I came to Vietnam seeking forgiveness.
Around 1970, when my father was about to be drafted and sent to war in Vietnam, he and my mother hurriedly married and headed for Canada. Two years later I was born in North Vancouver, British Columbia, an American born abroad. After 18 years in Canada, I migrated to the San Francisco Bay Area—the place where my father spent much of his youth, and where many of his family members still lived at the time. Though on the surface this move was for university and athletics, in retrospect I believe I was drawn south by a deeper unconscious desire to understand my Americanness.
When I recently learned of a need for workers from my company to travel to Vietnam, this same desire caused my insides to leap. I volunteered as quickly as I could. Something inside me longed to push yet farther into my own history by visiting a country I knew little of, yet that had so profoundly shaped me and my family. There was something I needed in Vietnam. Continue reading