Abraham Lincoln's Letter

Reference - Abraham Lincoln and His Books, By William Eleazar Barton, p. 70):

Dear Brother

 I sincerely hope father may recover his health; but at all events, tell him to call upon and confide in our great and good merciful Maker, who will not turn away from him in any extremity. He notes the fall of a sparrow, and numbers the hairs on our heads, and He will not forget the dying man, who puts his trust in Him. Say to him if that if we could meet now it is doubtful whether it would not be more painful than pleasant, but that if it be his lot to go now he will soon have a joyous meeting with many loved ones gone before, and where the rest of us, through the help of God, hope ere long to join him.

Write to me again when you receive this.

Affectionately,
Lincoln

President Nixon’s Birthplace

“I was born in a house my father built.”

--Richard M. Nixon

            President Richard M. Nixon proudly opened his memoir with the quote, “I was born in a house my father built.” President Nixon lends me his quote to open my article about him and boastingly add, “I have visited the house where President Nixon was born.”  

            In my childhood, during the last few years of the end of the Vietnam War, many Vietnamese children knew about “Tổng Thống Mỹ Nit-xing” (“Nixon, the American President”) and the Apollo 11 spaceship landing on the moon. In our innocent minds, we sensed that President Nixon played an important role in the Vietnam War, but we did not know how and why; we never questioned or tried to understand more about him. In the United States, in college, I learned about Nixon and the Watergate Scandal that ruined his political career. I did not know much about the Scandal, but I thought it was unfair for him. I decided to learn more about President Nixon. Unfortunately, my plan has been in line for years.

 Last year, I reached Hoang Lan Evans, my childhood best friend, after fifteen years apart. She proudly told me that she lived in Yorba Linda, the city where President Nixon was born; the Nixon Library was very close to her house, and she wished for us to visit the Library together. Lan invited us to celebrate the Fourth of July with her family, and we would go to the Nixon Library. I was very excited; I cried out, “Isn’t it cool when we can celebrate the American Independence Day at the American president’s birthplace.”

            Lan laughed and replied, “Anhthao, you are so patriotic and Americanized.”

 Some books and DVDs about President Nixon were on Hoang Lan’s bookshelf. She told me many stories about President Nixon’s life. I confessed, “President Nixon is not my favorite president, so I do not know much about him, although I do like his quotes. I collect many of his powerful quotes that teach me moral lessons and keep me on track.”

             Hoang Lan told me, “You will find many quotes at the library.”

 I brought the Star-Spangled Banner piano musical sheet with me in the hope that I would play the piano while Hoang Lan’s family members and Dan sang aloud on the morning of the Fourth of July, but the plan did not come to fruition. I missed the moment to lift the American flag high up to the sky because of my flaw at the Nixon Library. We took turns to take photos in front of the United States Presidential Seal on the floor. In my opinion, it was disrespectful and unacceptable to step on the United States flag and seal. However, how could people avoid stepping on them while the designs were emblazoned on the floors?

 We entered the big hall; a staff member invited us to sign a facsimile of the Declaration of Independence with a fountain pen. I wanted to express my love to the United States, but my mind was blank. Hoang Lan teased me, “Anhthao, are you writing a novel? You are only allowed to sign your name. Hurry up! We are waiting for our turn.”

              Dan smiled, “She is writing a poem.”
              Matt, Hoang Lan’s husband, added, “She is a true poet!”      
              We hurriedly came to East Room to watch singer Tony Orlando’s performance. Tony Orlando sang Neil Diamond’s song, “Coming to America”:
                               But not without a star
                               Free
                                  Far
Only want to be free
We huddle close
Hang on to a dreamFree
Only want to be free
We huddle close
Hang on to a dreamFree
Only want to be free
We huddle close
Hang on to a dreamFF           We've been travelling far/Without a home/ But not without a star
                           Free…..
                        Only want to be free/We huddle close/ Hang on to a dream
                        On the boats and on the planes/ They're coming to America
                        Never looking back again/ They're coming to America
                        Home, don't it seem so far away/Oh, we're travelling light today
                        In the eye of the storm/ In the eye of the storm
                        Home, to a new and a shiny place/ Make our bed, and we'll say our grace
                        Freedom's light burning warm/ Freedom's light burning warm…..

Tony’s loud, resonant, deep, and warm voice tore my heart. A past movie popped up in my mind: back to April 1975, the waves of Vietnamese refugees worriedly and anxious climbed onto airplanes. They barged, rudely pushed forward, and kicked others hard in the hope to get on an airplane to the United States. Many boat people furiously travelled the risky ocean for freedom. Tiresome immigrants with hopeful, flashing eyes lined up at ports to wait for their turn to enter the United States. My tears fell down. Dan slowly dried my tears with his handkerchief. He held my hand tightly to share my woe.

            We clapped hands while Tony sang: “Home, don't it seem so far away / Oh, we're travelling light today / In the eye of the storm / In the eye of the storm.”

            Tony paused and asked the war veterans in the audience to stand. He started with the World War II vets, then Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan vets. He sang to each of them: "You put your life on the line for America!” We sang aloud:  
                        Got a dream to take them there / They're coming to America
                        Got a dream they've come to share /They're coming to America
                        They're coming to America/They're coming to America
                        They're coming to America/ They're coming to America/ Today…..
                        My country 'tis of thee (today)
                        Sweet land of liberty/ (today)
                        Of thee I sing (today)
                        Of thee I sing (today)…..
             We followed Tony out of the room. Dan told me, “Honey, Tony sang the song, “Coming to America” by Neil Diamond.
            I sobbed, “Amazing! He sang with all his heart.”
                  We started our tour at the Exhibit Galleries. Dan pointed to the words on the wall and talked aloud, “Honey, this year is the 100^th birthday of President Nixon.”
            Hoang Lan called me, “Anhthao, come here! President Nixon’s quotes are waiting for you.”
            Hoang Lan read, “I was born in the house that my father built…We worked hard, but had a happy life.”
            Hoang Lan continued, “Anhthao, this land was his family farm. His family was poor. When he was a boy, he dreamed of riding on a train to different places. He made his dream come true.”
            I smiled and said, “Wow! You are so good! You have learned American history so well.”
            She laughed and retorted, “It is because I am a friend of a patriotic woman who always wears an American flag pin when she goes out.”
            We walked outside. We knelt in front of the graves of President Nixon and his First Lady, Patricia Ryan “Pat” Nixon. Dan asked me, “Honey, do you want to talk to and pray with President Nixon and Patricia?”
            My tongue was tied; I shook my head. I looked at the note on Patricia’s stone: “Even when people can't speak your language, they can tell if you have love in your heart." I thought, “They understand my love of the United States and my admiration for them. That’s enough.”
            Dan’s voice was loud enough that I could hear, “Dear Mr. President and First Lady, I am thinking of you, a man who grew up in Southern California. You married the woman whom you loved and became a president of the United States. Finally, you were laid to rest in the ground in front of me. I am here with Anhthao, the woman whom I love, at this important place in American History. Your legacy motivates me to work harder to bring happiness to myself and Anhthao.”
           We both said, “Amen!”
            After we visited Nixon’s house, Dan gave me a folded sheet of paper and said, “Honey, please read it.”
            Hoang Lan teased us, “Anhthao and Dan, you are so romantic. Dan wrote a love poem for you, right?”
            I opened it; we read, “Here is a man who was born to a poor farmer in Yorba Linda, California. The house he was born in still stands on the grounds of the Nixon Library. Less than one hundred yards away, Nixon is buried with his wife, Pat. In his memoir, Nixon states that he would lie awake at night as a boy, listening to train whistles. This would cause him to fantasize about traveling to other places. Because of Richard Nixon’s ambition, he became president. If not for this ambition, he would not have been buried just yards away from the house in which he was born. The house would have probably been demolished, and he would have likely chosen a final resting place countless miles from his childhood home. It is fascinating how we, as individuals, have the potential to steer the course of our own lives and the lives of others.”
           Hoang Lan commented, “You guys are good matches!”
       Dan turned me around; my face faced his; he bent his head and gave me a long, passionate kiss on my lips. Sweetly he murmured, “Thank you for coming to the United States, my pretty Yellow Flower.”
           I stared at Hoang Lan; Matt also gave Hoang Lan a long, tender kiss. Megan, Hoang Lan’s daughter, looked at us. She clapped her hands. We laughed. Together, we held hands and went home, happily ever after. 

            Los Angeles; July 9, 201 President Nixon’s Birthplace

Flowers

The Fourth of July

Driving along

The explosions of joys
The flaming raining lavas
Erupt high up to the sky
Forming coloring shapes
Sparkling canopies
Flapping red, white, blue rectangles
Purple stars, green smiley faces
Crystal balls, orange hearts,
Silver stripes, yellow ribbons  
Golden puppies, black- eyed- susans

The smoldering figures

Downpour back to the earth
Like hopeful ethnicities
Launch their diverse dreams
Into the promised spaces
Return to the individuals
Become their own treasures

 Anhthao Bui

10:00 p.m. July 4, 2013

 

 

 

He Left

She stands in front of the empty coffin, under the 35-star bleeding flag. Walt Whitman’s melody murmurs into her ear, “Oh Captain! Oh Captain! You’re fallen cold and dead.” She continues Walt Whitman’s words, “So long! Never More! The end is the beginning of the new journey.” Finally, I visit you, Mr. Lincoln.  A Vietnamese woman loves the United States more than her own motherland, Vietnam. She admires Abraham Lincoln, whom she chooses as her spiritual man, who understands her wishes, her ambitions and her desires. She believes in supernatural power and the connection between the present world and the afterworld.  He who keeps her secret wishes and grants her dream because he states,

“That every man may receive at least, a moderate education, and thereby be enabled to read the histories of his own and other countries, by which he may duly appreciate the value of our free institutions, appears to be an object of vital importance, even on this account alone, to say nothing of the advantages and satisfaction to be derived from all being able to read the scriptures and other works, both of a religious and moral nature, for themselves.”

--Abraham Lincoln’s first political Announcement;
  New Salem, Illinois; March 9, 1832

 Her inner voice communicates with his spirit: “Every day, many U.S. residents and foreigners visit you and learn about you, but not many ethnic women come from the third-world countries to understand the history of the United States and engage with your words like me, dear Abe.”
She reluctantly lifts her lazy feet to turn in any direction. All at once, her eyes flash as if a battery is recharged when she catches Abraham Lincoln’s blue eyes. She looks up, raises her eyebrows up, and tries to reach Abraham Lincoln’s sight. Her lips are moving; she mumbles, “muh…muh…” However, she feels the curious scrutiny of the visitors; she is embarrassed; she immediately walks away down the hall.

 --Anhthao Bui, 

   June 27, 2013