Early reflections on the war
Vietnam. Even the word stirs up many emotions and a wide range of responses. When we put Vietnam on the list we got all sorts of questions like "I spent most of my young adult life avoiding that place, why would you ever choose to go?" “Have the girls seen the Ken Burns documentary about the war?" And even blatant "why would you ever want to go there?" For some, even the idea of coming here seemed to represent a betrayal of either being a US citizen or to undermine their emotion surrounding the history between the US and this country on the other side of the world.
Honestly, part the reason we chose to come here was that mixed emotion surrounding US history in Indochina. That and the fact I fell in love with the idea of emergency medicine watching M.A.S.H re-runs at 2 am doing art projects in high school and college.
The girls are at this magic age. They are open to the world, can think critically as they create their world views. I wanted them to see the world, raw and up close. They know about the war. They have gone to the Vietnam memorial in Washington DC and found the names of half my dad's hockey team with him. I also wanted them to know this place was more than a war, but, a place full of beauty, and kindness and so many kids smiling and waving "hello." As politics and policies have become so much more hostile and divided at home, I wanted them to not only know but believe one of my favorite quotes: "it is hard to hate up close."
What I was not prepared for, however, was how much more it would affect me. I texted a friend part way through the tunnels reaching out to someone else of the same generations trying to understand how to put all of these contradictory feelings and thoughts in the same bucket. I found my eyes welling with tears at almost every corner and the "gun shooting range" at the tunnels, and I had to just a walk away, it was too much. And yet I was not drafted here; I didn't lose my friends to this war, I didn't experience this first hand in any way. And I didn't live in the same area, still being affected by agent orange where my parents once hid underground for years like the tour guide's parents.
I think part of the reason for the intense emotion, was the intensity of the displays. You went into the war museum, and there is a big sign saying "welcome to the museum on the War of American Aggression." There is a rawness in talking about a war when it happened on your soil, a rawness we have been sheltered from in the United States. A rawness in the photos, the US tanks in the middle of the city and in climbing through the tunnels where the Vietnamese lived and fought for years.
It is the same rawness struck me in in Croatia, how there should be three different words for war - war you fight with money and people who volunteer on another countries land, a war you fight in another land and draft soldiers and a whole other word for war when it is in your home, on your soil, among your people. It was again a striking reminder of how blessed I have been knowing such peace and stability through my formative years.
As our year moves on, the memories and stories pile together; it is this intense sense of a desire for peace that strikes me again and again. I am amazed at the resilience and forgiveness of the Vietnamese. I pull up facebook seeing friends "de-friend" each other because of policial difference and being here reminds me of how much nicer it is to see the similarities we all share than focusing on our differences and how easy it is to hate from afar, but how much stronger we are together.
There is the added intensity looking at this original iconic picture of the fear and horror of the war near the location it look place and your child about the same age. I kept checking in with the girls, to see if they were OK, how they were processing it all. They were reflective and thoughtful, but I realize more and more, the added vulnerability of having children and wanting them to be safe and protected with all of your heart adds an intensity to these places I don’t think they experience the same way.
The welcoming sign as you walk in - I learned of this war as the “Vietnam War” they learn of it as the “war of US Aggression.”
The whole court yard of the museum was filled with US tanks and helicopters, the size of which was impressive.
Coming out of a section of tunnel; it was hot, dark and claustrophobic - and there were occasional lights, air conditioning, no one was bombing us from above and we had a guide. I was a reminder of the power of the human sprit to survive, something I admire in my patients, in books and in these tunnels.
Our declaration of independence written next to pictures of war. A reminder of the values we set forth as a country. Values not to be forgotten.
Two things that always help me understand the world better, children and art. I was so grateful for the last room in the exhibit - full of children’s art, peace and hope.
Seeing the war through children’s eyes.
This picture captured my heart: the horror, the bombs, the missing parts, but despite that, the colors are vivid, it looks like there is a rainbow and the kid is still holding the hand of an adult. The wheelchair is almost like a rising sun finding beauty despite the distraction.
Powerful to read this on the New Year, 51 one years later .
There were many quotes on the walls of the museum that I don’t remember learning about when I learned about the war in school. Being here was to touch and feel the “other side of the story.”
And this - so this. The joy of peace.