You Do WHAT For Aches?!?!

Bronchitis decided to visit last week, thus no 2/24 post. 😦 As much as it sucked, it did give me the inspiration for this post.

SO many people here in Jersey cannot wait for the first day of Spring, which will be March 20th. In the meantime, we have to deal with the annoyances of nippy weather, aches, colds and flu.

I’ve been married to my Husband, Steve, for 7 years, but we’ve been together for 13-years. However, the first time I got a cold and broke out my family remedy, he looked at me like I had three heads and exclaimed: “You do WHAT?!?!”

I was in Color Guard during all 4 years of high school. We would perform in pretty darn cold weather, mostly during football games and marching band competitions. Clad in nothing but a leotard and tights, for the four years I participated in “Guard,” my Mom warned me that cold would get trapped in my body and I would pay for it when I got older. I had no idea what she was talking about. Guard was something that I loved to do and I was really good at it, but I was NOT going to give it up. Of course, all these years later, she might have been right.

My Mom never understood why Westerners would rush to pop a pill or run to the doctor at the slightest ailment. She said in Vietnam, you would only pay the doctor when you were well. If you were sick, you weren’t charged. Doctors are good for emergencies, but in the end, we are each responsible for our own well being. Anything not found in nature can truly affect one’s health in the long run.

Think about it. There are commercials that run everyday for the latest and greatest drug, which has a TON of adverse side effects. Hubby and I would look at each other like, “Seriously?” You would see either cutesy animation, people frolicking in nature or a wholesome family scene, with a speaker in the background listing all the horrible things that can happen by taking said drug. Death is NOT a side effect that I want to experience, thank you very much.

When my Mom was a youngin, she used to run 5 miles a day on the beach, ate freshly picked fruits and vegetables and had access to fresh fish, meats and poultry. She was never sick and was in excellent health. When she came to the United States though, her health was never the same. No matter where we lived, she would always make sure she found an Asian market that would sell the food that she had grown up with. She would serve our family well balanced meals, with plenty of the good food that’s highly recommended to maintain good health, but she could only do so much. The air we breathed, the food we ate, the water we drank have all been affected over the years with pesticides, preservatives and chemicals. We’ve become a nation of sick and unhealthy people, couch potatoes addicted to junk food and sugary beverages.

To combat illness, my Mom taught me various methods of alternative healing. The major one we cannot live without we call “Spooning”.

NO, it has NOTHING to do with sex.

Whenever you would feel achy or just don’t feel well, you would basically take the edge of metal soup spoon, slap some Vick’s Vaporub, medicated oil or balm on the affected area and scrape in long strokes until that area was red. You would then move onto the surrounding areas until EVERYTHING came out red. The redder the area, the more the “cold” would be released.

I had found an article on the practice a few years ago when my co-workers were asking me about why I had these strange markings on my neck or arms. The writer had referenced it as coining, where the edge of a coin was used instead of a soup spoon. In Vietnamese, the term was cạo gió or to scrape wind. In the end, it looks like someone beat the heck outta you.

In my search of that article, I came across references about trainings to medical professionals regarding cultural methods of medicine.  After the Vietnam War, many Vietnamese had migrated to the United States.  Since most Americans were not familiar with coining, there were cases where parents were arrested when children were seen with these red markings. To prevent accusations of abuse, explanations and photos of coining were shown.

Depending on the severity of the cold or ache, you would sometimes need to spoon/coin an area multiple times. The markings would fade in a few days to a week. There were times over the years that my Mom was very sick and she had me do this on her back, neck and arms. I thought that I was hurting her, but she would feel so much better afterwards that I had her do this to me when I wasn’t feeling well.

The only way that I can describe the relief is to imagine a tight muscle like a clenched fist. After spooning, the muscle would relax. Sometimes I would ache in the area of my lungs and my Mom would spoon one side of my back near that region. When she was finished, I could breathe better on that side; it was like my lung had opened up. I felt lopsided until she spooned the other side. Until the other side was complete it felt like my other lung wasn’t “open.” After my “treatment,” I would usually feel sleepy enough that I needed to take a nap. It seems as though it gave my body a chance to heal itself.

It’s hard to explain this method to folks of non-Asian descent, but many Asians will tell you how much it helps. You can imagine the shock on my Hubby’s face after he saw how red parts of my body would become following a “”Spooning.” There were times where I couldn’t reach the middle of my back that needed his help. He reluctantly did after much objection. He was so afraid of hurting me that the spoon stroke pressure was too light for me. I would have to chide him into applying more pressure.

A skeptic through and through, he doubted the validity of such a practice. However, there was an instance where he had a pain in his lower back that wouldn’t go away. I offered to help and assured him that I would be as gentle as I could. For people that are not used to this, you have to start out slowly, getting a feel for the person’s pain threshold. Then you would slowly apply more pressure until the skin would turn red. After I was finished, he felt relief and thanked me. Though he still doesn’t like that I do this to myself, he does respect my reasoning as to why I do.

I personally don’t know why this works, but it works for me.

Until next time, just look straight ahead and keep going.

I HATE YOU AND YOUR STUPID LANGUAGE!

The writer Victoria Holt famously said, “Never regret. If it’s good, it’s wonderful.  If it’s bad, it’s experience.”  Sorry, but I have to disagree with you.  There is only one thing that I truly regret in my life and it’s an experience that I wish I could take back.

I had mentioned in my first post that English was the only language that I speak.  Being a Mother now, I wanted to learn everything I could about what I was like as a “youngin.”  My Mom told me years ago that when I was a baby, she taught me some basic Vietnamese and I was very good at speaking it.  I can’t remember that far back, but she said how cute it was to hear this little girl voice, speaking back to her in her native tongue.  It was a special connection between us that was profound and indescribable.

My Mom was born in South Vietnam in 1952, the Year of the Dragon.  There are A LOT of Dragons in my family, but that will be another post for another day.  She was one of nine children.  The Vietnam War, or Chiến tranh Việt Nam, didn’t begin until November 1, 1955.  When my Mom was in high school, there were classes that taught English, but she said there was no need for her to learn, she lived in Vietnam.  Why would she need to learn English?  Little did she know, at that time, it would have been a good idea to take those classes.

My Dad was born in Nebraska in 1947, the Year of the Boar.  He was one of four children.  Wanting to have some adventure in his life, he joined the Navy in 1966.  After serving honorably for 4 years, he was discharged as an E-5 Second Class Petty Officer in 1970.  He was a Maintenance Mechanic that maintained fighter jets, as well as Huey helicopters.  Those skills led him to be contracted by Northrop Grumman, where he would travel to Vietnam in 1971 to instruct the South Vietnamese how to do the same.  Little did he know, at the time, that fate would lead him to his future wife.

Like something out of a movie script, my Mom worked as a hostess in a restaurant owned by her Aunt.  In the early half of 1972 my Dad descended upon that eatery for a little chow and became enamored with a beautiful local girl who worked there – my Mom.  After that first night, he continued to eat there every night for a week until he got her attention.  He eventually did, and he ended up falling in love with that beautiful girl “with hair so long that she had to pull to one side in order to sit.”

They were married in 1974.

When my Mom came to the United States she brought both of her sisters – Mimi and Tuyet.

Ultimately, the three went their separate ways; my Aunt Mimi to New Jersey, my Aunt Tuyet to California and my parents to Colorado, where my Dad’s family resided.  It was difficult for my Mom, not knowing English and having her sisters live so far away, but the hardest part was meeting my Dad’s relatives.  The war was over, but the residual feelings still lingered for many people, those for and against the war.  Never truly accepting her as part of the family, my Mom was a constant reminder of the war.

She told me that the only family member who was kind to her was my Dad’s Grandmother.  Grandma Cora would sneak gifts for my parent’s new abode in Empire, CO when no one was looking.  When she passed, my Mom only had my Dad for support.  They made the best of what they had and lived their lives.  Then I came along. 😉 I wasn’t planned, but they were both happy they had another chance for a family after losing my older sister to diphtheria years earlier.

When I was old enough to start kindergarten, my Mom warned me not to speak Vietnamese around the other kids.  I had no idea that they wouldn’t understand me.  After all, didn’t everyone have a family like mine?

Well, of course, I didn’t listen to her and was made fun of for the weird sounds that I was uttering.  After that first traumatic day, I returned home and exclaimed: “I hate you, I hate your stupid language and I’m never speaking it again!”

For whatever reason, I never asked my Mom how she felt when I said that.  Probably not very good, but since that day, I never again spoke another word of Vietnamese.

I had no idea, at the time, that I would be missing out on so much.  In 1981, we moved from Colorado to California where my Aunt Tuyet lived.  We lived in California for a short time and then back to Colorado we went.  Eventually we moved to New Jersey in 1982 where my Aunt Mimi lived.

Once in Jersey, I connected for the first time with my cousin, Susi, my Aunt Mimi’s daughter.  She didn’t know how to speak Vietnamese either, so at least I wasn’t alone in that regard.

However, when the three sisters would get together, it was like Little Vietnam.  We would watch in wonder, at the speed of their diction, speculating on what they were saying about us.  They would talk, look as us and then talk some more.  It drove us nuts!

It was during those times that I most longed to regain what I’d lost in those early years.  A part of me secretly wished I would have ignored the jeers and continued learning my native tongue, at the time.

Flash forward to now.  I still can’t speak Vietnamese, but one of my goals this year is to learn.   I want to be able to pass down to my son a special part of his heritage, but to also reconnect with my Mom in a whole new way.  Rosetta Stone, don’t let me down!


HAPPY NEW YEAR BLOGGING WORLD!

After thinking about doing this for the longest, I decided that today would finally be the day I post my first blog entry.  In fact, I thought that it would be more than appropriate to post this, my premier blog entry, on the day of Vietnamese Tết or Chinese New Year – The Year of the Snake.

Here is my back-story.  I am part Vietnamese and Chinese from my Mom’s side, as well as a BUNCH of other European nationalities from my Dad’s side (the breakdown reads like the ingredients for your typical American stew – French, English, German, Dutch, Scottish, Welsh, Irish – whew!).  I was born in 1976, which was the Year of the Dragon.  Always proud of my cultural diversity, I often educated others on the various customs and beliefs that my Mom still carries to this day.  She immigrated to the US from Vietnam back in 1975 after the American Embassy in the former Saigon fell.  I learned so much from both of my parents and I am SO grateful that they are still here to share their experiences about the wacky world of parenthood.

My Husband, who is African-American, has furthered our family’s diversity, not only for myself, but for that of my son, Bryce.  We’d never thought that we would be able to have kids, since Hubby is 12 years older than me and we didn’t begin trying for children until I was the ripe old age of 35.  However, God had other plans and our Lil’ Boopa is 10 months old as of this entry.

Our country has become so diverse that I wonder when he grows up, which box my Bryce will check when he gets to the question about “race.”  I normally check the box, “Asian-American,” unless they give me the option to check more than one, to which I would also include: “Caucasian.”  I want him to know how cool it is to have such richness of culture coursing though his veins and I hope that he’s as proud of his lineage as I am of mine.

I wanted to share my memories, thoughts and feelings about living in a multicultural family.  I also wanted to shed some light into who I am as a Person, Woman, Wife and Mom – thus, the creation of this blog.  Though I may hold onto old customs and traditional ways of thinking, I am open to new ideas, traditions and beliefs.  THIS Dragon wants to experience all there is in life and I hope you will come with me for the ride.

Below is a link to some fun facts about the Lunar New Year, as well as how to pronounce:  “Happy New Year!” in both Vietnamese and Chinese.  🙂  BTW, I will explain this at another time, but English is the only language that I speak. 😦 I look to change that in the coming year. 

Thank you for taking the time to read my post and I look forward to your feedback.

Until next time, as my Mom always tells me, “Just look straight ahead and keep going.”.

12 Traditions of the Lunar New Year

Chúc mừng năm má»›i (Vietnamese) –

XÄ«n nián kuài lè (Chinese) –