Clichés abound about the value of photographs. Most are probably true at least to a certain extent. What I do know about an image is that it represents something of the past that is not the pastitself. But that is the power of any image. It represents something that once was. The beauty of an image, revisited, is that it functions as a catalystfor reliving in the present a past experience. My own view, one that I thank the Spanish writer Jorge Luis Borges for, is that all we ever can experience is the present. The presentallows us to re-experience a past event or feeling as a recollection. Our recollections of the past can only always be approximate and are necessarily tempered by all that has happened to us since then.
Nonetheless, revisiting the past through images can be a profoundly moving journey, one that I have been on for several weeks now.
Over the past several weeks I have been scanning color slides and negatives taken over 40 years ago while working in Vietnam for the International Rescue Committee.
Our job was to help internally displaced refugees build new lives for themselves while the war went about its indifferent business around them.
Actually, its indifference all too frequently interfered with their lives with tragic consequences. But that is war’s way.
It is a merciless juggernaut that cuts down anyone in its way. I look at the faces of kids now much, much older, and wonder how things fared for them. I think of the many ironies that we confronted daily. Chief among them was our daily trek in the IRC jeep to the First Air Cavalry base tocollect empty wooden rocket boxes. We would break down the boxes, load them onto the trailer, and haul them back to the village where they were used to build homes, furniture and pens for animals.
One of our proudest achievements was acquiring approval to send one of the villagers to Saigon to be trained as a carpenter so that he could return andstart a training program for village youth. Another of those ironies is that when he came back home we used quite a few rocket boxes in the construction of the open air school and for quite some time they were the basic material for the kids to work on. One is reminded of the notion of turning swords into ploughshares. I have quite a few slides of the school, kidsworking on projects, as well as the ceremonial gathering to celebrate its completion and the start of school. I remember quite vividly giving in alltoo readily to invitations to have just one more sip of rice wine.
One slide that I have looked at over and over again is of one of my little buddies sitting astride the bamboo jungle gym that we built with a big, wide, contented grin on his face. I suspected then, and still believe now, that he saw it as a neat sort of perch on high from which he could survey his dominion. Kind of a human aerie. Over time, the kids started to scramble all over this strange contraption with unbridled glee. It was satisfying in many ways, but none the least of which was that even the youngestchild in the village could experience a few moments of unfettered play in a world rife with interminably hard work and the daily consequences of manmade tragedy.
Among the many images is a series that records the day we took the village kids down to the river for a swim and picnic. Their beautiful faces shine brightly against the backdrop of the sundrenched, sparkling water. I did not need these images to remember their faces, to feel again the effects of their generous spirits. But as I sat here at my desk mesmerized by the images in front of me, I felt again the warmth of sun, savored the music of the river’s rushing currents, and heard again the laughs and spirited banter of kids being kids, kids surrounded daily by a war they had nothing at all to do with, a war that seemed as senseless then as it does now. We lost several of those kids some months later, the result of mistaken identity. I think often of them and of the lives that could have been. Lives cut short by unconscionable stupidity and ineptitude. Read the news any day of the week and itis clear that not much has changed.
There is much about the past that I try to forget. But I will never forget the people of AnLuong.
They gave me far more than I ever could have given them.
Columns
Up On Hawthorn Hill: The past in the present
- Columns
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Passing along advice of seeing the humor
The best advice given to me many years ago when I started teaching had nothing to do with my discipline, English. Rather, a former mentor insisted on the necessity of having a sense of humor
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The week that was ...
For a number of years now, we have not been in Cooperstown for the spring season. And we must admit that we had quite forgotten what it is like. But since we decided that travel was not on the docket for this year, we have become reacquainted with the Cooperstown spring. And we must say we rather enjoyed it with the possible exception of occasional uncalled for snow and seemingly frigid temperatures.
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Local Voices From Around the Globe: Mother's visit was a benchmark for this year
Last week, my mother made the 25-hour plane trip out to Thailand to visit her son, me, after nine months of having only choppy Skype sessions and scattered emails to give her an idea of what I look and act like since having left home last August.
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Local Voices From Around the Globe: World traveler calls Euro-Tour experience of a lifetime
While I've had a great time throughout my entire exchange, I can say hands down that the month of April brought me the best memories of my exchange if not some of the best of my entire life. What kind of wonder would bring me to say this? Simple. Euro-Tour.
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Maryland port attacked
Havre de Grace, May 3. "This morning, a little after the break of day, a British armed force, under cover of armed vessels which anchored in front of this town ... landed below a small breast work which had been roughly thrown up, and in which were one 9 and two 4 pounders, manned by 50 militia.
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Memoir reflects on 'roller-coaster life and career'
Apparently, the third time wasn't the charm. The way Reynolds described him, the third husband was worse than the first two combined and that's saying a lot. Eddie Fisher literally walked away from Reynolds and their two infant children to chase a sex goddess. At least he got his just desserts when Elizabeth Taylor tossed him aside for Richard Burton.
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Imagine what might have been ...
A while back we got a telephone call from a reader of this column wanting to know why we had not written a column in support of Otsego Manor continuing to be owned and operated by Otsego County. And even though we have followed the debate over this issue in the newspaper, we readily admitted we did not feel we knew enough about the situation to take a stand.
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Herpes virus brings harness racing to a halt
I've been going to harness horse race tracks my entire life. My family has been in the business for years.
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Time, if not traffic, moves on ...
It is with sadness we note the passing of two people who we have known since moving to Cooperstown in 1982.
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Canadian capital captured
Dear Sir, I have just returned from Fort Niagara, where I saw a Captain of the United States' navy. He is just from little York, the capital of Upper Canada, and gives the following account, which is confirmed in official dispatches from Gen. Dearborn to Gen. Lewis ...
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Local Voices From Around The Globe: Exchange is like a life in a year
All exchange students realize the credibility of this statement. Like all lives no exchange is the same, all are incredible unique exchanges. The metaphor of life, from baby to old age, extends to every part of the exchange.
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Movie depicting legendary Jackie Robinson does not disappoint
Going to the movies is not something I do often. I can count the number of times I have gone on my fingers, unless you include trips to the drive-in. And even so, it took me years before I made it to one of those -- going for the first time two summers ago.
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'Dubious' about weather, Hawkeyes 'suitable' nickname
Unfortunately, it seems to us that this spring has, thus far, been anything but spring like. In fact, we are still more than happy to stay bundled up in our polar fleece.
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'Who's on Worst?' reveals the ugly in baseball
The Baseball Hall of Fame celebrates the greatest players, managers and owners from our national pastime. Any of us who have watched Major League baseball have inevitably seen some of these immortals practicing their craft. But we have also likely witnessed a sample of their opposite brethren, players who shouldn't have been in the Major Leagues. Has there ever been a definitive source that "celebrates" the non-accomplishments of the worst that Major League baseball has to offer?
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Swallow talk and bluebird vigilance
I assume the swallows have returned to Capistrano. They have returned to Hawthorn Hill as well.
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Local Voices From Around the Globe: Life in Hungry has taken a turn for the better
I can truthfully say spring has finally arrived in Hungary. It's almost time to wear shorts and sandals, for summer will be just around the corner. This brings me great happiness and great sadness, my adventure is coming to a close. Really what a time it was, I don't think I can compare it to anything else.
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The importance of speaking up ...
Over the years we have come to understand that, in writing a weekly column, it is not possible to always please everyone. And such was the case with our column that ran at the end of March in which we wrote about our experience as in inpatient following a total hip replacement.
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Public schools created
The Common School Act of 1812 marked the start of New York's public school system. Much of the credit for this was due to the radical Otsego County politician Jedediah Peck (1747-1821). To quote the NY Education Department:
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Book takes readers on path for equal rights
One of the most troubling aspects of our history is race relations. It takes a long time to achieve true equality in a society when the heritage of one ethnic group is slavery and Jim Crow laws. Even today African Americans are more likely to be stereotyped as athletes than doctors, lawyers or entrepreneurs. The path to a "color-blind" nation is still a work in progress.
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Local Voices From Around the Globe: Experiencing India at every new turn
Come, sit down. Hold this and, wait ... ah, there you go. Obeying these commands, I found myself seated on the pavement, wearing a turban and attempting to make sounds out of a recorder-like instrument for the black cobras in the baskets not two feet away from me.
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Passing along advice of seeing the humor
