1. My
research
process
this
summer
was
broken
up
into
three
specific
phases.
Phase
one
was
the
collection
of
background
information
on
Vietnam,
and
specifically
what
R&R
inn
Oahu,
Hawaii
was
like
during
the
war.
Phase
two
was
the
collection
of
primary
source
material,
e.g.
the
interviews
conducted
with
my
grandparents,
the
letters
of
theirs
that
I
had
access
to,
scanned-­‐in
Polaroid
pictures
from
the
time
period,
and
menus
from
restaurants
that
they
frequented.
Phase
three
was
the
writing
of
the
full-­‐length
rough
draft.
This
was
the
longest
phase
comprising
2/3rds
of
the
time
spent
working
on
this
project.
During
phase
three
I
maintained
constant
contact
with
my
grandparents
(who
were
luckily
located
in
the
same
area
as
me
this
summer).
The
current
product
is
strongly
rooted
within
the
factual
truth
of
their
experience
as
a
couple
separated
by
Vietnam,
however,
I
have
obviously
dramatized
certain
scenarios
and
shifted
timelines
for
dramatic
convention.
Phase
one
of
my
project
began
the
business
week
of
June
13th.
That
week
I
began
pursuing
leads
on
other
interview
subjects
by
reaching
out
to
the
Connecticut
chapters
of
the
Vietnam
Veterans’
Association,
as
well
as
personal
connections
my
grandparents
and
other
family
members
had.
I
did
not
expect
that
the
play
would
end
up
becoming
exclusively
a
testament
to
my
own
grandparents’
experience,
but
when
we
had
our
first
interview
that
week
I
was
overwhelmed
by
the
amount
of
materials
they
had
saved.
Thus,
eventually
I
stopped
pursuing
other
leads
in
order
to
have
more
time
to
work
with
my
grandparents.
During
phase
one,
I
also
read
the
books
Waiting
Wives
by
Donna
Moreau
and
Tours
of
Vietnam
by
Scott
Landerman
in
order
to
ground
myself
in
the
culture
of
Vietnam
now
as
a
“war
tourism”
area,
and
what
it
was
like
to
be
left
at
home
with
a
husband
overseas.
Both
of
these
books
were
suggested
readings
by
faculty
member
Michael
Allen,
who
is
a
specialist
on
the
Vietnam
War.
I
also
watched
a
few
films
suggested
by
my
grandfather
to
root
myself
in
the
time,
including
Forest
Gump
and
Good
Morning,
Vietnam.
These
were
suggested
to
me
for
the
former’s
visual
depiction
of
trench
life,
and
the
latter’s
depiction
of
the
Vietnamese
people
themselves.
I
also
reached
out
to
Harriet
Lightman,
a
Northwestern
history
librarian,
who
helped
me
find
databases
relevant
to
R&R
in
Hawaii
during
the
Vietnam
War.
The
topic
itself
has
hardly
been
covered
in
academia,
most
of
what
I
found
were
brochures
and
maps
of
the
island
of
Oahu
from
the
year
1969
when
my
grandparents’
visited.
The
Virtual
Vietnam
Archive
was
the
most
invaluable
resource
she
led
me
to,
because
of
the
hundreds
of
real-­‐veteran
interviews,
which
are
stored
as
audio
files
on
the
site.
Despite
being
unable
to
have
personal
interviews
with
people
other
than
my
grandparents,
using
these
interviews
I
was
able
to
fill
in
the
blanks
of
logistics
that
they
may
have
not
remembered.
Those
blanks
were;
however,
few
and
far
between.
Discovering
the
limits
of
my
nana’s
amazing
ability
to
recount
minute
details
of
her
day-­‐to-­‐day
life
during
Vietnam
became
the
driving
force
of
my
interview
work
in
phase
two.
It
was
fascinating
in
group
interviews
to
watch
my
grandfather
remember
far
more
than
he
had
in
his
individual
interviews
when
my
nana
would
jog
his
memory.
I
truly
believe
that
she
has
become
the
protagonist
of
this
play,
and
largely
because
it
was
her
perspective
that
provided
the
most
concrete
information.
The
interviews
I
have
had
with
her
this
summer,
the
same
summer
a
woman
has
been
nominated
as
a
major
party
presidential
candidate
in
our
country’s
history,
have
been
illuminating
and
inspiring.
It
has
been
fascinating
to
compare
our
different
approaches
to
the
world
as
self-­‐identified
feminists,
to
see
how
my
mother
was
shaped
by
her
mother’s
influence,
to
discuss
silly
romantic
details
of
our
lives
and
feel
the
age
gap
begin
to
shrink.
“It’s
important
to
talk
to
young
people,”
she
said
to
me
a
few
weeks

2. ago,
at
lunch,
my
grandfather,
and
I.
“It
keeps
us
relevant
and
if
gives
you
perspective.”
Phase
two
of
my
research
revealed
such
a
wealth
of
information
about
my
family
history
that
I
can’t
help
but
look
at
my
life
with
an
adjusted
perspective
now
that
I
have
a
deeper
understanding
of
my
roots.
Thus,
with
phase
three
I
was
presented
with
my
first
real
challenge:
now
that
I
had
shifted
the
focus
of
my
story
to
the
story
of
my
grandparents,
exclusively,
how
was
I
to
write
about
them
in
an
honest
way?
How
do
you
talk
about
to
sappy,
“horny”
(my
grandmother’s
words,
not
mine),
and
temporarily
star-­‐crossed
lovers,
who
also
happen
to
be
the
people
you
made
cookies
with
growing
up?
This
is
the
moment
that
reading
Vietgone
by
Qui
Nguyen
became
important
for
me.
That
play,
one
written
about
his
parents,
who
met
as
Vietnamese
refugees
in
America,
is
honest.
To
be
frank,
I’m
not
sure
if
I’ve
captured
the
spirit
of
my
grandparents’
love
story
in
my
play.
There
are
parts
I
feel
like
I
need
to
remove
myself
from
in
order
to
really
dive
into.
Which
leads
me
to
what
comes
next:
I
have
89
pages,
a
full-­‐length
play
by
any
standard,
yet
nowhere
near
a
finished
product.
In
a
way
the
nearly
ninety
pages
is
a
triumph
within
itself,
the
original
parameters
I
set
out
for
myself
in
my
grant
proposal
were
30
pages
of
a
draft,
and
five
interviews
with
different
subjects.
Instead
I
had
many
more
interviews
with
two
subjects
and
far
more
than
just
the
start
of
the
play.
Now,
it’s
important
that
I
get
this
thing
on
its
feet.
My
goals
for
fall
quarter
are
to
brush
up
the
script
in
a
few
weeks,
once
it’s
no
longer
fresh
in
my
memory,
and
then
to
get
a
group
of
my
actor
friends
together
and
just
go
through
it.
It’s
still
in
the
early
stages
of
development,
and
I’m
excited
to
see
what
these
actors
have
to
say
about
the
scenes
I’m
having
particular
difficulty
with,
especially
the
more
risqué
or
controversial
bits.
I
maintain
that
this
play
is
based
on
a
true
story,
but
by
no
means
needs
to
adhere
to
the
exact
factual
reality
of
that
story
so
long
as
the
core
remains
honest
and
relatable.
Hearing
the
words
out
loud
will
help
me
understand
which
parts
need
adjustment,
and
which
are
working.
The
long-­‐term
goal
for
this
project
would
then
be
to
see
the
play
put
on.
Whether
as
a
staged
read
through
or
a
fully
produced
play,
it
is
definitely
a
goal
for
the
year
to
see
it
on
its
feet,
and
in
the
hands
of
a
director
and
actors
that
I
can
learn
to
believe
in.
Letting
this
piece
go
will
be
the
best
thing
I
can
do
for
its
development.
Vietnam
remains
a
time
in
American
history
that
is
often
reflected
on
as
a
mistake.
A
tactical
fluke.
A
tragedy
for
American
idealism.
What
I’ve
learned
this
summer
(and
am
still
learning)
is
that
it
was
more
complex
than
that.
Especially
for
those
like
my
grandfather
who
were
involved
day-­‐to-­‐day
in
the
situational
reality,
he
believes
we
should’ve
gave
more,
we
could’ve,
but
it
would’ve
cost
so
many
more
lives
in
an
already
intensely
unpopular
war.
My
nana
saw
it
as
her
husbands’
duty
to
fight
for
his
county,
she
saw
it
as
her
own
responsibility
to
take
care
of
their
daughter
back
home,
and
it
wasn’t
until
much
later
that
she
began
questioning
the
involvement
herself.
Wars
tear
families
apart,
and
bring
together
people
that
may
have
never
met
otherwise.
The
beauty
of
my
grandparents’
story
is
that
despite
the
separation,
despite
anxiety
and
lack
of
faith
at
times,
despite
petty
disagreements
over
domestic
matters,
they
learned
to
find
commonalities,
places
in
the
middle.
They
strove
to
keep
each
other
in
their
new
worlds.
The
beauty
of
Hawaii,
or
H—
as
my
grandfather
calls
it
in
his
letters,
is
that
it
became
a
place
in
which
they
could
literally
meet
in
the
middle.
It
was
a
paradise
in-­‐between
the
life
they
were
starting
in
Queens
and
the
interruption
of
Vietnam.
But
at
the
end
of
the
day,
they
were
just
in
love,
just
trying
to
figure
things
out,
just
doing
their
best
to
understand
each
other.