Commentary: My dad embraced danger to save his life

Nghia Tran, right, and his two brothers in the Hong Kong refugee camp in 1978. | Courtesy Selina Tran As a child in Salt Lake City, I’d bring artwork and Father’s Day cards home from school, and my dad always said “good job!” But soon I’d find them crumpled in the trash. I was so disappointed.

It wasn’t until years later when I learned more about his life in Vietnam and his harrowing escape that I understood why my dad easily let go of material things.

He remembers digging bomb shelters and hiding in them as routine grade school activities. As a teenager, he sold cigarettes on the street to help feed the family. The Vietnamese-American War began a year after his birth and, when the war ended…