirrel toward the porcupine, the retaliation of the pelican on the wolf and the triumph of the little fox over the ferocious tiger. That night, lying in bed waiting to fall asleep, it would dawn on me that it was yet another message from Grandma, regarding the shaky relationship between a so-called friend and me. Suddenly, the tips from the honest porcupine, the bold pelican and the clever fox didn’t seem too silly anymore.
Be it fiction or non-fiction, I am never tired of Grandma’s yarn. Where she comes from, there seems to be an endless chronicle of historical legends, proverbs, fairy tales, as well as horrendous war stories, sacrifices, poverty, homelessness and overpopulation of orphaned children. Though many of Grandma’s old adages and tall tales emphasize pretty much the same sentiment as the English ones, her Vietnamese versions give quite a different perspective, which I find utterly refreshing. Despite our broken English and insufficient Vietnamese, Grandma and I have no problem communicating and appreciating each other’s company. As she helps me bond with a country that I would otherwise relate to only in blood, I help to bring Grandma closer to the culture of her adopted country.
Existing silently next to her dynamic daughter, legally-deaf-and-blind-Great-grandmother is surprisingly not as oblivious to her surroundings as one would think. When I would come home from school, she would press her face against mine and touch it lightly. Like a clairvoyant, she could tell what sort of day I’d had and grill Grandma in Vietnamese, “What’s wrong with the child?” Screaming at the top of her lungs, Grandma would do some erratic explanation in a few short sentences. (Great-grandmother enigmatically hears and thoroughly understands only her daughter’s voice and words). Later that evening, after dinner was over and the kitchen had emptied out, Great-grandmother would quietly fix up a dessert that would supposedly increase the “positiveness” in body chemistry and cheer me up. If I were studying for final exams, it’d be a different kind of dessert that would “energize the brain.” Whatever truth there is in these remedies, the mere image of the tiny mostly-deaf-blind woman feeling her way around the kitchen and risking the hot stove to express her love, works wonder for me!
Just as she had wished, Great-grandmother is now back in her motherland, waiting to Òbecome one with the soil/dirt” where she originated from. Never separated in more than seven decades, Grandma is profoundly heartbroken by this ordeal. It is, thus, only understandable that one desires to live closer to her cousin and childhood friend who can better fill in the void. Just like Grandma unselfishly let Great-grandmother go, Mother braces herself and supports Grandma in her move. As for me, these two phenomenal women have always been the windows into the backyard of a land I’ve never been to but will forever be part of. The voids they have left in our daily lives have both physically and mentally taken a great toll on my mom and me. Significantly gone are Great-grandmother’s Eucalyptus herbal scent, Grandma’s hairpiece that she often absent-mindedly left on top of the TV and the clotheslines over the bathtub where Great-grandmother used to hang dry her hand-washed undergarments. Now living on distant continents, I can still let Grandma know how much she’s missed, but without her “personal interpreter,” there goes any chance of telling Great-grandmother just once more how much she is loved.
Through their actions and words, both Grandma and Great-grandmother have more than convinced me of the virtues of resilience, versatility, ethics and compassion. They have left with me a pocketful of insights, which grants me enough comfort and wit to overcome and move forward in life. Thanks to their presence in my life, I am inherently and ardently rooted!
Michelle Nguyen, 14, attends St. Francis High School in Mountain View.
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