The Story of Trees: Exercise One
But here's what Thông didn't do. He didn't thrust the mangoes into his pockets (on the side of his shorts, which were brown). He didn't climb down and exit the garden of old mister Lưu.
Excerpt. Whadda ya think? Memoir? Possibly. Family story? Definitely. Back and forth: yes. Time consciousness stream – oh yea. There will be: thrashings and sea voyages, crashings and metaphorical journeys. Wars and bombs and 80s cartoons and even appearances of a well known cast of characters. I thought of this today – I started it today.. and wanted to share. I have to say, I've been unduly influenced (like knocked in the head) by reading Rushdie's Midnight Children.. stream of consciousness is not back in vogue with me.. as are themes of family and discovery -- I've gone away from them in recent years. Ah well. Take the bad and good...
Generational memoir – how trite, but I think it'll be interesting to me, for my family and well, we'll see how it turns out. (Although I'm notorious for not finishing things.. )
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
You don't like my point of view but it's ok
Here's how it started: a scribble crashed into a zero, then a zygote became.. nine months and some days (I was not told how many) later... no that's not it. Earlier. Earlier. Let's go back. To the very beginning. Back back back -- not that far back.. there. That's it. Here it is.
You can say that I've led a pretty charmed life. All that business about crimes in the halves of night and pirates amidst the sea and laser-eyes during the most.important.event. of my life -- well, those are minor blips in an otherwise uneventful -- and dare I say -- plain life.
I suppose it began when my dad wanted mangoes. Not just any mangoes, however; certainly not the ones he had to buy at the market by the shore...
Have you ever glanced down and watched the carbonation fizzing up from your Coca-Cola cup? (If I offend any Pepsi drinkers, I apologize.) I mean, should we be putting stuff that bubbles and pops inside our – mind you – very sensitive stomaches, a veritable mind-boggling machine that nourishes and feeds and makes us tick? They scare me. Those bubbles.
All right, then, to dad. Dad – back then (he hadn't transformed yet) – was named Thông, which means "pine tree" in Vietnamese. Dad could taste the rich-gold-oomf sugars of the mangoes on his lips and tip of his tongue... and well, his resolve already steeled a long time ago (longer than I can verify), he now went for it. You see, Thông didn't want to pay for the right to satiate his tastebuds. Why pay (and walk all that way to the beach) when he could simply leap with his strong tree-like legs over the stone fence, scamper up the elephantine trunk, and (without getting caught, of course) gently relieve a few mangoes from their tedious lives, hanging around like so...
Ah, but even geniuses forget details.
Dad-Thông-mango lover-pine tree jumped successfully over the sentried stones with just a scrape on his shins. He bounced over to the roots, and stealthy-like, like a 'thief in the night' as his dad used to quote, he scaled up the snout, using fingers-arms-toes-knees. And yes, finally, he did relieve a few mangoes from the grips of jealous and wholly stingy branches, fluttering leaves amok in their impotent anger...
But here's what Thông didn't do. He didn't thrust the mangoes into his pockets (on the side of his shorts, which were brown). He didn't climb down and exit the garden of old mister Lưu. And he didn't listen to his brain – which had suggested politely that perhaps discretion would be a decent idea...
"Dagum!" said Dad-mango-lover. (I'm attempting to transmogrify Vietnamese slang from the 1940s into modern English, and the best I can do, I'm afraid, is American slang from the 1950s... apologies, but this is my best, feeble attempt or not.) What he thought was: I can't believe no one saw me! What's a few mangoes to old Lưu anyways?
And then he muttered, "Hmmm..." By that, he meant: Well, if I climb down now, what if someone, or worse -- Ma (!) saw me with these mangoes. I'll be in a stew, won't I?
You see, Thông didn't hear his meek brain yelping. He listened to his watering mouth instead – and of course, his mouth was always in cahoots with his under-nourished scrawny body – all deflation from stickarmslegs and curved chest. His brain, that brilliant brain, of course told him to never neglect the golden rule in decision making: that is, to avoid the gravest consequences when you can... but Dad, of course, will bound to ignore his brain in the most unfortunate of circumstances... but I'm digressing again...
But what then! Then it happened.
i like it dude. but now that you have shared a little piece i need to know what happens next!!!! get to it boy!!!
Posted by: vinny | September 29, 2006 at 04:01 PM