Nothing helped. Whatever the reasons, I knew that man. In some way I knew that face even though the man was much older than the pictures I had cut out. As the other guests arrived, I kept my eyes on him most of the time. Sometimes being 4'10" tall is a gift. Like a small child, I could watch him through all the tall Americans without anyone noticing. By this time I was determined to find out who he really was, but how?

My family knows that I don't give up that easy. I can also be annoying to no end. Half an hour later I was still saying, "It's him, it's him." Brian was the one who had to listen to my whining. He was getting annoyed. He asked me, "What will you say to him? `Hey, you!' Are you going to shout out his name here?" I said, "I am not that stupid." Brian sighed, "Then go ask him." Maeve was standing with us. She said, "Let's get this over with. I'll go with you." I suppressed my fear and nervousness, put on my sweet little VietNamese face, and Maeve and I walked over to him.

I had a very difficult time with the class project but I decided to stick with it and I am glad I did because it helped to heal part of my past. As part of my finals grade, I also xeroxed copies of over fifty pictures for my media presentation to the class. Among the pictures of war I also chose to put the pictures of many leaders whom I thought were important and who related to my project. There were pictures of the U.S. Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon, as well as pictures of Ho Chi Minh, Ngo Dinh Diem, Nguyen Van Thieu and many of the generals. I worked days and nights on it: I checked and rechecked every detail to the point that each of those faces became imprinted inside my head. Ironically, I came to know more about VietNam's leaders from my project than from when I was growing up there. As a child out in the countryside I never knew who was my President, nor did anyone else in my village. We were just the country folk. We did what we were told. Each new government that came into power made us pay dearly. The first `history' I learned was from leaflets dropped over our village by the French and I knew they were fighting at Dien Bien Phu. Bombs also dropped and we would run for the bunkers. When we heard that the French had left the country we cheered, but I for one didn't really know who I was cheering for. Then came Ho Chi Minh and Ngo Dinh Diem and the fighting kept on. There were many northerners that came to our village. Later, when I had escaped into the Big City of Saigon, I remember Diem because he was the first and because he was assassinated while I was hiding from my ex-husband in Tan Son Nhut airbase, living as a nanny with a pilot's family.

By this time, also, my family was finally ripped apart. My older sister was married to a Viet Cong; my younger brother had run away to the North to serve `Uncle Ho'; and my older brother had gone South to fight for President Ngo Dinh Diem. But after Diem, there were so many changes in the leadership I couldn't keep up. I hardly knew who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. I had heard of Premier Nguyen Cao Key because he was famous for his playboy style. Then there was Nguyen Van Thieu, who was a quiet man and the son of a fisherman. He was smart and had done well for himself. He was the one leader in South VietNam strong enough to stay in the power the longest time. I thought Thieu was a decent man. Diem, Key and Thieu were the three names I remembered most. And when I came to the U.S. I saw some of their pictures on the paper or on the TV screen. Of the VietNam leaders whose pictures I had carefully cut out and pasted for my presentation, Ngo Dinh Diem was dead and Nguyen Cao Key owned a restaurant in California, and the longest lasting President of South VietNam-- where was Nguyen Van Thieu? I couldn't help but wonder what happened to him?

I walked straight toward him and pretended I was full of confidence. He was wearing reddish sunglasses but I knew he was looking right at us. My hands were rubbing together like a school girl. I tried not to let him know that I was nervous. I apologized for bothering him. I told him that I might be wrong but he looked so much like someone I knew, but couldn't remember where. I said if I am wrong, please forgive me. I was so nervous I was mumbling without knowing it.

He took off his cap to scratch his head. His hair was white and thinner than in the pictures. His face was also thinner with some wrinkles but he was still very good looking for a man his age. He was courteous but cautious. He was also surprised that I recognized him. He asked me if I was VietNamese. When I said "Yes," he replied, `Well, that is where you saw me. You saw me in VietNam." At this point I was sure, but I wanted him to say so. I took a deep breath.

"Please forgive me, sir. Are you President Nguyen Van Thieu?"

He smiled kindly and said, "Yes, I am."