The mentor

 Last week was a stressful week at work and for my health.

Working in the healthcare business is always stressful. Everywhere, the political game and power-grabbing dynamics are toxic. On top of that, budget cuts and deficits in healthcare make the job intolerable. 

For a few weeks, I had symptoms of a UTI and needed to see the Doctor.

Turned out I did not have a UTI. This female doctor did not sugarcoat it either. She announced that I have menopause dried up vaginas. 

Visually, I said to myself, “Like a dried-up old well.”

The doctor prescribed me a vaginal creams and gently suggested a shingles shot.    

After the shot, for the whole weekend, I got chilled and hot. The $30 paid-in-cash prescribed vaginal cream helped to calm the burning sensation and ease my mind that at least I did not have a UTI.

Life felt sad, defeated, and depressing last week. Meditation and Qi Gong helped. Sewing helped. Taking time off helped. Nguyen always helped. 

And. 

Katherine Sherwood’s art helped.

A few days ago, I received good news that my long-time mentor, Katherine Sherwood, just received the 2026 California Arts Council Individual Artist Fellowship for Bay Area.

That is one of prestige rewards; among more of less 600 artists who applied, 32 got selected! 

Look at her beautiful picture; I feel much better.

My heart cheered for her.

Her beautiful art cheered me up. I felt happy. 

I met her for the first time in 2004 when I went to UC Berkeley as a transfer student from Mission College in Sylmar, LA.  

She was a tenured art professor in the Art department. 

The first class I wanted to take from her was “Medicine, Disability and Art ”.

The class was popular, always full, and students had to put on the waiting list. 

 I could not get into the class in the first semester, so I ended up taking another class that she taught, called “Special Projects”. 

Throughout this class, students were expected to produce projects that related to four themes:

“Quilting, Money, Food, and Book". 

This class was full of surprises, which exposed me to quilting, sewing, and bookmaking as art. That concept cemented the foundation for my art practice.

One project I produced for this class was my very first quilt, which turned my life and my art upside down unexpectedly and solidly bonded me and Katherine for a long time to come.

(With Katherine and my sister-in-law at my thesis show at UC Berkeley 2005. )

Next semester, I successfully registered for her “Medicine, Disability and Art”. This time, I learnt that art can be used as medicine to heal physically, mentally, psychologically, and spiritually. 

Katherine Sherwood had a stroke two years before I met her. I witnessed her art bring her back to life and carry out her teaching to a different level.  

After the stroke, she fought for life wholeheartedly with her art practice and art teaching. 

Head-on. She never ran away from her problem. 

One door shut. Another door opened. You just have to be the one who opens it.

She did. 

After the stroke, her art was quiet but huge. Always in 2- year process of making one piece because she had to learn how to paint again with her left hand.

The stroke guided her painting differently. She had to slow down, make less noise, have an intimate conversation with the stroke, try to understand, embrace, visualize, and come to terms with living peacefully with her condition.

I always find peace seeing her body of work during this time. Abstractly, at first glance, thick layers of paint bind together until they eventually reveal the cracks through the layers. The cracks were deep. They made a silent sound. They appeared painfully, beautifully, vulnerably enough to invite the audience to bear witness without a word.

Life is full of suffering. Artists like Katherine know how to make life less suffering and more tolerant.

( My top table along with her art in one of the shows in Berkeley )

Katherine was a tough teacher. 

I remember vividly that she told students that her art class would never be an easy A. I had to learn how to build my big-sized wooden frame for my canvas. Students’ quilt project should not be a baby-sized quilt. No wonder I could never make a small-sized quilt after that first quilt. 

She officially became my mentor for the prestigious Haas scholarship at UC Berkeley my senior year. Every year, 12 students from different departments got selected for a 1-year scholarship to conduct a thesis project for graduation.

That scholarship helped me deepen my study in art for healing. I got funding to go back to Vietnam for my project research. The final presentation later became my portfolio for the MFA program at UC Davis.  

Katherine walked me through those projects with sharp criticism and care.

She was with me when my mother- in- law was diagnosed with lung cancer and passed away in 2005. She was there for me when I sewed a quilt to honor my mother-in-law's passing. We called this quilt “Unfinished Story.” She suggested the name for my thesis show graduation from UC Berkeley. 

 I did not want to do the MFA. I wanted to work and make money.

Both Katherine and Nguyen, my husband, supported and encouraged me to go. 

The whole family moved up to UC Davis for my MFA. The two years at UC Davis were an important development for me as a professional artist. The children started their swimming careers at Davis as well.

We joined another project called Yelling Clinic and reunion in Berkeley a few more times after my MFA.

                          

                      

( Katherine with two Yeller Artists on the Vietnam trip for the Yelling Clinic project )

Then Katherine's husband, Jeff, passed away. 

She reunited with her sweetheart boyfriend. 

My mother passed away in 2011.

We moved to Seattle and were busy with life and the children. 

We still keep each other updated. She went to visit Seattle sometimes. We came down to join her class and exhibitions. 

She retired from her teaching job and dedicated her full-time schedule to doing art.

She told me COVID was the best time for artists to paint and practice solitude. 

After Katherine retired, I see her work circle back to her previous style with bold colors that are dominated by red. She added flowers, fruits, and patterns.  A lot of flowers back to back in each large-scale painting reappear cheerfully to bloom with life and happiness.

She is back with her signature red. She always loves to wear red. Her lipstick is red. Her hat is red. Her glasses frame is red. 

Her art is vibrantly red and full of life. Her art is loud enough to get the world's notice.

I lay down on the bed, complaining that I am sick. I am tired and defeated after last week. 

This morning I looked at her pictures.

My tears rolled down. 

I texted her that I missed her. I missed her laugh. Katherine has the most contagious laugh ever.

Seeing the picture of her sitting, smiling between two walls up to the ceiling, full of art, I had an epiphany.

Life is not just simply years added on that make one get old and dried up.

Life is an attitude, and it would be up to me to fill that dried well up again with life.

I told my children that we are lucky if we have good teachers who can change our lives.

I am lucky to have my lifelong mentor who continues to set a good example of how to live life to the fullest no matter what happens.

                             

                           ( Katherine danced her heart out at our Yelling Clinic show in 2012 ) 

                                  (Katherine and Steve came to Seattle to visit our family in Jun 2025. She knew the kids when they were three and six years old back in Berkley ) 

                                                Life is beautiful!

Helicopter parents : The cousin from Denver

 Nguyen has many cousins. I have met quite a few of them.

One cousin we met last month came from Denver.  I met him once 27 years ago when he came over to our apartment in Northridge, LA. He came with his wife and a young child, the same age as my son. 

Arrived in the US almost at the same time as me; he is financially successful, as he has worked hard seven days per week for the last 27 years.

Even working hard, ironically, he and his wife divorced 14 years ago due to financial problems.

He had to move out of his wife’s family house. He rents a small room. He shares with others and continues to work. He would work harder after his divorce to pay off the business debt, and because he had nothing else to do.

He works as a jeweler or goldsmith, as his specialty is working with gold and diamonds to create fine jewelry. He is skillful and gradually became senior staff in his company. Per him, he learned to make jewelry back in Hue, Vietnam. With over 30 years of experience, he is marketable and wanted.

This time he came to Seattle to try out for another Vietnamese- run-  company in Tacoma. 

We met at my place, awkwardly in conversation that made everyone uncomfortable because we had not seen each other for such a long time.

He and my husband are not sociable, and they did not have much to say to each other. My husband has two interesting things in his life: cars and his children's swimming.

The cousin's interest is his job and how to put diamond into a ring without breaking the diamond. He said, if you break the diamond twice in a year, you would be let go. He would never break the diamond. So he is one of the few staff who could do this task. 

To spend a whole sunday together politely and stay as far away from being awkward as possible,  we ended up talking about Vietnam, Hue, family past, and of course the family trauma as well.

This cousin is the oldest grandson in Nguyen‘s maternal family.

I will call him Mr. Denver.  

Mr. Denver‘s father is the oldest son of Nguyen's grandfather. Nguyen called him Cau Tam. 

I shared three stories below.

First story: A wife who left the family 

Before 1975, Cau Tam joined the South Army, moved up to his ranking until he got injured in the battle field that left his left ear impaired.  As a result, he resigned from the South Army before 1975. 

His wife was Mo Yen. She was a charm. She was an extraordinarily beautiful lady from the South. They met when Cau Tam’s station was based in My Tho, down South. Mo Yen followed her husband to Hue. Together, they had six children. Then, after 1975, things changed as the old regime collapsed on April 30. 

Cau Tam did not have a job. He moved his family to Sai Gon to live with Nguyen’s family. Mo Yen had to get out of the house to hustle for money. She sold coffee. With 6 small children, ranging from 6 years old to 1 month old, Cau Tam and Mo Yen would have a difficult time taking care of the whole family. She was out of the house more often and finally fell romantically for a coach driver from the South and left her husband with the 6 children behind. 

Cau Tam turned mad, hopelessly looking for his wife. 

My mother- in -law shared that every trip he went down South to look for his wife, she sent 5-year-old little Nguyen to go with Cau Tam. Mother said doing so to calm Cau Tam, so he would take care of little Nguyen and would not think about committing suicide. 

Mo Yen left and did not come back. In despair,  Cau Tam brought the whole family back to Hue. 

Nguyen’s grandmother told me,” He [ cau Tam] got home. He told me that if I did not take care of his 6 children, he would poison him and all the children. He did not have any choices.”

 

 Nguyen’s grandmother added,” When he said so, I did not have any choice; I had to take on caring for all of them.” 

Mr. Denver is the oldest child in the family. He would have witnessed everything that happened. 

He would had yelled/screamed and insulted when adults got mad at each other in the family. They would call his mother’s name as slut and whore. 

His father did not do anything much. He was totally financially dependent on his parents ( Nguyen’s grandparents)  and later on, his younger sister ( Nguyen’s mother), who was already in the US and sent money monthly to help out.

Second story: Why Nguyen’s maternal grandpa decided to become a monk

Nguyen’s grandfather became a monk when he was 35 years old. 

Nguyen’s grandfather owned a workshop to make coffins. He himself was a skillful carpenter. When his mother passed away, Nguyen's grandfather was sad and depressed for a long time. 

Nguyen’s mother told me that he felt guilty about earning money by making coffins, so he stopped and became a monk. 

Mr. Denver told me a different story.

Nguyen’s grandfather had one younger brother, On Van, who went to the North and became a high-ranking communist in the North. During the French resistance period, On Van got recruited by Vietminh and became a spy. He secretly came out at night to kill French soldiers, Mr. Denver recalled. 

When On Van left the South to the North, the South police arrested Nguyen’s Grandfather. They tortured him by hanging him upside down to interrogate his younger brother’s whereabouts. 

Mr. Denver said, "Luckily, Grandfather had another brother who was in a high-ranking position in the South. That brother was in the Navy. Thanks to that brother bailing him out, Grandfather was free".

After the torture, Grandfather was traumatized. He decided to give up his life as a shop owner and as a carpenter who made coffins. He gave three houses all up to his wife, Grandma, to take care of. He became a monk with the hope that both political forces would leave him alone.

The Navy brother escaped the country in 1975 when the Communists took over and moved to the US. He lived in Virginia. When he passed away, Mr. Denver went to the funeral.

As this author shared in a previous entry, On Van came back to the South and became a chief of the Communist police. He helped Nguyen’s family to get an exit visa that allowed the family to leave Vietnam to the US. 

Nguyen’s grandfather became a monk at 35 years old until he passed away of 90 years old.

As devout Buddhist, Nguyen’s mother often sent money back to Vietnam, asking Grandfather to distribute it to the Buddhist Temple around Hue. 

Mr. Denver shared, “ Every time we received the money from Aunt Hoa ( Nguyen’s mother ), we had to distribute the money to 36 temples. I was the oldest child at that time. I had to ride on a motorbike carrying my grandfather on the back. We drove to each Temple to donate the money. The trip would take few days to complete. I witnessed monks and nuns not doing much inside the temple except receiving the money. It was nonsensical. I know that my aunt worked hard in the US. She should have to save money for her children, for herself instead of continuing to send money back like this.”

Mr. Denver added, “ I realized that my grandfather practiced Buddhism not the right way or all wrong. He woke up at 3 AM in the morning to do his chanting. Each chanting would last 2 hr.  When he chanted with the ringing bell, I could not sleep. I was tired. After two hours, I could not go back to sleep because I had to get ready for school.”

 “ When I had gone away, I would never want to go back to my childhood house. It was just so sad to relive.”

“ As a teenager, I had read all of the Buddhist books I found from the bookshelf at home. I knew Buddhism firsthand. I did not agree with my grandfather's practice of Buddhism."

“ I would never want to visit a Vietnamese Temple /pagoda. I would never want to give them money. I work hard. I  save. I spend my money frugally. It does not make sense to spend your hard work earning to useless people at the temple.” 

Third story: Grandmother is mean 

Per Mr. Denver, “ My grandfather was difficult but I think my grandmother was more difficult. Grandmother had to take care of everyone when Grandfather decided to become a monk.” 

“ One stopped working; another one had to become a hustler. She let people borrow money and collected high interest in return.”

She took control of her daughter’s life and made the decision of who married whom. 

The first daughter, Di Hong, got slapped on the face on her wedding day because she did things that Grandmother did not like.

Grandmother forced her youngest daughter, Di Hao, to marry a man who lived in the Temple as an orphan, chu Loi. During the student movement protest against the old regime government, he was shot in the leg and became disabled. Not sure why Grandmother let her youngest daughter marry a disabled man.

Mr. Denver explained, "Chu Loi knew how to talk sweet to my grandparents.”

Obviously, the marriage was not a happy one. Chu Loi has become an alcoholic who is drinking every night. Di Hao stayed silent. She moved to stay with a daughter and granddaughter in Sai Gon. She sucked it all in and did not say a word.

Mr. Denver said, " my grandmother was so difficult. I wonder why my mother left the family for another man.” “ When my mother had to live with a mean mother- in-law and had no support from her husband, of course she would leave. She would run away from that life, ” “ 6 small children would not be enough for her to stay, I guess.” Mr. Denver concluded his stories with a gentle smile on his face. I could see Cau Tam’s similar face and smile.

Gentle, quiet, surrender with no emotion.

As for me, this author, I recalled Nguyen‘s grandmother was a tough lady. She drank French whiskey and smoked handmade tobacco leaves rolled with thin white rice paper.

Alone.

Smoking was her therapeutic activity when she did not have to hustle to take care of over 20 people in the family. 

When she worked, she managed the family business. She made small eggplants fermented with small fish to sell. She would never have believed in a banking system with paper bank notes. She collected gold and buried all of it in a secret well behind the backyard.

Turned out she was right about not trusting the bank, as after 1975, the newly communist government changed its banknotes at least 2 times. People who held cash would lose all their money. Gold stayed solidly with its intrinsic value. That's how she took care of her family of 20 and overcame the difficult time after 1975.

 Faithfully, she would get up at 3 AM in the morning to chant along with her monk husband, day and night until he passed away. She would prepare her own coffin and save up money so, “After I die, I have money for my own funeral. I would not be a burden."  

“ Grandmother survived her beloved daughter, Nguyen’s mother, who passed away in 2005. Grandmother received the urn of her daughter’s remains from Nguyen’s father and stayed absolutely quiet when Nguyen’s father said, “ I bring your daughter back and return her to you.” 

Grandmother withdrew to her room and stayed there for a long time. Not crying. Not saying a word. She held the funeral for her daughter with grace and toughness. 

Besides trauma and a sad past, Mr. Denver has a promisingly cheerful story when he mentioned his first/ex and (maybe) only wife. 

I started to date my wife when we were in high school. My father and her father knew each other when both were in the Army.

 She and her family left for the US. I waited for her for 10 years. She came back to marry me and then sponsored me to the US with her.

We were successful. We bought a house. We bought a license for her traveling business.  I did not take care of the business because I trusted her. She messed it all up. And her family blamed me. I could not stand her family; I had to move out and divorce my wife. 

Besides the money problem, I do not think we have any problems. We still co- parent the children. We still talk to each other.

Last time when I moved to Houston to work, I proposed buying a house and invited her to move in. She said Houston is too hot. She would rather stay in Denver. That's why I came back to Denver. Yes, Houston is too hot. 

She lives with her aging mother now. 

Mr. Denver’s eyes lit up with joy when reminded of his(ex) wife. 

My heart squeezed with warm thoughts.

They may get back together in the future after she has done her " filial piety" business with her family.

I told Nguyen. He nodded.  

Yes. I think so too.