Seeing all of Kona’s belongings is a constant reminder of how much we miss her and how much she was part of our family. There is an empty space in our heart and in our home. What do we do with everything and where do we start? Kona still had a 30 pound bag of Iams dog food, tons of doggie bones, some medicine (she had a bout of diarrhea about a month ago) and flea treatment left over. I remember when we adopted Kona at the Los Angeles Humane Society, she was only six months old and was very sick. She had worms in her tummy, tons of fleas, and was really weak. We fell in love with Kona right away when we saw her in her kennel. Not only did she look like a baby bear, she was the only dog that didn’t bark or try to attack us when we entered the room.
We figured, since we adopted Kona at the Humane Society, it seemed right to donate her belongings there. We called the Oregon Humane Society and they stated that they would gladly accept our items. It was beautiful inside the Humane Society. I’ve never seen such a neat facility…not that I frequent different Humane Societies around the country… I was so impressed how bright, colorful, big, organized and clean it was. And, as a mother, I am always making sure that places we go to are child-friendly, and it certainly was.
While there, we were curious about what kind of dogs they had, but we decided against “looking.” We’re not there yet, and how can you go to a pound and just “look?” It’s like going to McDonald’s and not getting their fries! Anyway, I would feel so bad and would want to adopt them all! Unless a stray finds us, we’ll wait to adopt another dog when the kids get a little older.
Last week, I had a conference in Los Angeles and decided that it would be so much more fun if the family went with me as well. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling for work lately, and anyone who goes on business trips knows that it can be very lonely going without your family. We used to live in Los Angeles and I thought this would be a great opportunity to visit our friends and return to our old stomping grounds.
We left our dog, Kona, last Wednesday, with my parents in Seattle and flew out of the Seattle Sea-Tac Airport. On Thursday, the day after, we got a call from our neighbor saying that Kona was hit by a car. Somehow Kona squeezed her way out of the backyard gate. A few hours later, we received a call from the vet who told us that Kona suffered multiple fractures and a punctured lung. Our jaws and hearts dropped. We were shocked and numb. The doctor said that Kona was breathing on her own but her breath was shallow and of course, she was experiencing a tremendous amount of pain. The next day, the vet called us back again to let us know that Kona made it through the night but that after close examination, Kona suffered more injuries than initially presented. As a result, the only option we had was to put our Kona down. Devastated by the news, I thought that we should leave my work conference and all fly back to Seattle to say our “goodbyes” to Kona. So many thoughts were running through our heads. Do we purchase 3 new tickets to head back to Seattle? Forgo our hotel and car rental agreement? Miss the conference? Cancel all of our plans to see old friends? What happens if we fly back to Seattle and Kona has already passed away? Do we continue to put Kona through several more hours of pain and suffering just because we want to say our goodbyes to her? The vet did say that if we agreed to have her put down, they would do it immediately. In the end, we called our vet and as difficult and painful it was to say it, we did, “Yes, please take Kona’s pain away and put her down.”
It’s funny how much you can love a pet. Those of you who have met our dog, know that she was the sweetest, most loving, loyal, and gentle dog ever! She was the best dog any family could have and she was like our family member. Jason and I use to joke and say that Kona was our first child or that Kona was our easy child. I remember bringing Miles home from the hospital and our friends who came over to visit Miles, Kona would immediately step in front of Miles and myself. Almost as if she was protecting us from these strangers who were coming by all the time to visit her little brother. There were several other times when Kona would “herd” (we think she was part Collie) Miles and Lila away from the street. Again, almost as if she was making sure that her brother and sister stayed safe.
A couple of people have asked us if we will adopt another dog. We just say, “No, not now. It’s too soon.” How can we possibly replace Kona this soon? Miles is 2 1/2 years old and we have told him what has happened. He doesn’t quite understand the meaning of death, and probably thinks that Kona is going to run in from the back yard soon (I wish!).
We are devastated and saddened by our sudden loss. Kona was only 5 1/2 years old, but we had plans for her to live for at least 15 years! She will be greatly missed. We hope that she is having tons of doggie treats and long walks in heaven. We love you and will miss you greatly Miss Kona bear!
Miles, Lila and I stepped outside this afternoon to water the flowers and our vegetable garden. I starting feeling this sting on my ankle. At first I thought it was an annoying rose thorn sticking in my socks. I looked down to pull out the thorn, but I find two bees attacking my left ankle. I scream and panick trying to kick the bees off my ankle. A third bee is swarming around my head. I look over at my children and Lila is rubbing her lips and screaming. Instantaneously, I realize what is happening and my heart sinks. Everything is happening in slow motion and I feel like my body is moving like molasses. Maternal instinct kicks in and I rush over to the kids and litterally throw both Lila and Miles in the house and sceam for Jason, “HONEY, WE JUST GOT STUNG BY A BEE” Luckily, Miles didn’t get stung.
We gave Lila some Infant Tylenol to relieve the pain. Her lips puffed up so huge. It looked like she had a botox job. As for me, my ankle looks like a “cankle”- you know, a cross between an ankle and a calf. If my ankle aches and is throbbing of pain, I can only imagine what Lila’s lips are feeling like now. Poor Miss Lila. This photo was taken just a couple of hours after the sting. The swelling has gone down significantly, but still a little puffy. She has been a trooper! Her parents and big brother has been showering her with lots of attention, cuddles and kisses.
Many of you know that my family escaped to the United States approximately 34 years ago from Vietnam during the fall of Saigon. My father was a pilot during the war and he flew for the South Vietnamese army. When I was a child, I heard many war stories from my mother and father. The stories seemed almost Hollywood-like, tons of explosion, chaos, and pandemonium. When my family finally arrived to the U.S. it was my parent’s goal to become United States citizens. “We are proud to be American and we should exercise the right to vote! ” My parents would proudly say. Clearly, becoming a US citizen was a big deal given that my parents had never had the opportunity to vote or to voice their opinion about their government growing up in a communist country. I remember my father always saying, “We are lucky that we are able to complain about our government!”
Recently, two men named Jan Herman (a historian for the Navy Medical Department) and Captain Paul H. Jacobs (a USN Retired Commanding Officer USS KIRK FF1087 {74-76}) went on a Vietnamese television news station in Washington D.C. to say that they were looking for a pilot that flew a CH47 to the USS KIRK FF1087 on April 29th, 1975. Apparently, this pilot hovered over the USS KIRK FF 1087 and dropped off approximately 60 Vietnamese on this vessel. The pilot was not able to land his Chinook helicopter on this vessel because it was too large. As a result, this pilot had to fly out into the Pacific, steer his helicopter so that it would be ditched into the sea, and jump out of the helicopter, seconds before it would crash into the Pacific. 34 years later, Mr. Herman and Mr. Jacobs are looking for this pilot so they can complete their documentary film called, “The Lucky Few” and also to honor him for his heroism and courage.
Despite the hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese who immigrated to the US during the fall of Saigon, the Vietnamese community is very small and we all seem to know each other. Long story short, the pilot that Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Herman is looking for, is my father.
Looking at these photos that Mr. Herman and Mr. Jacobs have shared with my family recently has been incredibly moving. I can’t believe how brave and heroic my father was during this time. I am so proud of my father’s work in saving so many lives and I think to myself, he must have had to make such quick but careful decisions during this time of turmoil.
This is a picture of the USS KIRK FF1087 on April 29th, 1975
Here is my father in his CH47 flying towards the vessel. The men on deck are signaling to let him know that he cannot land.
In this photo below, my father has turned the helicopter to its side to crash into the water. By this time, my father has already jumped out into the Pacific.
Navy men came out in a boat to get my father out of the water. My father is the man in the white t-shirt sitting in the middle of the boat.
Here is a piece that was written in the USS KIRK FF1087newsletter:
My oldest brother, Miki, who was 6 years old at the time, recounts his story now as an adult:
As a 6 year old, I remember that day very well. Our immediate family was stationed in Bien Hoa, where I grew up playing around in the barracks. The days leading up to the 29th was very chaotic in Saigon however my dad instructed us to be with our grandparents in Saigon. I recall heavy shelling and missiles flying in the city at night time. The morning of the 29th, we heard the unmistakable sound from a Chinook approaching grandma’s house. We all ran out of the house to find that my dad was about to land this huge Chinook in the small front field. Pop-open the door and we find one of his crewmen frantically waving us to come on board. Quickly my mother grabbed my younger brother (then 3) and sister (then only 12 months old) and I ran to get on the Chinook and fly off. He noted that at this time, it was very much like a western movie where you had your horse (chopper) and you just ride as quick as you could. He went back to get whatever rations he could find (gas, water, food…) and picked up a few more of his crewmen, noting that maybe they could fly to a remote island or some other safer location to buy time – at this moment simply survival mode. Off went the Chinook with close to 20 members on board.
As he flew out, he said he heard on the radio that there was an American ship out in the pacific. Loosely translated, he said “what the heck, let’s give it a shot”. Upon flying out he spotted an American naval ship in the distance, and tried to approach it in a non-threatening way, if at all possible. He said he circled the ship a few times to indicate he needed assistance and saw the crew below pointing guns at him and could only interpret that he was to not land on board. He noted that the seas that day was rough and windy and he had a challenging time trying to steady the Chinook for “personnel drop-off”. He re-counts that he was very cautious about staying away from any radar or antenna from the ship as hitting those would do more harm than anything else to the ship from a communications standpoint. As the door opened up, a few of the crew members jumped out, and shortly thereafter my mother grabbed my sister and nearly forgot my little brother who was sleeping on the floor and immediately sent them down to helping hands below. My dad told his co-pilot to do one more check and afterward hopped out.
He preceded to fly out to a safe distance and began to quickly rip his flak jacket off, side arm and got down to his undershirt and boxers. As he kicked the left door open, from here onwards you saw the rest. He noted however that it was very difficult for him to dive because of the salt water buoyancy – he said it took him 3 attempts to actually dive into the water to get away from the blades. At that moment, all he could hope for was someone to come and get him – shortly thereafter, his prayers were answered as a small boat came to his rescue.
Miki Nguyen
This story gives me profound respect and appreciation for what my parents (and other families caught in this awful war) went through to bring our family safely to the United States.
