Daddy's little girl — all grown up and still . . .

Looking up to you

A newborn baby with starry eyes,
Looking up to you as you hold me tight.
New to this world, and so much to see,
I am blessed that you’re my daddy. 

Learning to walk or sharing a dance
I trusted you to hold my hand.
Riding a bike or hitting a ball
You were there to teach it all

I look to you for hope when I have my doubts.
I look to you for help to figure things out.
You give me support whenever I fall.
I look up to you through it all.

Seeing the world high on your shoulders,
You gave me the world even as I got older.
Learning and growing, and never alone,
I am now ready to fly on my own.

Never looking down on my mistakes
Instead you helped me pave the way.
Keep going forward as hard as it seems
You never stopped believing in me

I look to you for hope when I have my doubts.
I look to you for help to figure things out.
You give support whenever I fall.
I look up to you through it all.

I remember walking down the aisle,
And being comforted by your smile.
Never will I forget the advice you shared,
Nor the promise you'll always be there.

Looking at my kids and having you here,
My mind races back through all the years.
I’m daddy’s little girl since I was born 
I look up to you more and more

I look to you for hope when I have my doubts.
I look to you for help to figure things out.
You give me support whenever I fall.
I look up to you through it all.

— Mimi Hoang Kuehn

My hero is someone who ran away from his worst fear, and is the same person I look up to the most. He's also someone who has given up everything that he has owned and known. This person risked his life and worked tirelessly in order for his children to have the opportunity to achieve their dream. This person is not a superhero or a super athlete, but rather he is much more than that...he's my dad. Imagine that.

Continue imagining being in a fearful situation of choosing whether to fight or take flight. For example, how many of you had a childhood bully and were too afraid to face him or her, either by not having the courage to tell your parents or having to resort to fighting the bully yourself? Now envision, as an adult, a type of fear that is so overwhelming that maybe the best decision is to run away from it? Also picture having to make that decision with kids in tow. Scary, isn’t it?

Even before I was born, my parents made the most important decision in their lives by deciding to run away from their worst fear – the rise of Communism in Vietnam shortly after the Vietnam War ended. We found refuge by escaping from a country that we once loved but now have grown to fear.

My family’s fears of Vietnam resulted from years of conflicts, including the Vietnam War, which lasted from the mid-1950s until 1975. The Vietnam War was the second of two major conflicts that spread throughout Indochina, which included Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. Dispute continued through the Vietnam War, a war that has caused 2 to 3 million Indochinese to be killed and 58,000 Americans to die. After a long history of conflicts, Vietnam was formerly reunified on July 2, 1976.

The reunification of Vietnam led to a difficult period of dealing with the aftermath of the war. Some 200,000 supporters of the former regime were removed to "re-education" camps where they were trained to appreciate socialism and communism and were forced to admit that they were wrong for being involved with the old regime. Since my father was a sergeant for the former South Vietnamese government and was an English interpreter for the U.S. government, he was arrested and forced to attend one of these "re-education" camps for a month because he held firm to his beliefs. To this day, he never accepted nor followed what was taught at these terrorizing camps.

Another problem arising from the rise of the Communist regime was the fall of the economy. In 1978 the government planners announced the nationalization of all industrial and commercial enterprises above the family level and began to create low-level collective organizations in the countryside. Frequently, the police searched people’s homes for gold, jewelry, and other valuables. My family experienced hardships from the government. My father became jobless after having left the "re-education" camps. He recalls a time when the government forced people to be concentrated into new areas known as New Economic Zones. My family somehow avoided being sent to these new zones; yet, we were still insisted to move nearly 30 miles out of town to farm sweet potatoes and rice. The ordeals that my family went through are parallel to the disastrous outcomes of other families due to the Communist regime. More than 1.4 million Vietnamese fled the country by sea and as many as 50,000 of these "boat people" may have perished in flight. Nearly a million settled abroad, including some 725,000 in the United States. Luckily for my family, we were the fortunate boat people who made it safely to another destination. As with many of the thousands of Vietnamese refugees, we had to flee from the militaristic style of government and the overly impoverished economy of Vietnam.

Some of you at this time may be wondering what exactly is a refugee since I have been mentioning that term several times already. Refugees are persons who have fled their country or been expelled from it and who cannot or will not because they fear persecution. And yes, my family and I were refugees. My father gave the same reason as I had mentioned earlier as to why we had escaped. We escaped because we were scared of our own country after the Fall of Saigon. Therefore, he thought it would be dangerous to live in Vietnam as a result. To get a clear idea of the effects of the Vietnam War, here's a link. The means of escaping would entail that you had to know people who had connections, such as the boat owners. Secondly, you need to trust the boat owners because there was always the chance that he can have you set up to be arrested. There also has to be enough people who want to go. In our case, our boat owner would not accept money, so we had to pay in gold. Then we had to pick a time to escape. We decided to leave late at night so we would not be discovered.

My father had planned this escape since the very beginning of the Communist takeover of Rach Gia on April 30, 1974. Sometime in August 1978, my father was approached by a relative of his who told him about the availability of a boat. He collected virtually all of the family’s savings and paid the boat owner. Everyone had to pay ahead of time and in gold. He paid in units called Taels, which weighs a little more than an ounce. Each adult had to pay ten Taels and each child five Taels. The total cost of the escape was about $3,500 which was to include food for the trip. On September 29 at midnight, my family boarded the boat; however, there was no food and we had to nibble on whatever we had happened to bring along. The boat was a fishing boat which held 100 to 200 passengers. As mentioned earlier, when someone had to "alleviate" themselves, they would have to sit there and relieve themselves on the spot. The voyage was especially difficult because it was the rainy season which made the sea very rough. On top of that, my brothers, sister, and I were crying constantly. I remember faintly my parents explaining to us children what was happening. I remember being very scared when they told us children we could not go home; however, they reminded us how the Communists had treated us at home, especially on the day when the security forces came into our home and took whatever valuables they can find. They gave my father a receipt for the items but not money. My father told me that after telling me that story, I no longer cried because somehow, I seemed to understand why we were leaving.

Sometime between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m. on October 6, the boat stopped at Malaysian territory. Everyone was aware that they were not authorized to land in Malaysia. Later on in the morning, we were discovered by the police. We were informed that we were in Malaysia illegally and would be sent back to Vietnam. Of course we were frightened. Arrangements were made later in the day to send us to Trengganu in Western Malaysia. From Trengganu we were shipped to Pulau Bidong, an island about thirty miles off the Malaysian coast. When we arrived at Pulau Bidong, the refugee count was 6,000. When we left eight months later, the number had risen to 45,000.

My family’s treatment on Pulau Bidong were treated poorly, a time when the memories of the Vietnam War was still fresh and refugees were viewed negatively. For example, the authorities in charge of the island did not sympathize with the refugee situation. The refugees were prohibited from doing many things. Whenever we bought anything, it was always priced higher than normal. There were no houses on the island so we had to get wood from the mountains and build our own. Plastic for windows was paid for with jewelry. Even though we were not treated very well, we were grateful to the Malaysian authorities for letting us stay.

Still, we anticipated on leaving this island as soon as possible. My father said that we had to wait awhile on the island because we had to wait for our files to be reviewed. The Delegation would review each file one by one, so we had to wait. Since he had worked for the U.S. government during the war, it didn’t take us too long to wait to get accepted. There my father picked three countries that we would like to go which included the United States, Australia, and Canada. Even when we were accepted by the United States, we still had to wait for a sponsor. My father added that it would be another 7-8 months before we were permitted to leave for the United States.

The United Nations High Commission on Refugees made the decision about who left the island and who stayed. Delegates from many countries, including the United States, Australia, Italy, Canada, France, West Germany, Sweden, Norway, and the United Kingdom, interviewed the refugees. My father went through a four-stage procedure before being permitted to leave for the United States. The first step was to meet the qualifications for admission to the United States. There were four categories: those who had close relatives in the U.S., those who had worked for or previously served for the U.S. government, those who had ever worked for the former South Vietnamese government, and those who could only leave if a government raised its allocation and decided to accept extra people. The second step required reporting to the American delegation for screening. At this time, everyone had to swear that all information given so far was true before being sworn in by an Immigration and Naturalization officer. The third step was most important, which was getting a sponsor. No refugee was allowed in the U.S. even if they met other requirements. From here, the files of the refugees were submitted to various voluntary agencies which included the Church World Service and the United States Catholic Conference. These agencies would recommend a family to their membership and wait for someone to agree to be a sponsor.

My family was sponsored by Reverend and Mrs. Gillis and the rest of the congregation from the Shoregate United Methodist Church in Willowick, Ohio. As a result of our acceptance, our name was put on a moving list on June 5, 1979, thus initiating the fourth step. From here we were sent to Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, where we underwent blood tests and x-rays. On June 29, we left Kuala Lumpur for the United States. We made stops in Guam, Honolulu, and then flew to San Francisco where we were met by Church World Service representatives. On June 30, 1979 my family arrived in Cleveland and began to build our new "home" with no foundation to start.

My family started out as a homeless family in the U.S., although that did not matter to us because we heard that one can do anything in America. And that we did. Being homeless did not prevent us from moving up the social ladder and be where we are today. We took what started out as nothing and made it into something.

We began our lives in America by living in the Shoregate United Methodist Church for a month. It was not a house, but it truly was a home -- we were grateful to have a roof over our heads, especially since we had never experienced cold weather before, and blessed to have a church family of strangers who embraced us with their generosity. They helped my father find a minimum-wage job as a clerk at a fire station. Our family did not own many nice things during our first years in America. Everything we owned were donated to us by the church. It did not matter to us that our clothes were hand-me-downs and worn out. It was a few months before we moved into our first real home, which was half of a townhouse. Having a home was the greatest accomplishment, especially for my parents because it meant that we were no longer homeless. It also meant we now have a strong foundation to base our dreams on.

Having a strong foundation and being given the chance to accomplish one’s dreams are what my father views most highly and proud of about being in the United States. He feels that in the United States, one can do anything without worrying about people ordering you what to do. You can say or do whatever you want. He felt it was too confining that you had to strictly follow the unjust laws of the government. For example, if you said anything badly about the government, even if it was meant only as a joke, the government had the right to arrest you. Even with the new strict government, he felt he and my mother would have been content living in Vietnam because they had made something of their lives before Communism had taken over. He adds that restrictions in Vietnam made it difficult to accomplish anything. That is why he feels that his biggest accomplishment in the United States is when all of his children find their true happiness.

I understand and appreciate why my parents say their dream is for my siblings and me to have better lives than they had. They overcame many obstacles in pursuit of this dream, including having to put our lives in danger and leaving family and friends behind. I am amazed by my dad's heroism and devotion to his family. With children of my own, it's even more important than ever for me to learn more from my dad, be more in touch with my past and heritage, and pass that knowledge on to my children. All of that are part of who I am. In time, I hope my children will have that same self-discovery and will look up to their grandfather as much as I do.