All posts tagged: Soudary Kittivong-Greenbaum

“For Mae Tow” by Soudary Kittivong-Greenbaum

when i picture you, you are 52. lips deep, bright plum skin patted smooth by powder jet black hair shaped by pink cushion curlers the night before. you are decorated in your finest gold. necklace. rings. earrings. sinh,  matching hand sewn top, after your shifts at the dealership the cleaning lady, now, ready for the party. you dress me, cure a high bun on my head, the same that you lift once set, and exclaim with joy: “good ga-lirl” i wonder if you’d still consider me good? i’m not always polite don’t bow as you did to others. service, that’s what they call it. i don’t go to temple. don’t offer alms, or truck kow to the sick, or for boun at Wat Lao, Wat Thai, Wat Khmer. you used to visit them all, every week. only you. everyone loved your smile. a diplomat’s for sure. laughing from the gut. you were a saint. didn’t discriminate for souls, only for those that took, and even then, you might have bent. — i wonder how would you like hearing your …

Your Statistic, My Loved One: Child Leukemia In Our Community

This is the latest op-ed submitted by Soudary Kittivong-Greenbaum.  About every three minutes, one person in the U.S. is diagnosed with a blood cancer. Meaning, last year, roughly 156,420 people in the U.S. were diagnosed with leukemia, lymphoma or myeloma. According to the American Cancer Society, leukemia is the most common cancers in kids and teens, but child leukemia is considered rare. To me, it’s one child too prevalent. Last month, Immanuel, my younger cousin’s child, was diagnosed with leukemia. He is seven. Immanuel lives in my hometown in Alaska. He loves his little sister, and his mom and dad. Loves playing with play doh, and anything related to cars. He moved to a new school this year. It’s hard to think of what’s ahead and not feel a weight for him. I first met Immanuel when he was just six months, on a visit back to Anchorage. This was a few years before I had my own child. My cousin Jenny held him up under each of his arms, handing him to me, his arms …