As we walked back to Aileen' s campus house my feet hardly touched the ground. I was still very high. My mind was spinning like a spool of silk. How extraordinary it was for me to meet President Thieu. It was almost fateful. If I hadn't felt so sick at the Baccalaureate service I wouldn't have left early. If I had been ten minutes later arriving at the reception, the crowd of people would have been so thick I would not have seen him, much less recognized him. Four thousand people on campus this weekend, but there he was, under an oak tree. This was meant to be. Someone up above is always looking down upon me with love. I looked up to the blue sky and thanked Him. I wished my mother was still alive to see me now. I would make her proud.

Last year, when my mother was dying in her bed in the village, Maura had come to VietNam with me. Maura knows where I am from, and what kind of life it was, and what I must be thinking. She must have read my mind, because she walked alongside me, squeezed my shoulders, and said,

"Not bad for a country girl. Huh, Mom?"

That same evening, at the Lobster Bake under the huge tents on the Field House lawn, Aileen's friends had reserved seats at a long table for all of us. When we sat down to eat, I saw President Thieu and his family seated at the long table next to us.

After everyone had eaten I went over to introduce myself to his wife. She was shy. Their oldest daughter was more talkative. Thieu has a pretty wife and good looking children. Then our families mingled together between the tables and we took more pictures. We joked, we laughed and we all had a good time. Maura's boyfriend Perry filmed us with the video camera. When Thieu saw this he pointed at Perry and laughed. I asked them if they would like to go to the Parents & Seniors Dance with us but they said they were too tired. We weren't. We had a `ball'.

The next morning at the graduation ceremony I hoped to see him again. Of course, with so many guests and parents and students, it was hard to find anyone. Later, after the graduation ceremony, and the hugs, and the tears, and more pictures, and happy graduates all hugging each other, everyone paraded through the campus back to the field house lawn for a final brunch.

And there he was.

He had lost his family in the crowd. He asked me if I had seen them. I couldn't help but think, if South VietNam had won the war, where would he be now? Would he be walking by himself through a crowd, looking for his family? Or would the American Government be surrounding him with Secret Service, and laying out the red carpet? In some ways, I thought, this is better for him and his family because no one knows who he is. It was a chance to enjoy his family, and his son's graduation.

Everyone went through the serving lines and found a spot on the beautiful green grass. Just like all the other families there, the Nguyen family got their own food, and sat on the grass, and enjoyed the sun. With the lunch almost over, Brian was wandering through the tents looking for the families of Aileen's friends. I was sitting with my daughters when President Thieu walked over with his camera and asked if he could videotape our family for his souvenir. As he was filming he commented on how beautiful my daughters were. "Why don't they get married?" he asked again, as he had the previous day. I told him my husband is Irish and daughters with double blood are too wild for any man. He laughed. He has a good laugh.

Before we left I came over to his family to say hello and goodbye. I asked his beautiful wife how she liked the buffet food. They all looked at each other. She said it was ok but nothing that special. I told her for sure it was nothing like VietNamese food. Everyone laughed. I almost said if you guys want good food to come down to my house tomorrow, for Aileen's party, and I will cook a lot of good VietNamese foods. But I stopped myself in time. "Good thing, too," said my husband later when I told him.

Then I told them that I had written a cookbook, "Mai Goodness", with my own recipes and also with the stories and the myths of VietNam. Many publishers liked it but they said I was a `nobody' that didn't even own a restaurant, that I was not a famous person. I told President Thieu that if I was a famous person like him I wouldn't have any problem. His oldest daughter said, "Use Father's name. He's famous." I said, "I wish," and we all laughed.

That weekend has ended but the memory is still alive.

I still see President Thieu's kind face and how contentedly he sat by himself under the oak tree waiting for his family, and later how he sat on the green grass under the warm sun, sharing the meal with his beautiful family at Bowdoin. I think to myself that President Thieu has finally found the peace at the end of the road.

Then I smile and think about myself, about my own life and my beautiful, talented family, and especially about this weekend and President Thieu, and about my second favorite movie, `My Fair Lady.'

Maura was right.

Not bad for a country girl.

--

From left to right: Aileen Donohue, Maura Donohue, Mai Donohue,
President Nguyen Van Thieu, and Maeve Donohue.

[On September 28, 2001, former President Nguyen Van Thieu of the Republic of Vietnam passed away at a Boston hospital after a stroke at his home. He was 78 years old and was survived by his beautiful wife and four lovely children.]