Taking advantage of the opportunity, I performed my civic duty and voted early. After that I went to a small nail salon, where I hoped to get the hand damages caused by a week of working on my car erased. My technician, a small woman of Vietnamese origin, told me that she also had risen early to vote this morning. She spoke softly, yet passionately about how important it was to her to vote. Listening to her talk, I became curious about how she came to the United States and I asked her. This is Kim's story.
Her husband worked for the Americans in Vietnam during the war so afterwards he became a target for reprisals. Kim helped hide him, but after three or four name changes it became obvious that he would eventually be caught and either tortured or killed for his role . The family thus decided to come to America. They were able to finally leave Vietnam in 1979. The family had one Malaysian dollar when they arrived in this country and neither of them spoke English.
Kim’s husband started going to school to learn English while she cared for her two small daughters. Without language skills a job was hard to come by so Kim and her husband spent the days searching through dumpsters for aluminum cans that they could sell. They spent some and saved some. Eventually they saved enough money to buy a very old used truck which they used to collect and sell even more cans. Always, they saved money and Kim said “We are in a new country, we have to learn about the country and learn English if we are going to be able to do anything here.” After her husband finished school, he was able to obtain a job at Sears. It was nothing big, but he finally had a job in America. Kim then started going through the short course to “learn about America and English.” While the children were in school, she went out and collected cans so that the family could save some money. When money really got tight, Kim would go to the dumpsters behind food stores to retrieve food that although outdated was still edible. Thus she fed the family.
Kim finished her English class and then she went to a school to learn how to do nails. She got her license as a nail technician and that is how I met her. Kim is always at the shop. I have seen her when she is not feeling well and when she is in great spirits. I have seen her when the shop was busy and when the shop was so empty that I wondered how she was able to make any money. What I have never seen was Kim in a bad mood or feeling sorry for herself.
Kim recited her story in a very low-keyed, matter-of-fact manner, seeking neither acclamation nor commiseration from me. She just explained how she had been able to make it in America through hard work and effort. She is proud of her husband and she is proud of her children.
At the end of her story Kim looked at me and said. “I don’t know everything about the candidates or their parties. I don’t know everything about politics in America. I do know that in America we were able to make a life and I do know that I have to vote. I hope that whoever wins this election makes decisions that make things better for all Americans, I am so proud to be here.” She is an American citizen and she is the American dream personified!
I was profoundly moved and awed with what one small woman had endured to get here and to succeed here. I wished she could tell her story to everyone that is not proud of their country or who feels that this country is a mean-spirited or evil place. Words failed me though and I could not tell Kim how moved I was by her story. It is later now and I now know what I wanted to say this morning.
"Kim, You're A Great American!”
