Sabaydii SatJadham friends, Pii Nong Lao Tuk Quon: Preview: Below is my belated contribution to the "Generation Gap" series of SatJaDham, with sincere apologies. Upon thinking over many days and nights about what I was to write for this subject, I realized that I had many takes on it, depending upon what I felt that day--this feeling of having multiple feelings, moods, and approaches is the essence of being a Lao American immigrant, and being human. Hence, the free verse work below is only one of the many reflections I have on the Gap between our Generations. Here, I've chosen a Generation yet to come because like many of us, I approach my future with hope and apprehensiveness about what will be lost with time. This piece is dedicated to someone I have yet to know... "I Know You" A Generation Gap installment by Genevieve (On) Siri, 18 August 1996 My Dearest: You have yet to be born. I do not know a thing about your appearance. I know nothing of what makes your heart skip a beat, of what lies in your head, of how you feel. I don't know you, and you don't know me. But I know that I will love you, as much as my parents loves me. And you will be all that is "American" within me. At least that I know for certain. All that was new for me in this Great Superpower Society of ours will be all the mundane to you. Your first breath will likely be in a big land called America, a land that Mommy and Daddy have only grown to know. Your first words will be "Daddy" instead of Pa. Your first meal will be the warm milk of me, raised on McDonald's, Coca Cola, and good ol' American apple pie. You little breaths will be dry Pacific air, instead of the moist Monsoon. You will play on jungle gyms, and nothing even close to a jungle. You will climb branches for little crab apples and not for purple and yellow mangoes. You will not experience a rainy season, only glimpse at a thunderstorm.... The house underneath your little feet will be made of slabs, concrete, stucco. No wooden ladder or stilts for you. The oh-so-itchy rashes come from your 5 day, 5-year old chicken pox, not from any hungry mosquitoes. You will know the crunch potato chips, Alas not of tasty grasshoppers. Grandma will call for you. And you can only look at her with your big brown eyes, wondering what she is trying to convey? My dearest love, you will ask: "Why is Mommy teaching me to bow and clap my hands together for Granny? Can't I just wave bye-bye? Why does Grandpa look so sad, with that dreamy, far-away look in his eyes?" You will never know why you look the way you do, how you got to where you are, or the genealogy of your distant past. Muang Lao, Vientiane, Xieng Khoaung...it's all foreign to you. You will never know the fear in your Grandpa's heart when he ran for shelter in the Embassy in a distant land, as his home lay in ruins, and left behind. In a far-off time, and a far-off place, you will never know about the Home, memories, families abandoned to Time. You will never enjoy that memories of sitting with your Ma by the sewing machine, threading the belt loops of countless dresses, piece by piece. No sneezing or dust for you, dear boy. You will never taste free government cheese or experience the afternoon walks with Grandpa to the corner diner for a bowl of colorful cereal or hot submarine sandwiches. No hot pavement or smoggy L.A. freeways below you. No, dear son, you will never know the noisy din or shouting kids, crying babies, and trilling Lao tunes amidst cramped apartment houses. No toys to pick from garbage cans and no hand-me-downs from rich, far away cousins. No reading in a foreign language. No commendation for learning English so fast or speaking it so well. Your tongue as soft as your mind impressionable. Yes, life will be easier for you. You’ll never have to endure, suffer, toil or traverse across the many miles, continents, or memories as Mommy and Granny have--just so You could have all that you do. Your future is as paved as the roads of America. No more rough terrain, not the kinds of bumps, pitfalls and bruises so common to the roads outside Vientiane. Harvard, Yale, Stanford those names will be easy music to your ears. no more straining, explaining, and yearning for those gates of Freedom. For, My dear Son, all the worlds Riches, Freedom and Mommy’s dreams will be yours. ***************************************************************** Kop Jai, This piece in no way condones partiality for a boy. Rather, it is meant to highlight the easier life a 2nd generation Lao American boy may have over a girl in our present society. Comments and Honest Critique are welcome--Kindly post them to &/or .