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Meet Billy!
The biography of a boy whose life was diverted by war and circumstance
He is not simply a forty-something Asian-American man, but a peerless individual with the endearing qualities of a
perpetual adolescent in both appearance and behavior.  He is the child of a Caucasian American soldier and a
Vietnamese woman whose unsuccessful marriage was tested during an unpopular war in a troubled moment in both
our country's histories.

Born January 21st, 1965 into a turbulent society, William was given his paternal surname in Western tradition, but the
man who is his father would later abandon him emotionally.  In Billy’s mind it was because his birth had been flawed by
complications and he was deemed imperfect.  Described as one of a multitude of maladies in those days, we know it now
by the single term, Craniofacial Anomaly.  It is the general expression used for a class of cranial defects which range in
degrees of severity.  In Billy’s case it would manifest as skull, neck and facial distortion with a deaf, malformed right ear.  
To this day, the condition is not recognized as impairment by this government or its strong insurance lobby.  Parents
must bear the cost of treatments to correct any deviation that can be corrected [a].  In earlier times and especially in
that broken part of the world, children remained as they were fashioned by nature; left to endure the curious gaze and
taunts of the uneducated.

His physical circumstance required special attention and he was told of several operations to correct his breathing and
to repair his cleft palette.  Other details of his early childhood in Vietnam remain undiscovered as they are limited by
Billy's indistinct memories.  He does remember the love of his mother and new stepfather and of his half brothers and
sisters.  A smart and curious youngster, he was treated as an equal among the other children as he advanced normally
in his neighborhood's Catholic school system and it was a happy time for him, even as the war crept closer to his home.  
The increasing worry his mother felt for his safety was kept hidden from him.

***

In the spring of his 10th year, the fourth grader’s familiar and comfortable life unraveled abruptly.  The army of the
National Liberation Front was marching south to victory unchecked in its extraordinary advance.  Panic spread with the
rumor that persons at special risk would be dealt with cruelly if discovered.  Billy's mother, fearing the worst, was  
presented with an opportunity to save him from that uncertain peril.  She parcelled together a small bag of clothes, some
identifying papers and a wallet containing ten dollars and, on the 21st of April, 1975, amid the chaos of fleeing people,
deposited her tiny American citizen onto the back seat of a US military jeep at Tan Son Nhut Air Base in Saigon.

Billy remembers vividly his mother’s face as he was driven away sobbing and pleading to her, restrained by a soldier.  He
recalls her frightened eyes as the tears fell and how she bowed her head to hide them.  His last glimpse had caught her
stealing a look his way as she returned to their family home, without him.

As in a dream, it had become ever more surreal for that young bewildered boy.  He was placed within a group of children
who were also awaiting their unrehearsed evacuation from Vietnam.  Operation Babylift was what the military called it
and by then it was in high gear.  Orphans awaiting adoption, at-risk and mixed race children under the age of 10 were
hurriedly assembled for departure to destinations around the world.  The first humanitarian flight, just 17 days earlier,
had crashed with a staggering loss of children and personnel.

I can’t but imagine the desperation Billy felt due to his sudden separation from family; the anxious thoughts that must
have raced through his mind as he was ushered into the belly of that giant military C-5A cargo jet transport; or the
helplessness he told me he experienced during its harsh flight to freedom as he sat unrestrained on the aft deck next to
the loading ramp doors amidst a sea of tiny, terrified souls and their adult protectors.

And yet there would be another more cruel indignity for that seemingly abandoned child to suffer for his liberty. Suddenly
and painfully during the flight his only healthy eardrum burst - and as blood trickled down, Billy's world collapsed into a
permanent and muffled silence.  Dazed and helpless, that horrifying detour had swept him reluctantly toward a
soundless and unfamiliar land and a dark indefinite future.

***

Billy was processed under Operation Kids at Clark Air Base in the Philippines.  He was then flown from Manila to the
United States, the country of his birthright.  In California, doctors examining him did not realize his deafness was due to
a recent injury and because of his other physical impairments assumed it was inborn.  Placed in a foster home, Billy
waited for a permanent sponsor.  When his paternal grandmother in New Jersey was informed about his situation, she
took it upon herself to raise him.

That September, his deafness and silence was once again misinterpreted.  School officials, believing he had a mental
disability, placed him into the second grade.  Not only did he have to adjust to mechanically amplified sound for the first
time in his life, he had to do it while learning to communicate in an unfamiliar language.

When he was 14, he became increasingly depressed by the taunts of his younger classmates teasing him about his
physical differences. Concerned, his grandmother petitioned his father’s help to pay for his first cosmetic surgery. Over
two years, surgeons rebuilt his misshapen cheek and jaw and reconstructed his eye socket so as to align it with the
other. Billy still bears the scar across the top of his head where they cut his scalp from ear to ear and pulled his face
from his skull.  Another scar spoils his chest over the rib where pieces of bone were taken for the repairs.  But the
attempt to improve his appearance also damaged some nerves and caused his eyelid to be fixed in an open stare.  A
small part of his lip and tongue remain paralyzed to this day.  The undesirable outcome only troubled him more.

In the late 80’s at the age of 21 he graduated high school with his class. But not long after, his grandmother, the
guiding influence of his late childhood and adolescence, died after an illness and he was left with nothing and no one.
Crushed, he turned to drugs and alcohol and wandered without purpose.  As he withdrew, he considered suicide.  A
homeless friend at a rescue mission guided him to a rehabilitation program where he received the counseling he
needed.  It would take several years for him to improve his condition but he continued to struggle with depression.

His choices for employment were limited by his appearance and his perception of being a failure.  Usually hidden from
the public in behind the scene, short term jobs, he struggled to maintain his independence.  Depressed and totally
alone, he sought out his estranged father.  The rejection he received pierced his heart.  But it also empowered him to
re-establish the bond with those he considered to be his real family and to find the mother who was lost to him.

In 1997, Billy dialed the number on an old photo he found in his childhood wallet and after 22 years of separation, heard
his mother's voice once again.  For her, it was the first she knew that he had survived that day in 1975.  A few months
later, he returned to the city of his birth to meet his Vietnamese kin.  The reunion and all the engaging moments of his
trip were captured on film by his older half brother and the pictures remain a dear memento.  He made a second visit in
2000, but lost contact when his letters were lost during a move to California.  He has since been troubled with his new
identity, knowing that he doesn't quite fit either culture.

***

When I met him, he was a shy figure, lost and alone, seldom without a bottle of Vodka hidden within a paper sack.  He
would avert his eyes when people spoke to him, preferring instead to look at the ground, nervously anticipating their
disgust at the sight of him.  Simply responding he was “fine” when asked, he would later come to tell me that deep
inside he was always uncomfortable from the shame of being different from other people - from not being normal.

To me, he was a compelling mystery.  I wanted to be his friend; to help him; to learn his story.  But it wouldn't be easy.  
As I think back on it now, I don’t remember seeing his defects.  What I remember was the anger and mistrust of a lonely,
frightened soul.  I also sensed the aura of that misplaced 10-year-old boy whose life had been suspended in time,
violently and irrevocably interrupted by that now distant war.

We are the best of buddies now, even though I am nearly 20 years his senior.  And he is finally cultivating a larger circle
of people who will accept him without condition.  But the real world still offers him nothing.  Every success he has
realized, he has accomplished on his own or with the help of good friends.

His dental reconstructions and facial surgeries have also been his to finance.  Bureaucrats say they are only cosmetic.
In spite of it all, he continues to address one issue at a time and was finally able to afford an implant that helped to
lower his right eyelid and restore its shape.  Hopefully, the obvious stares and audible whispers that isolated him in
public were to be subdued with this procedure, but he still suffers the palpable glances of strangers.

In 2005, he developed severe vertigo and the hearing in his aided ear is dimming.  Still, he pursues his hobbies with
passion and has recently resumed playing his fiddle.  

***

I was living a comfortable life here, back in the 70's.  And while I wasn't drafted for service in that ill-fated war in
Vietnam, I can still remember the relief I felt when the President withdrew our troops and gave me back my future.

And soon after, the news of the fall of Saigon became just one more banner story to help finalize a dark episode in our
country's history.  But the incident was not just a mere headline for Billy. It was real and it was crucial to his existence.  
While it marked an end to a split society’s arduous conflict, that day became the dire starting point of Billy’s enduring
personal struggle for survival and acceptance.

I am honored to be a part of Billy's life. But what I am most proud of, is that in private, he calls me Dad.
Billy is my friend ...
Meet Billy!
Billy at 1 year old with family
Billy at 2 years old with mother
Billy at 10 years old
Billy at 11 years old with second grade class
Saigon 2000 family reunion
Saigon 1997 - reunited after 22 years
The family in 1998 - Saigon
Saigon, Vietnam - 1960's
Princeton, New Jersey, USA - 1970's
      Thank you for reading my story.
                                                                     ~Billy
1998 in New Jersey
2004