KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

Someone at work asked me if my parents were strict growing up as Asian parents are known to be. It got me thinking. They were both the youngest of 10 children so by the time they were going through childhood their parents would have been less strict. Mum wasn't strict in most ways, but she was dead set on getting school educated.

Mum Pham was the book smart parent. She was studious and disciplined, and a qualified pharmacist (though the communists wouldn't give her a degree because she refused to serve in their army). Growing up all the pressure to study and go to university came from Mum. Dad Pham? Not so much for formal education. He once got in trouble with my Aunty when he suggested our cousin (her son) may be better off doing a trade. She was so outraged by the notion, she didn't talk to Dad for half a year.

I never really thought about why Dad Pham was so much more relaxed about education than Mum and most other Asian parents. That is, until one day, in one of his reflective moods he told me about how he failed forward into the navy.

At school, he ranked 130-something out of 134 for language. He gave so few shits, he didn't bother to remember exactly how low he scored. Now, Dad is not a dumbass by any means. He is actually more intelligent, calculating and strategic than Mum Pham in most ways. But he was too smart for formal education - because it was too easy for him, he got bored. Big Brother Pham would one day follow in Dad's footsteps - he was too smart for boring bookish study.

Dad joined the navy because he didn't have many other options. In the navy, with all the hands-on practical training and studies, Dad actually ranked 24, which was pretty high up there. His own life experience is why he's open to children doing trades or anything hands-on. Books aren't for everyone. Though, books turned out to be for me; they were definitely not for Big Brother Pham. Little Sissy Pham was somewhere in between - I think she'd have excelled at a sport if we could afford sport, but instead being poor forced her down the study route.

Even though I am a book nerd, I believe you should learn life your own way. Whatever suits your interests and skills is what you should pursue. Otherwise, you either won't be happy or won't excel in what you do... or both. 

Someone asked recently if Dad Pham was still by himself after it came out in conversation that Mum was no longer with us. Dad has remained single since her passing in 2011 and has no interest in finding another love or companion. He says Mum was a devoted wife. She took us to see Dad every evening on the bus when he was hospitalised numerous times throughout our childhood. She never complained when he sent all their money back to his family in Vietnam.

Mum Pham had a quiet strength that wasn't obvious if you didn't truly know her. She was always so loving and generous, she'd come across as a bit of a pushover to strangers she went out of her way to accommodate. But it takes strength to be that open and vulnerable and give to others, especially when times are tough or relationships soured - she never turned away anyone in need. If anything, she held them closer.

Mum Pham bestowed all three Phamlings with her quiet strength. I'm proud when people tell me I'm a quiet achiever. It's often given as critical feedback to be more assertive and vocal, because extroverts rule the world (and look where that's led us). I'll always prefer to be a good listener like Mum than a fancy wordsmith any day. 

Dad Pham had been in love withs someone else before he met Mum Pham.

On one of his reflective days, he told me a bit about her. They met at the US Culture Wellness Centre in Vietnam. He said she has a round face like Mum Pham, like me. That made me laugh. Boyfriend Pham has taken to calling me moon-face because in a moment of self-doubt, I wondered if he and I looked similar in anyway. I don't want to be one of those couples who look like siblings. He reminded me I am Vietnamese, and he is Australian. Also, the only thing we have in common is I have a big round face, and he has a small round face. We only have moon-faces in common. Phew.

Dad told me after the American war in Vietnam he had to flee and he asked his first love to come with him. But they weren't married so it was improper and she chose to stay with her family rather than flee. He loved her and would have married her if he'd stayed.

The two of them got in touch a number of years after Mum Pham passed. They started off with snail mail, then I was given an email address and started scanning Dad's handwritten letters and sending them. There was back and forth for a time while they caught up on each other's lives since the war. Eventually Dad does what his schizophrenia always does, and he moved onto the next phase and stopped writing. He didn't see the point since he would never go back to Vietnam, and she would never come to Australia.

Mum Pham used to speak of another woman Dad met while he was a refugee in Singapore. They parted ways because she left for America and Dad didn't want to go there. Instead, he went to Germany where he became an interpreter and met Mum Pham.

Not my feet, I have bad sock tan line and chubby legs. Stock photo from Frankie4 of a style I wear.

I have a tendency to ignore my ailments until they're kind of a big deal, like that time I used to wake up feeling tight in the legs and struggling to walk down the stairs every morning and then hurt my lower back when it could have been prevented if I'd just went to a physiotherapist and learned how to stretch out my hip flexor. Yeah, like that.

These days I'm trying to be less of a stiff upper lip, suck-it-up, tough-it-out type. When I noticed an ache in my left big toe joint and the beginnings of a bunion, I chose to not follow my dumb instincts to ignore the pain just in case it goes away on its own, and instead sought professional help. A podiatrist kitted me with custom orthotics and explained how my pigeon-toed left leg was putting massive pressure on the joint. Over time I'll get arthritis where the bone is grinding but if I wear the orthotics and do daily toe stretches it'll help delay the onset of arthritis.

Fun fact from the podiatrist: You inherit your walk from your parents! I must have inherited Mum Pham's walk because she had severe bunions. Looking back I wish I knew she was in pain, and could have had surgery to fix her feet, and we weren't broke and we could afford surgery - ah, wishful hindsight.

Obviously, I used my new orthotics as an excuse to cull my shoe collection of anything too narrow to fit orthotics. I gifted newish shoes to my local Buy Nothing community, and binned crappy old sneakers. Then Boyfriend Pham took me on a shopping spree because I was sad and shoeless. 

Boy-oh, shoes with arch support are expensive. He drove me to two Frankie4 stores to try on shoes that fit my orthotics. I purchased two pairs - each cost 2.5x what I'd normally pay for work brogues. I also got Birkenstock Arizona to wear around the house - they're only 20x the cost of a pair of cheap, plastic slides. Once I learned my orthotic shoe size is 39 instead of my previous 38, I also tried Bared Footwear online - they have stores in Melbourne, but not in Brisbane...yet. 

While I cringe at the $1500+ I dropped getting custom orthotics and new footwear because I'm a tight-arse, I am grateful to be in a position where I can afford healthcare, and supportive footwear. Things Mum Pham didn't get to have, but raised us kids to work hard so we had better options in life. Also, today is the anniversary of Mum's passing so that's probably why I keep thinking of her even though I'm writing about my feet, which look like Dad Pham's.

When I was a teen, Mum Pham took me to get my ears pierced at a pharmacy. They used one of those guns and my ears got terribly infected so I took out the earrings and let the holes close up. It's a shame - Mum was excited for me to wear these cute gold earrings she had from when she was little. I don't know where they are now. I guess she either pawned them or gave them away because I never saw them after that. When I was in my early 20s in Melbourne, I went to Off Ya Tree in the CBD and got my ears pierced with a needle. I bled for a couple of days but my ear holes eventually healed. It was so long ago, I can't remember whether I took forever to heal like I'm doing now.

15 years later, and those ear holes that used to be in the centre of my ear lobe now sat much further down than they did. I don't know whether ear cartilage keeps growing or if it's gravity playing its part (if anyone knows for sure, please shed some light because Dr. Google says it's both myth and fact that your ears and nose keep growing and I don't know what to believe). Either way, my ear lobes are bigger and longer and I didn't like how much empty lobe there was so I decided to get new ear holes.

I went to Unicorn Piercings at Toombul to get stabbed by an eccentric girl who used to work at Off Ya Tree (in Brisbane, not Melbourne). She distracted me with tales of her frozen dead pets and dreams of taxidermy and bone jewellery so I wasn't thinking about her poking holes in my body. I wish I'd thought to ask her if earlobes keep growing or if it's gravity dragging them down. Instead, I asked her why I bleed so much from my ear lobes because this time, again, I instantly started dripping blood. She theorised I had lots of capillaries in my earlobes because they're so "big and squishy."

It's been 6 weeks now and my ears still haven't completely healed. The bleeding stopped after a few weeks, but every now and then I still see a bit of blood in the puss or crusty mucus I clean off. I'm hoping my ear holes will finish healing in another month or so and I can start wearing the cute earrings I've started hoarding. And I hope they last me another 15 years before I feel the desire to poke two more holes in my lobes because they've gotten even longer. 

Pretty much every older Asian lady in my life wears a jade bracelet, and I’ve come to the realisation that I am now that older Asian lady to my nieces. I broke the cheap jade bracelet Mum Pham gave me a couple of years ago, and I was reluctant to wear the high quality bracelet I inherited from Mum because, well, I broke my last one. Mum’s one is dense and has flecks of black and a swirl of brown on a dominantly green and white band. It’s definitely in a different league to the one I used to wear when it comes to quality.

Towards the end of her time, Mum Pham had become weak and lost blood flow. She stopped wearing her jade bracelet because it was too heavy and cold. She started to carry it around in her money pouch. You know the money pouches that you’re encouraged to use overseas so pickpockets can’t get at your goods while you’re vulnerable in a foreign land? Mum wore that all the time and it was stashed with cash, jewellery, . I’m trying to picture when I first noticed and I think she started wearing it after we got robbed in Australia, and she lost family heirlooms and other valuables.

Anyhoo, back to the bracelet that spent a year or so following Mum around in her money pouch. After she passed away, it spent over 5 years in Mum’s make up / jewellery box that I’d inherited. I recently decided it’s silly not to wear Mum’s bracelet out of fear of breaking it. I’m sure Mum would rather I wear it so I remember her whenever I glimpse it or clang it on something, or whenever I fall asleep on it funny and my wrist aches the next morning, or whenever I hug Boyfriend Pham too tight and it jabs him, and I’m reminded he’s never met Mum but if he did she probably would jab him and tell him to eat more of whatever delicious feast she’s served up. It now lives on my right wrist just like it used to live on Mum’s. This photo is from 2004 on Big Brother Pham's birthday - seafood stir fry noodles with a side of chicken soup.

Mum Pham's side of the Phamly are mostly in Melbourne. Whenever I'm back in town, I try to visit my Aunty in Sunshine because it's a trip we did every Sunday with Mum and Dad Pham. Two buses, the 402 from Kensington to Footscray, then the 220 or 410 to Sunshine. Now that I'm all grown up, live comfortably above the poverty line, and have more confidence on the road than I should, I roll up in a fully insured rental car.

Back in the day, my Auntie's house was full. Another aunty and uncle lived there with their family of three. My cousins were in their 20s then and setting up their lives. Then on Sundays Uncle 10 and his family of three, and another cousin with his family of four. The Phamly feasts we have now are nothing on the triple table spread Aunty had in her kitchen.

Us kids would play in the backyard - roller skating, hopscotch, ball games; help pluck herbs in the giant herb garden; pick fruit from the fruit trees, or play tag running circles inside the house. Then whenever our piano teaching cousin had free time, he'd give each of Phamlings a piano lesson.

I never asked Mum Pham if she enjoyed living in Melbourne, but I imagine she would have even though that was when our Phamly struggled to stay above the poverty line. Mum lived for Phamly, she moved away for her own Phamly but she would have thrived being so close to her sisters and brother.

These days, everyone is grown up and spread out. Some have passed away. The big feasts are a thing of the past. Now are visits are quiet, civilised chats over a meal or three. Aunty catches us up on the last year or years of life in Melbourne, and we catch her up on Queensland relatives. Aunty always makes my favourite che dau trang (a sweet rice, black eyed peas and coconut dessert), and regrets that I am vegetarian. "Such a waste." Little Sissy Pham gets a delicious beef noodle salad. There's no such thing as a Phamly catch up without food.



If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

Pham is the fourth most common surname in the Vietnamese community (Nguyen is top at nearly 40%, then Tran & Le) so it wasn't a huge coincidence that our neighbours across the hall in the council flats were Phams. The Other Phams as they are known in our world were a Phamly with three boys and a girl, the youngest. We went to the same primary school and their Middle Brother was in the same year as Big Brother Pham. The younger two kids were closer in age to Little Sissy Pham and me. I don't have any photos with them - I guess none of us had cameras back then.

Big Brother Pham and Middle Brother Other Pham were the best of friends before we moved to Brisbane. I remembered they came over and played computer games a lot at our house, and we'd all play downstairs together. Big Brother Pham and Other Brothers Pham played basketball and cricket while the younger siblings played less coordinated games.

The Other Phams adored Mum Pham and Dad Pham. Middle Brother Other Pham told me that in a way my parents were more like parents to them than their own. Sadly for The Other Phams, their parents worked crazy hours and were always away. Unlike my parents who were on a pension and always home, so super attentive of us spoiled Pham siblings.

Often we'd come home from school or grocery shopping on weekends, and one or more of the kids would be sitting on the steps outside the landing to our respective flats because their parents weren't home, and they were locked out. Mum Pham would invite them to ours, and feed them snacks and if their parents weren't home in time dinner too. I still remember Little Brother Other Pham stuffing his face on chicken wings, home made hot chips, and tomato sauce like there was no tomorrow. Funny how random memories stick.

Life in Melbourne wouldn't have been the same without The Other Phams next door. In my hazy childhood memories, it didn't seem odd that they were always around because as kids you just accept that the world is the way it is. It wasn't until we reconnected years later that I learned how special this time in the flats was for them. I hope Mum Pham knew how much of a positive impact she had on The Other Pham siblings. She did a lot of good things for people without asking for thanks, and I still learn new ways to appreciate her to this day several years after she's passed. Thanks Mum for taking care of all Phams.


If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

When we moved to Melbourne we had only lived in Australia for about 6 months. I had been to pre-school in Brisbane but I have zero memory of this. My first memory of schooling is going to English classes in Footscray Primary. We had a rental house in Footscray that my brain associates with rodents and Dad Pham would walk me to and from English school.

I think the main reason I remember English school is because of my friend, Tuyen. She was a chatterbox and would chat to everyone including my Dad when he came to walk me home. She'd tell him what we learned that day, how I was doing in class and how the teacher let me get away with anything, even not answering questions or completing tasks. I don't remember being a slacker, but Tuyen didn't seem a liar so I must have been - that, or I didn't understand what was being asked.

Mum Pham's favourite memory from my school days in Footscray wasn't from English classes though, it was from Vietnamese class. One day after school, she asked what I learned and I replied (in Viet), 'Today I learned cows breastfeed calves, and calves breastfeed cows.' She nearly died laughing. I didn't get what was so funny at the time, but she repeated that story to me year after year after year until I finally got it because I learned about reproduction, anatomy and the circle of life.



If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I have been a bit emotional and teary this past fortnight. It is mostly hormones - the rational side of me knows this, but the irrational side of me feels or wants it to be something more because for the first time in two years I'm dreaming regularly of Mum Pham again. Every few nights she has been in my dreams and it's the best until I wake up and lose her all over again when I remember she is gone.

The dreams are always different but have one common theme - Mum is coming to visit. The first night she came to visit me in my new place and was sitting at the end of my bed and we spoke without speaking so even in the dream I knew it was a dream yet it felt real. She wasn't as old as she was when she passed - her face was smoother but she was in her favourite knit vest and dress. She was patting my legs under the doona and comforting me, telling me everything would be well.

The next dream she was coming to visit me at work with Dad Pham and they got lost on the trains, and I had to go looking for them. I had to wade through a crowd of people exiting the train station and I finally spotted them and started approaching. Dad was looking around for me but Mum saw me first - she pulled at Dad's arm to point me out and when she and I locked eyes and smiled, I woke up.

The best dream was hanging out in an almalgamation of Mum & Dad's Brisbane house and our Aunty's house in Melbourne. It was my favourite Mum dream because we were cooking and talking and eating and talking and just doing what we normally did together when she was still alive. I woke up from this dream feeling like she was still here.

Mum Pham passed on the 18/7 in the lunar calendar, which is 28/8 in this calendar year. I will burn incense for her with The Phamly and send up my prayers. I love and miss you, Mum. Always.

Dad Pham and Mum Pham spoke more English than most other immigrant parents I knew growing up. I wouldn't say they were good English speakers but they had enough language to get by until Big Brother Pham was old enough to be The Phamly's interface with the real world.

Both my parents are intelligent people but in different ways. Mum was book smart and studious - her languages she learned through education. Even into her later years, Mum used to come across English words she didn't understand and would look them up in a dictionary, then write notes about the word in a notebook. Then she'd learn the words by rewriting them into yet another notebook. I am the same. I remember things by writing them down. If I type them, I forget but something about writing the words on paper stows it into my memory.

Dad Pham - well, he hated to study and says Vietnamese teachers couldn't pronounce English words properly, let alone teach others. The giant Vietnamese-English dictionary he had was inaccurate and useless when he tried to point at definitions to help communicate with English speakers. Dad's real English skills came from working and/or living with Americans in Vietnam, and a slim English-Vietnamese dictionary he remembers one of them giving him.

I'm always amazed by people who know multiple languages. My parents both knew Vietnamese, English, German and Mum Pham knew some French and understood Chinese because it's half her heritage. Then I remember my trip to Europe where it was the norm that everyone knew at least 2-3 languages, and I am an unworldly Australian ignoramus who by birth inherited Vietnamese but otherwise would have no language skills other than English.

The first time we came to Brisbane from Germany, The Phamly didn't have the best run. We were renting a house on Wedgetail Street, around the corner from where Dad Pham and Big Brother Pham now live. I don't remember much of the time here - I was only 5 and the memories are flashes of scenery or moments that don't make sense because I'm missing context.

What I know is that something bad happened, and Mum Pham moved us away to Melbourne to be near her side of The Phamly after only 6 months in Brisbane. Mum and Dad never went into it when we were kids. But decades later, I'd learn it was because one of our relatives was a struggling heroin addict at the time and stole jewellery and cash from us for their habit. There was a big fight and Dad conceded to move The Phamly to Melbourne to be closer to Mum's side of the family.

I clearly remember one of the items that was stolen: Mum's jade bird necklace. It wasn't of much value compared to other heirlooms that were stolen but I loved that necklace. I used to play with it when Mum held me to her chest as a baby. It was of a bird in flight - similar to how children draw birds in the sky as two arched lines with curved tips. A plump version that was curved to a natural rock formation and polished with gold chain tassels on the tail. I've never been able to find anything close to the design. Maybe one day I will stumble across the original. It's somewhere in Brisbane still, I hope.

Since the initial robbery that made us up and move to Melbourne, my parents have helped bail this person out of other debts too. When I learned about everything that went down, my uni years suddenly made more sense. This relative used to visit us and would often sneak me a bit of cash for 'being a good girl.' I realise now they felt indebted to my parents and wanted to give something back once they were in a good place and could help.

Life would have been very different if we hadn't moved to Melbourne. But we did. And that's a story for next time.



If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I don't remember leaving Germany. I don't remember the flights to Singapore then Brisbane. But I do remember the very first time Brisbane's heavy, humidity hit me in my chubby little face because it felt like a clinically obese cat had pounced on my chest and I suddenly had trouble breathing when I stepped out of the plane. I stood there gasping in air until Dad Pham lead me down the steps onto the tarmac. After the initial shock, I was fine. Well, for now. We went inside and met Dad's eagerly waiting Phamly.

Dad Pham tells me they took us back to our new rental home on Wedgetail Street in Inala, around the corner from where Dad lives now. I don't remember the ride back from the airport though.

My next memory of Australia is crying alone on a sofa. I had been crying for a long time so the adults had left me alone because I was inconsolable and everything else they had tried only made me cry harder. Dad and Mum Pham don't know why I was crying so hard. I was only 4 years old and couldn't possibly understand what was going on. Maybe part of me knew everything was different now.

I remember my cousin came out to offer me a bag of peanut m&ms. I took them and ate them - still sobbing. I fell asleep on the couch exhausted hugging the bag of chocolates, and so began my love affair with my favourite, guilty pleasure comfort food. Peanut m&ms is how I cope with all life trauma now. Except for watching A Quiet Place. Boy-oh, did I regret bringing a loud snack into the cinema - oh how I longed to munch on them to cope with the stress of living the brilliant story, but I couldn't because the cinema was dead silent.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

Uncle 10 on mum's side moved to Melbourne, Australia from Germany before we did, and told Mum and Dad Pham that in Australia they have plenty of Vietnamese foods in comparison to Germany, which had next to none at the time. Our cousin benefited from this gap in the marketing, she opened up a highly successful Asian grocer in a small town in Germany. It's the only place you can get Asian food items in the area.

Mum and Dad were sold when they heard that Australia was warm enough to grow many of the herbs, fruits and vegetables from back home. They decided to migrate to Australia...because food. There was one catch. Mum's weight meant she didn't pass the medical requirements and Australia wouldn't accept their application because health concerns - they didn't want her to be a burden on the system. Boy oh, they didn't realise Dad Pham was a bigger concern there. More on that at a later date.

Mum Pham blames me for getting fat. When she was pregnant with me all she wanted to eat was pho. All that delicious soupy noodle made her bloated, and then getting pregnant again less than two months later with Little Sissy Pham didn't help. In order to apply to migrate to Australia, Mum needed to drop over 15kg. On a scale of stroll in the markets to fleeing a war torn country, losing weight was on the easier side.

She began by eating nothing but salads, and I vaguely remember making her laugh by laying down to do leg-ups with her. My fat baby gut must have looked hilarious trying to do core exercises. Mum Pham worked her ass off within weeks and went back to get her medical approved. In case you're wondering how this story ends, I'm sitting on a couch in Brisbane, Australia as I write feeling guilty that I can't lose and keep 5kg off to stay in a healthy weight range, while Mum Pham tortured herself with lettuce meals morning, noon and night to get fit enough to move her Phamly to the other side of the world.

I am always so grateful to her for all the things she did for us. I honour this by stuffing my face stupid on all the glorious Vietnamese foods in Inala where I take Dad Pham shopping every weekend. We cook mostly Vietnamese food for Phamly dinner too. Mum would be proud.




If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

I got sidetracked from my Dad Series because of our Phamly Reunion in Europe last September. Though, thanks to that trip I learned a bit more about my parents' life in Germany. The early years were tough because they had been all about settling in and learning their new country. The later years were tough because that’s when Dad Pham got sick.

Long Lost German Cousin told us of mum’s hardship. Mum Pham gave up trying to study to pharmacy. She’d graduated in Vietnam but her degree wasn’t valid in Germany, and also she had to learn the hardest and harshest sounding language I’ve ever heard to complete her studies in her new home. She did work for a short time at a pharmacy but it didn’t work out. Things were too much for her to manage since she had to take care of Dad who was in and out of hospital for schizophrenia nearly a dozen times during this period, and she was also caring for three young children in a country that was foreign to her, on next to no budget because poor refugees.

I look at the luxuries our Phamly can afford now - Big Brother Pham and Little Sissy Pham are homeowners, Dad Pham can afford takeout meals, I can afford to spend extra for more ethical items instead of all the no-name branded things we lived on as kids. I wish Mum Pham knew how well she’d set us up for life during her hardships to make the burden feel worth her while. The struggle she must have felt, wondering how she would get her family through the next days, weeks, and months - and not knowing whether this would be forever.


Cousin said she never wavered no matter the trials life threw at her. He remembers life was stressful for her, but she never let it impact others. Mum had the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, but it didn’t make her soft or maybe that’s where her strength came from; she needed to be strong to care for everyone. She was steadfast, and determined - admirable traits that she tried to pass onto me but, alas, I’m more stubborn and annoying. Close, but not quite.

Back in Germany, we walked the streets where Mum used to push two babies in a pram (Little Sissy Pham and me) while Big Brother Pham clung to her side. The locals pitied Mum, the poor Asian lady with three young kids. The whole time we were in our hometown, we only saw two other Asian people who weren’t our relatives. Back then, Asian people would have been so new and different and rare for the locals. One time, Mum told us Big Brother Pham strayed from her because he was always running off as a tiny tot but a German lady returned him to her, because she was so obviously the only person in the mall who could be related to a little Vietnamese boy.

Mum & Dad gloss over the trying parts of their lives with us kids, so I’m grateful our Long Lost German Cousin lived with them in Germany. He was old enough to remember the way things were. I have next to no memories of Germany, it is a blur to Big Brother Pham - we mostly only remember our childhoods in Australia. Which I will cover next in my Dad Series.



If you want to start from the beginning of Phamly history, read:
Part 1 - O Captain! My Captain! Dad Pham's navy days during the Vietnam War.
Part 2 - P.O.W. Viet Cong Re-education Camp Dad Pham's time as a prisoner of war.
Part 3 - Living with Viet Cong Mum Pham's experience with communism.
Part 4 - Boat People Dad Pham seeks refuge after the war.
Part 5 - Finding Faith Dad finds peace.
Part 6 - When Herr met Frau - Dad Pham meets Mum Pham.
Part 7 - Life in Germany: the early years - Dad Pham sets up life in Germany.
Part 8 - Life in Germany: the later years - Dad gets sick, Mum steps up.
Part 9 - Getting ready for Australia - Mum Pham is on a mission.
Part 10 - Coming to Australia - My first memories of Australia.
Part 11 - Live in Brisbane the first time - The story of why we left Brisbane.
Part 12 - Moving to Melbourne - First impressions.
Part 13 - Life in Melbourne - Dad Pham - The good old days.
Part 14 - The Other Phams - Our neighbours in Melbourne were Phams too.
Part 15 - Life in Melbourne - Mum Pham - Our Sunday Phamly traditions began in Melbourne.
Part 16 - Cats On A Train - Moving to Brisbane
Part 17 - Sleepwalking Scare - Moving to Brisbane continued
Part 18 - A House in Brisbane - Moving to Brisbane continued some more

Mum Pham and Dad Pham were the human manifestations of 'opposites attract.' When we visited both sides of our Phamly in Europe it was interesting to see that their opposing traits run on their respective bloodlines.

Dad has always been physically fit and active and capable. Mum was never into sports or fitness and her activity was gardening. I am a combo of the two. I try to be active like Dad, but I have the 'Mum gene' as we call it - making me quite uncoordinated and dopey at all physical activity. I can see why Mum wasn't into physical activities, the mum gene makes everything a potential health hazard. Little Sissy Pham is the opposite combo to me. She has Dad's physique and was good at sports as a kid, though now prefers to sit on the couch with her cat and laptop - like Mum used to do.

When we met with Mum's side of The Phamly, it was a lot of sitting down for meals and talking - Mum's favourite things. Then when Dad's side caught up with us, there was lots of outdoor activity and walking around tourist sites - Dad's favourite things.

Dad's side are all physically fit, and conversation got heated when they talked politics. I don't know about the German side, but back home there a family feuds and little spats that Dad tells me about every now and then. Mum's side were are placid and soft spoken, and conflict isn't thing - everyone gets along with everyone else.

It makes me wonder what other family traits run through bloodlines and upbringing without people realising. It's so strange! And cool!

Keep it in The Phamly.

A post shared by Jade (@thephamly) on Aug 30, 2017 at 11:36am PDT

It was inevitable that mum’s side would want to know more detail about how and why their beloved sister and Aunty passed away so young when we reunited with Aunty 6's kids. Mum Pham was the youngest of her siblings, and survived by four sisters - one in Melbourne, two in Germany and one in Vietnam. It hurt my heart to relive the loss but we had to for our cousins. They love Mum so much and deserve to know her final days.

Little Sissy Pham took the brunt of the struggle and anguish of watching a loved one pass. She was living at home and caring for Mum for her last months. It was traumatising for her but she recounted the heartbreak for our cousins. She told of how Mum Pham was in hospital and saw apparitions wearing white (Vietnamese funeral attire) who told her she was to go with them. That's when she fought with the hospital to be discharged, because she knew it was her time and wanted to be home when she died.

In a way it was good because Mum got to pass at home surrounded by her family and loved ones. She told Little Sissy Pham and Big Brother Pham that she was proud of them, and content to leave since her children were all doing well in life. We were raised a welfare family of refugee parents - it was a struggle some of the time, but we all overcame the disadvantages and hurdles life threw at us thanks to mum's sacrifices and hard work. My brother had a trade and family, my sister had a secure job and steady partner, and wildcard me also had steady work in the creative industries even though she didn't really understand what I do. Mum did so much for us kids to get us to this point in our lives where we could take care of ourselves, and care for her and Dad in turn.

I haven't told many people this because it hurt too much when it was fresh, and after a while we just never spoke of Mum's passing. My one, only and greatest regret in life is that I never got to say goodbye to Mum.

I was living in Melbourne at the time, when Little Sis called me mid-week to say Mum was home from hospital and that I should come visit, she was in denial so didn't tell me how dire Mum's situation was because she still held onto hope that the doctors could bring Mum back from the brink like before. I finished the work week thinking it was like my last visit to Brisbane only a couple months earlier to care for Mum till she was on a path to recovery, and I flew home on a Friday night. But it wasn't like last time at all.

This time Mum Pham was waiting up for my arrival home. She was awake when Little Sissy left to pick me up from the airport on the opposite side of town, but by the time I got to the house at 11.30pm, she had fallen asleep. She never regained full consciousness the next day. I'm confident she could hear, but she didn't have strength to open her eyes or speak. She was in too much pain to hug so I just lay next to her, and held her hand and told her how much I love her. But I didn't get a proper farewell or parting words of wisdom, love and appreciation like my siblings because I came home too late.

I wish I'd been by Mum's side for her final days of awareness. It was sad but nice to hear Little Sissy retell it to our cousins. I learned details I didn't know before. The days and weeks after Mum passed were a blur of funeral plans, and grieving, and taking care of everyone. I'm glad Mum knew it was her time to go, and content with the lives she helped us build.

Dad Pham told me how he left Vietnam by driving a boat of refugees, but I never knew the details of how Mum Pham ended up in Germany. That is, until we reunited with Aunty 6's children this year.

Aunty 6's kids took us to dinner twice - once to an all-you-can-eat Asian buffet place, and once to the most German pub they could find our hometown. Over dinner we shared stories of our lives in broken Vietnamese with bits of English. There was one story I'd never heard before.

As my cousin tells it, when South Vietnam fell to the North the communists accused them of being capitalists and took their house as punishment (though really they wanted it to house communists). Aunty 6's family was given 2 months to vacate to a rural plot of land without plumbing, power or roads. Being city dwellers, they didn't see how they'd survive in whoop-whoop with no agricultural skills or know-how.

This forced Mum's side of The Phamly to leave Vietnam. After living under communist rule for over a year, Mum Pham took all four of Aunty 6's kids with her when she fled Vietnam. They went in a small boat to a larger ship out at sea, like Dad but unlike Dad they paid their way onto the larger ship, instead of being rescued. As a result, Mum and her posse of my cousins were turned away from Australia, their original destination, because they weren't deemed refugees since they paid their way. Luckily, Germany was generous to take them in because Germany is where my parents met.

Sadly, Aunty 6 was in hospital in Frankfurt when we were in Germany and we didn't get to see her. Aunty 6 is the one who smuggled the diamonds in my diamond ring out of Vietnam with her when she left because she didn't want the communists to have them.

I didn't know her children viewed my Mum as a second mother to them. I didn't know took them to Germany alone when they were teens, and took care of them in Germany, and settled them into their new lives before helping their parents migrate over. I had always assumed their family had fled to Germany together.

It's great to see our cousins are doing well. One owns a pharmacy in beautiful Marburg, and another owns the only Asian grocer in our hometown. Their kids are really bright and intelligent. And also huge. Little Sissy Pham and I dwarfed our cousins, but their kids were bigger than us. There's something in the water or the dairy or the potatos in Germany, that's for sure.

Back in Germany in the '80s, every Saturday or Sunday The Phamly would walk a half hour to Aunty 9’s house. Well, it's a 20 minute walk as an adult for us when we went back to Germany for the first time in 29 years, but Dad & Mum Pham had to haul 3 young kids with them. Aside from the cousin who lived with us, we were probably closest to Aunty 9's kids.

We reunited with our cousins in Frankfurt on our Europe 2017 trip. Genetics is a funny thing - I recognised my cousin rounding a corner at the train station immediately because he looks EXACTLY like his mum. And he spotted me immediately because I look EXACTLY like Mum Pham (his Mum's sister).

It's been 29 years since we've seen each other. I was a pudgy 4 year old and Little Sissy Pham a scrawny 3 year old when we left Germany. In my memories, our cousins were so big and tall, and now I dwarf them. In fact, we dwarfed all of our German Phamly. Mum Pham used to say we grew enormous because we had cows' milk and potatoes as kids since we were born in Germany, then raised in Australia. Our cousins were born in Vietnam, and immigrated or migrated over.

Our Frankfurt-based cousins, Chi N (10 years older though looks 10 years younger than us now) and Anh T (3 years older), are in heaps of Phamly photos because we used to do all the fun things together. Parades and games and birthday and playground photos.

If we had stayed in Germany, I know I'd be really close to Chi N who's a graphic designer, artist, singer, and super-funny and sassy to boot. My kind of human and humour. Big Brother Pham and Anh T would have been the best of friends too. Anh T was his mum's shadow as a kid but when we went to their house, he and Big Brother Pham would go off playing adventure games together. He studied IT and is a software developer for Germany's Federal Intelligence Service. Big Brother Pham studied IT too but didn't finish his course due to some unfortunate turns of events in his life. Makes me wonder how differently all our lives would have turned out if we'd stayed in Germany. But we didn't, so no use dreaming of our fluent German, not knowing English and maybe having a smoother ride in life than we had - though with less fresh Vietnamese food because tropical-friendly food is not so common in freezing cold Germany. Life would definitely have been different for The Phamly.

Chi N shared stories of when we were little because she was old enough to remember. This one, made me laugh because it’s so typically me and Mum, and it involves something as mundane as a toilet door:

One day at Aunty 6's house when I was 3 years old, I locked myself in the toilet and didn't know how to unlock the door because: imbecile child. After a while people noticed I was missing. Soon they discovered the toilet door was locked and couldn’t think of who else would be in there so they called through the door to ask if I was OK. I was either too petrified or too dumb to reply so didn’t make a sound. As soon as Mum Pham realised I was locked inside and not responding she did what Mum Pham does best - she went into full-blown panic mode, and freaked everyone out pacing back and forth, screeching that the worst has happened because I could have had a seizure in there (I’d had one a year before), or tripped and hit my head, or fallen in the toilet and drowned. So one of our older cousins, who shares a name with Big Brother Pham so the Phamly refer to him as Big Big Brother, and my brother as Small Big Brother (cute!) - anyhoo, Big Big Brother Cousin busted the door open and they found me just sitting in there completely fine. To this day the toilet door doesn't shut properly because of young me. What a pest.


Mum Pham lived in the kitchen. The woman spent most of her life there, and when we lived in council flats she spent her days and nights in a cluttered, tiny kitchen nook staring at a stained cream turned yellow wall with one jammed window behind her to the side when she was at the stove. I was a pretty vague, ignorant and naive kid for the most part, but even my little mind knew I wanted something better for mum.

I always wanted to buy her a house with a beautiful view from the kitchen overlooking a giant garden where she’d plant all her favourite things. Life didn’t turn out that way - she’s passed now, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever be a homeowner the way prices are going. Mum loved the house Dad Pham bought when they moved to Brisbane. Sure, it’s in a suburb where Struggle Street was filmed and her kitchen overlooked a car port, the neighbour’s house and part of the street but it was a dream compared to the flat.

I have to be content that she was happy in this kitchen where all us Phamlings still gather every weekend for a Phamly feast. I try to make it a home cooked meal with Dad every week, but every now and then when I don’t have time during the day to grocery shop and prep food with Dad, we have take out. But it’s always take out together. Very rarely do we skip a week because everyone’s schedules won’t work or some of us are sick. Even then, one of the siblings will visit Dad or have him over for dinner.

Phamly dinner is a way for me to honour and remember Mum, so even though some weekends I wish I could just stay home and enjoy a lazy day, especially if I’ve had a big Saturday, I still drag my sorry butt to Inala to make Phamly dinner happen. It’s usually a Vietnamese dish. Now that I’m vegetarian, I prep the food with Dad then he cooks the meat version and I cook the vegetarian version for me and Eldest Niece. Prepping Phamly dinner is also when I get most of my quotable Dad quotes because we chat while we cook.

Then come dinner time, Little Sissy Pham rocks up to set the dinner table, and finish prep for the calm before the storm. When Big Brother Pham, his mini-me’s and wife rock up, it turns into a feeding frenzy while we all talk over each other at the table in English and Vietnamese conversations. Dad doesn’t understand us when we speak English too quickly so he doesn’t wait for an appropriate break in conversation, he’ll just start a new thread in Vietnamese whenever he damn well pleases. And I wouldn’t have it any other way because Mum used to do that too.