Dad’s Chiang Mai Memoir

My father has asked me to beta read his memoirs of our time in Chiang Mai in northern Thailand.  We spent a little over three very happy years there.  We lived inside a giant, walled consular compound because my father was the Consoon American, the American Consul.

Bouginvillea crawled over the latticework of the carport in the front of the house and up to the balcony above.  My brother and I shared a horse, Sri Mantana, who had her stable in one of the side yards.  Lumyai trees in the side yards gave us sweet fruit, and frangipani trees lined the wall that faced the river.  A couple years ago I found a frangipani tree growing in one of those garden alleys between museums on DC’s mall, and it took me back in a big way.  Madeleines have nothing on frangipani.

Dad’s memoirs have been evoking all sorts of flashbacks, even though the manuscript itself is mostly about the geopolitics of north Thailand during the Vietnam War.   The memoirs are also full of the stories he would tell at the dinner table and has re-told in the years since.  I know why his manuscript’s casual mention of keeping rabies vaccine in the refrigerator at the consulate will matter later when I come to that part.  I don’t know why the carpenter kept a spare coffin on hand.  I guess I’ll find out.

I remember him telling us about a Karen man who’d finally been let out of a Burmese prison and came to Chiang Mai to declare war on the United States.  I knew the radar station on Doi Inthanon mattered for some reason.  I remember about what the butler was growing in back of his house.  I didn’t even know what an interesting time we were having.  It was just what Dad did at work.

My mother’s role was important.  When she married him, her performance was part of his annual job review.  The spouse’s participation in volunteer and outreach activities had its own portion on the official form.  It was called Two for the Price of One.  Times are different now, that’s for sure.

He’s writing the memoir as a letter to his grandchildren.  My parents had three children and we’ve each had two, so there’s six in all. I hope they like it.  I’m finding it fascinating.

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