July 4th, 2010 :

Today is the 4th of July – my favorite holiday of all time. Like the rest of you Americans, I revel in celebrating our Independence, basking in the glory that is the United States and am filled with a gratefulness for this beautiful country and thank whole-heartedly the men and women who serve and protect both in the past and present to preserve our freedom.

But the 4th of July is also another type of celebration – a day that allows me to revel in something that means – well, everything to me.

Just two months ago, my parents celebrated their 35th anniversary of being in the United States. In 1975, both my parents immigrated to this great nation in search of freedom and a better life. My parents came over during the Vietnam War, running from the grasp of communism and a rampant war that tore about their country, homes, and family.

My mom was raised in a large family in North Vietnam with a lot of brothers and sisters – in fact more brothers and sisters than her parents could handle. So my mom was sent with her Aunt and Uncle to raise her. During the war, much of her family was separated and discombobulated, so my mom had to seek out on her own, and eventually sought refuge in the United States.

The US at the time were shipping Vietnamese natives out of the country, the only requirement was that you had to have a birth certificate or any paperwork to document your existence. My mom, since being separated from her family, had no documentation. As she stood at the gates waiting for the planes that were taking Vietnamese out of the country, on last call a kind woman and her family that needed help with their children gave my mom a birth certificate for one of the sisters that didn’t show up, and my mom became their nanny for the journey to America.

My dad, born and raised in South Vietnam near Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City, although 100% Vietnamese, enlisted as a US Marine to fight against communism and what he believed was the greater good for his country. As the story has been told to me, my dad was fighting with a brigade on the beach when their superior told them “swim or die” – in which, my dad swam – and swam, swam, swam, and eventually was picked up by the US Navy near the Philippines and brought here to the US.

Both my parents ended up in the refugee camp at Camp Pendelton, California where they met in fell in love. Both my parents were “adopted” and sponsored  – my mom ended up in San Antonio, TX with my wonderful grandparents Carl & Yolanda Urbano, and my dad ended up in a small, farming community in Eastern Washington called Colton thanks to 7 families, namely my grandparents Gene & Shirley Schultheis and the Catholic Church. After my parents got married they permanently moved here to Colton where my three older brothers and I were raised and my parents currently still live.

27 years after my parents left Vietnam, my mom finally found her family. She traveled back to Vietnam to reunite with them and one of the eeriest things  she witnessed was seeing her tombstone as her family thought she was dead. What’s crazy is in Vietnam, they do not keep very accurate records of paperwork. Your birthday, then, is quite arbitrary as we all celebrate our birthday on New Years. So your family is really the only ones that know your birthday. When my mom went back to Vietnam, she found her real birthdate on the tombstone – November 20th, 1958 – coincidentally enough, the same day, month and year that matched the birth certificate that was given to her by a kind woman to come to the United States.

This week on the eve of the 4th of July, my mom somehow catching up with the times, learned how to use facebook – and after 35 years of searching, my mom found the family of the woman who gave her the birth certificate that changed her life. She said she called the family, they connected, caught up, cried many tears of joy, but best of all – got to finally put an end to something she’s been searching for since she got here – closure.

My parents came to America with no knowledge of this country – they didn’t know anything about the culture, the language, the people – but in search of a better life, my parents came to the United States with nothing but the clothes they were wearing. Since coming to the US 35 years ago, my parents became citizens of the United States, bought a house and put 4 kids through college – thanks to the help of a wonderful and loving community and a family that chose us. They have worked hard, and loved harder – to have the lives they’ve always been dreaming of – all thanks to this great nation and the people in it.

My parents are incredible people, and if you’re reading this mom and dad – I am so proud to be your daughter, to be a part of this family, and to learn from your example – to live from your example. Happy 4th of July to my whole family, I am so grateful for you and for this great country.

4th of July is my favorite holiday – not just to celebrate the Independence of this great nation, but to celebrate what this great nation gave to my family – freedom – and the best life we could’ve ever imagined.