Remembering one Vietnam veteran, my dad

And my complicated relationship with him

Veteran’s Day was three days ago and my dad would be annoyed I was late to writing about it. I grew up on military time, and I’m not talking about telling time on a 24-hour clock. We were militant on never being late, so that meant we were 5 or more minutes early to everything. 

We were early to school. We were early to church so we could get first dibs on our favorite parking spot way back on the left but the lot was nearly empty. We were early to fish, waking up way before the sun was ready to join the sky. My sisters and I never slept in, always had to wake early. I remember cringing at arriving early to family parties because they were hosted by Filipinos, who, if you’ve heard the stereotype, are late to everything. Except my dad! If you invited the Jucars to your party and you were running late, expect we’ll be there to watch you hide all your crap in your closets, do a final sweep of your house, and set up the food.

I hated this about us growing up. But now that I’m an adult, I can appreciate the sign of respect for being on time. Wherever my dad is in the universe or in the afterlife, he can go ahead and say, I told you so!

My dad died in 2008 and I look back at a lot of things he used to instill in us that would bug me so much but I get it now. I had a complicated relationship with my dad. He was a man of few words yet packed in a punch of anger more often than I’d like. He was tough on me and my sisters. He had high expectations because he wanted us to be our best. He pushed the importance of a good education and having common sense. He taught us that we need to be strong, especially as women, and that we had to hold our own. 

Dad served in the military for 20 years, and fought in the Vietnam War. He served with United States Naval Construction Battalions, the Navy Seabees; the U.S. Naval Construction Force (NCF). 

I think the war changed him, like it did for so many. 

The Navy was Dad’s plan B. Dad ultimately wanted to go to college in the Philippines but his parents could only afford his sister to attend. He then enlisted, a great option for Filipinos in search of opportunity in the US, and to pursue the American Dream. When I think of him fighting in Vietnam, I wonder what it was like to join the military and fight for a country that you were not born from. What was it like to fight in a country whose landscape looks more similar to your home country than the one you’re fighting for, against people whose skin color is more similar to yours than the country you’re fighting for?

I wonder about all these things but that’s all I can do. I remember being a curious girl, often asking him about the war. Each time the conversation was quickly stopped or the subject was changed. 

Was his time in war a reason he was often angry or shut down from us? Maybe. 

But there are so many aspects of my dad’s time in the military that I do not need to wonder.

The Navy afforded us a hell of a lot. It helped pay for my college. It let my dad see the world. It gave my parents the ability to petition for family living in the Philippines to live, work, and become citizens here. It gave us good memories as a family, like weekends shopping tax free at the Commissary. It was fun stories my dad could share with us, like when he spent 6 months maintaining McMurdo Station in Antarctica in way below zero temps with zero visibility and how he would quickly chill beers by placing them in the snow for a few minutes. It taught me the art of a 2 minute shower; if it was good enough for the Navy, it was good enough for a girl in the 90s during a California drought. And, of course, it taught me how to be on time, or at least strive for it. 

To my dad, wherever you are, thanks for your service. And to my friends, family, and other readers who got this far to read, if you have an opportunity to ask a veteran about what their service afforded them, I recommend you ask. You might learn more about them and better appreciate what they fought for.