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I pressed my face against the glass shielding the ice cream from yearning for people like me as I questioned which flavors to buy. There was vanilla, chocolate, mint, coffee, and, not to mention, all the different toppings available at the next station – which of these would I choose? I turned to my dad and asked for his opinion, to which he simply responded: “I’m treating you, so pick what you want”. Once again, I was burdened with the freedom of choice.
Choice – even provided before the ice cream shop’s employees – was not the freedom that my dad was familiar with until approximately twenty-five years ago. My dad grew up in a small Vietnamese village that was still experiencing the lingering effects of the Vietnam War. The freedom of choice was taken from him at a young age as the harsh policies of the victorious communist regime commanded his family’s way of life. Living in poverty, as most other Vietnamese people did after the war, he had no choice but to work long hours doing odd jobs alongside my grandfather. At the early age of twelve, he has introduced to grueling work anywhere from in the rice fields to the lumber forests, and every day was a struggle to get food onto the table for his younger siblings. Even simple opportunities – such as having an education – were luxuries to my dad.
The astounding part of my dad’s story isn’t, however, founded in the hardships he faced during his childhood, but rather in his endeavor past those hardships. While most sixteen-year-olds are beginning to drive their first car, my dad was journeying across the Pacific Ocean on a cramped ‘escape boat’ with a few dozen other refugees. With him on the miraculous journey were only two things: my grandfather and the knowledge that he could die at sea at any particular moment. Yet, despite the many obstacles that my dad encountered along the way, many decades later, I can proudly say that he was successful in his journey across the Pacific Ocean. I can also say that despite the choices that were taken away from him, he was able to look past and find a home for his future children so that they didn’t have to say the same.
My life thus far has been distinctly different from my dad’s. In America, there are so many opportunities available to me that the freedom of choice can become a problem. I can find myself standing in the ice cream shop not knowing which flavors I want, where these simple treats were rare to my dad. I can aspire to go to schools like the University of Virginia and pursue majors in Business or Art or Medicine. Most importantly, I can dream of studying Law and Public Policy so that I can guarantee children will never experience the same things that my dad had to. He could never even begin to think about school, but he wanted to make sure that these problems would never exist for me. For this, I will forever be indebted to my dad.
I have an obligation to my dad. He has never been the one to force me into anything, yet I believe that it is my responsibility to live out the life that he couldn’t. For over seventeen years, my dad has supported me, ultimately providing me with the power to choose my own future. I value that the University of Virginia, with its mission to develop the ideal scholar and man, nurtures this same freedom of choice for its students. I am thrilled to have the freedom to choose my own academic career while building the foundation for my future; however, as I look forward, I shall not forget the past my dad sacrificed to get me here.
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