by Gina Williams
Vinh Ho won’t tell me his mother’s name.
“It’s bad luck to say the name of the dead,” he says. “It could bring her ghost around.”
I don’t know if this is really true in Vietnamese culture or whether it’s something he believes for himself. But he says it while we stand there. He’s not any taller than me. We’re the smallest kids in high school. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 