Happy New Year Mélange

"Park a helicopter on top of your house."

Greetings on the cusp of the new year, the end of a quarter century!

Notably, the end of 2025 also marks the end of the 50th Commemoration of the Vietnam War.

Photo, 2014, Congress Park, Saratoga Springs, NY.

I want to thank all “Stories of Vietnam” readers for sharing the journey of revisiting the Vietnam Era on a gently regular basis with an eye toward seeking a greater understanding of what that time has meant to us individually and collectively.

For many years, I felt as if my small stories could in no way add to the veritable cascade of heartbreaking stories that came out of that time. And yet, through many inexplicable inner and outward promptings, I was prompted to move ahead with sharing what I remember, what I’ve researched, what I’ve found.

Today, I’d like to share three varied, brief, and, I think, engaging snippets.
I saved the most curious for last, so read to the end for a unique New Year’s Wish.

All the Stories, Perfectly Edited

First up is the professional recording of “Not the Usual War Stories” from an October presentation at the Onondaga Historical Society. It was the final presentation this year by my fellow Seventies Saigonese and writer Karen Kaiser (author of Gardens in the Midst of War).

Each time I listen to her stories, I’m more amazed than the last; I think you’ll enjoy hearing her speak of how she arrived in Saigon with a great enthusiasm for seeing this place that “had been in the news for years,” but was now on an, ahem, peaceful footing.

It may make for some enjoyable New Year’s Day entertainment.

Sharing our stories in 2025 was a meaningful way to mark the 50th Anniversary of the Fall of Saigon. We live our stories alone, but sharing them halves the sorrows and doubles the joys; my great gratitude to Karen for being part of both.

For the Love of Vietnam Review

Secondly, as uncomfortable as it is for me, I’m sharing a review of my 2023 book.

Title page of my book with inscription. In the background, a 1992 photo of my father, James E. Welch, gazing at his first grandson. My father died months later.

It is said that one of the greatest human fears is speaking in front of an audience. I, however, actually quite enjoy that experience. What I do seem to fear—or, if not fear, actively cringe away from—is promoting myself and my writing in print.

Thus, I am sharing this recent review by a Stories of Vietnam subscriber who has repeatedly buoyed me up by sharing with me what an impact my writing has had on his life experience. There’s no greater satisfaction than that, I must say.

So, where I have difficulty with this sort of thing, I’m happy to let him speak for my book. Though he confessed that he felt as if his words were not sufficient, they speak volumes to me.

For the Love of Vietnam

Bridging the gap between the Pull-Out and The Fall, this book provides two stories, blended into one.

The first tells of the American aid program and one American family’s life in Saigon, including the perceptions of a then-third grader (same age as my granddaughter is now).

And then, as the collapse of South Vietnam becomes a nightmarish reality, it tells of their father’s determination and courage to do the right thing in the face of impossible odds.

This is a story that will “grow” on you. This book is an essential part of our history – don’t miss it.

And to Ms. Fitzpatrick, thank you for sharing.
/s/ a Vietnam veteran

1975 New Year’s Advice

Last and most intriguing is a note from my maternal grandmother dated January 1, 1975.

As you may recall, one of the last lines of my mother’s holiday letter was a wish for a happy Christmas and “all of the best in 1975.”

We say that every year, don’t we? We wish for the best in the coming year. It’s only natural, of course. The year we were in Vietnam, my mother wrote home about many harrowing stories of life in Saigon, blended blithely with descriptions of school activities and enjoyable social outings.

These closing words are one of only recorded instances of what my grandparents must have thought about our life and potential predicament. I wonder if they had any idea how prescient this “advice” was?

Be careful over there. Park a helicopter on top of your house. Fly to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Love and God Bless You, Gma & Gpa.

With that, I wish you a Happy and Blessed 2026, though, as always, we know not what lies before us.