My grandfather’s English was limited.
Or, maybe, it’s more fair to say that my Vietnamese is limited.
Ong–as I called him–was born on on March 19, 1934 in Binh Duong, Vietnam. He was an accountant at Binh Duong’s Youth and Sports Department and later managed his family’s ice-making plant. In 1959, he laid eyes on my beautiful grandma for the first time, setting the course for my life and our immediate family history.
In 1984, he immigrated to the United State with my grandma and their children. In the United States, he worked in the print shop of Riverside Furniture until his retirement. He spent the rest of his days reclining, fixing his car, traveling and loving us and a black pit bull named Onyx. Continue reading