KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

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 cried so hard watching To All The Boys I've Loved Before on Netflix this week, a film based on the book by Jenny Han, which I haven't read yet but the trilogy is now on my to-read list.

I was embarrassed because it's such a sweet and funny TEEN movie so I didn't understand my feels. Why so emotional about a cute teen coming of age story? That night I went to bed still thinking about the film. The next morning I rewatched it because I'd enjoyed it so much the first time and also to see if I could figure out what about it intrigued me so.

I related to a film that had close to zero resemblance to any part of my life as a frumpy, grumpy, anti-social teenager. If anything, adult me is more like the lead character - I'm sensible yet emotionally naive and found myself in a 'second best / fake best' situation with a boy. But that's not why I loved the film so much.

As a tween I used to obsessively write fictional stories with teen girls as the lead characters. I have no idea if they were any good and they are all long gone because I wrote them on a typewriter and those pieces of paper were probably trashed by Dad Pham. He always threw out our homework as kids. I never realised until now that all of my fictional characters were white. That was all I read in books as a kid, that was all I knew. Representation is so important.

Watching To All The Boys I've Loved Before, I cried for younger me who would have admired and adored an Asian-American character like Lara Jean. I cried for what I missed out growing up, that feeling of belonging and acceptance. I cried because younger generations like my nieces will have books and films like this and realise they have a place in this world. They are not 'other', they are not invisible. I am so grateful to Jenny Han and Netflix and Lana Condor (who has Vietnamese heritage - woo)! Fingers crossed the other books in this series get adapted for film.

I'm going to see the movie Crazy Rich Asians on opening night with my (Not So) Single Ladies Valentine's Day Birthday posse. Wish me luck. I bet I'm going to cry like a baby.

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.

After a year of ups and downs, I'm craving peace and calm. I look forward to not doing much for a while, please and thank you. I'm at my most relaxed lazing in bed so I finally took the plunge and sunk hundreds of dollars into fresh sheets and quilt covers. Boyfriend got me into top sheets when I used to crash at his, and I've since upgraded all my sheets to nice sets. It's 1000TC or nothing, baby!

I have been sleeping on soft, silky, sublime, hotel quality bed sheets and it is life changing. I can't believe I waited so long to do this. So many nights of luxurious sleep wasted! I could never afford this in my early days of minimum wage employment, but I earned enough to this year finally pay off the last of my HECS debt so it's about time I treat myself. There are some perks to being an adult.

I've had crummy bargain bin sheets my whole adult life because I never upgraded them since moving to Melbourne as a poor graduate. As a result I have slept on ratty, old sheets for over a decade. They are so worn down the threads have a lot of dye so it's streaked with white and discolour. If you can afford to give a shit about sheets, please do.
The downside to having unbelievably comfy bedsheets is it makes getting out of bed even harder in the mornings. Lucky Boyfriend starts work early so I feel guilty staying in bed for too long when he's up and atom.

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