In 9th grade, or maybe it was 7th grade…I’m not sure, I was putting together a poster board for social studies class. Do they even call it social studies any more? In any case, I made my poster. It was about Vietnam. Not the country. Not its history or politics. It was about the war, kind of. It was mostly about my dad.
It offered nothing about the experience of the people of Vietnam, the origin of the conflict, or even much about the experience of the American soldiers who fought, lived or died there. It didn’t say much.
I remember asking questions as part of the project. Carefully scripting the interview and then posing the questions to my dad. I don’t remember his responses. They were unremarkable, as were my questions. Somehow I knew that I wasn’t supposed to ask “big” questions. I asked about the food and the music he listened to when he was there. I asked about the weather. I didn’t ask the big questions. I didn’t show him the pictures I planned to use. Continue reading