It’s hard to believe it’s been 50 years since I left Vietnam — 50 springs, 50 winters, each one carrying me further from the life I once knew. I still remember the last moments like a photograph that never fades: the rush, the fear, the silence on the plane as we left everything behind. I was younger then, with little more than the clothes on my back and the weight of memory in my heart  — alongside my brother Thomas with ony $10 in my pocket to the destination, Minnesota.

Settling in Minnesota was not easy. The language was foreign, the winters colder than I ever imagined, and the distance — cultural, emotional, spiritual — was something no plane could bridge. But we made a life here. I worked, raised children, and built something out of the unknown. Still, I always carried Vietnam with me — in the food I cooked, the stories I told, the quiet moments when the past came rushing in.

Now, looking back after five decades, I see a Vietnam that is almost unrecognizable. Skyscrapers rise where there were once rice fields. The country has grown, prospered, transformed into a modern economy no longer marked by war or poverty. I see photos of busy cities, young people speaking fluent English, startups and smartphones. It’s no longer the “third world country” it once was.

And yet, my feelings are mixed.

Part of me swells with pride. Vietnam has endured, overcome, and stood tall on the world stage. But another part aches. I wonder what my life would have been had I stayed — what kind of person I would be in that new Vietnam. Would I belong there now? Or has time made me a stranger to the country of my birth?

I am grateful for the life I have made in America, but I am also haunted by the Vietnam I lost — and astonished by the one that rose in its place. As an expat, I live between two homes: one I helped build, and one I can only visit in dreams and headlines.

Time has a strange way of folding in on itself. One moment I am on the tennis court, racket in hand, chasing a ball like it’s the only thing that matters. Next, I’m standing in front of a classroom, guiding students through lessons that reach beyond textbooks — lessons about resilience, respect and the value of effort. Tennis keeps my body moving; teaching keeps my spirit alive. Both have been with me these past 40 years, anchoring me in this chapter of life.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of seeing your impact ripple through generations. A former student brings their son to stop by to my class and says, “You taught me — now you’ll teach my son.” That moment stays with me. I realize my work matters. I have helped build something — confidence, hope, a belief in possibility. Teaching has been more than a job; it’s been a calling. Nearly five decades now, and each lesson is still fresh with purpose.

But before any of this — before tennis, before chalkboards and Zoom calls — I was just a boy. A boy growing up near a U.S. military base, curious and wide-eyed, watching the strange, loud world of American soldiers and jeeps and radios. I remember sneaking near the fences, speaking broken English, and sometimes being handed a candy bar, a can of C-ration ham and beans, even whiskey they didn’t want. I knew all the brands of cigarettes — from Camel to Winston. I knew the brand names of whiskeys. That’s where it started — my fascination with America, with its people, with the rhythm of its language and the promise of something different.

That life feels like a distant film reel now, playing in black and white. But I carry it all with me — the noise of the base, the lessons of the classroom, the crisp thwack of a well-hit serve. These moments, scattered across decades and continents, make up the mosaic of who I am.

I am not only a refugee or a teacher, not only an athlete or a father. I am all of these at once — shaped by war, rooted in education, and still running across the court — chasing that next point, the next set, the next match, and that next life to touch.

Fifty years. So much has changed. And yet, in my heart, the old and the new Vietnam live side by side. I am grateful for the family and friends who support me in this journey and for a good life here in America.

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Francois Nguyen escaped Saigon on April 29, 1975, during the chaos leading up to the fall of the city the next day. He had witnessed the devastating Vietnam War firsthand before fleeing the country. At 19 years old, he came to the United States, sponsored by Catholic Charities, and settled in St. Paul. Today, he teaches math and statistics at Saint Paul College. He is married and has four children. In his free time, he enjoys playing tennis.

Lakers coach J.J. Redick was upset after Game 4 that no foul was called when Luka Doncic went down to the floor with 35 seconds to play in Minnesota’s 116-113 victory.

“Luka got tripped,” Redick said. “That was a blatant trip.”

The NBA confirmed the coach’s assertion in its last-two minute report released Monday, noting, “McDaniels steps forward into Doncic’s path, initiating illegal foot contact that causes him to lose his balance.”

Minnesota led by one at the time. Had a foul been called, Doncic would’ve gone to the line for two free throws. Instead, the Lakers had to call a timeout to salvage possession, and Minnesota stole the ball on the ensuing inbounds play.

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The Timberwolves trailed by 10 at the start of the fourth quarter of Game 4 on Sunday at Target Center. It’s human nature at that point for a star player to feel as though he needs to start forcing the issue to shoot his team back into the game.

And that’s exactly what Anthony Edwards did to help send Minnesota back to Los Angeles with a 3-1 series lead in their first-round playoff series against the Lakers.

For all the justified talk about how Edwards made the right plays in the final few minutes to secure Sunday’s victory, he got Minnesota back into the game thanks to old habits that delivered a spurt of sensational results.

Just 13 seconds into the fourth quarter, Edwards rose up from 28 feet to bury a lengthy triple.

The next time down, again down 10 points, he stopped and popped over a pair of Lakers defenders to hit another three. There were no passes delivered past half court on that Timberwolves possession. The same was true the next time down, when Edwards dribbled at the top of the floor before wading his way into the paint and missing a contested attempt.

Anthony Edwards #5 of the Minnesota Timberwolves celebrates the win against the Los Angeles Lakers after Game Four of the First Round of the 2025 NBA Playoffs at Target Center on April 27, 2025 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The Timberwolves defeated the Lakers 116-113 to take a 3-1 series lead. NOTE TO USER: User expressly acknowledges and agrees that, by downloading and or using this photograph, User is consenting to the terms and conditions of the Getty Images License Agreement. (Photo by David Berding/Getty Images)

Minnesota went away from Edwards to start the next possession. But after Julius Randle drew a foul, Edwards got the ball back on the ensuing out-of-bounds play. He dribbled for 13 seconds before tossing a grenade to Donte DiVincenzo at the end of the shot clock.

With just more than eight minutes to play and the Wolves down nine, Edwards again attacked from the top of the floor, this time hitting the shot he found in the middle of the paint. The next time down he dribbled the ball up the floor, took a couple of dribbles at Lakers guard Austin Reaves, then stepped back to bury a triple to bring Minnesota within four with still more than seven minutes to play.

Those four-plus minutes featured the same hero ball that at times sank the Wolves throughout the season. But, man, were they ever swimming this time.

Until the well ran dry. Edwards attempted another triple over a double team that misfired with five and a half minutes to play. Minnesota scored just seven points over a six-minute span in the frame.

Timberwolves coach Chris Finch said Edwards has grown “leaps and bounds” when it comes to finding others in late-game situations and not forcing the issue. But …

“I actually thought there were times we could’ve found each other a little bit better,” Finch said.

After Naz Reid scored five straight points, Edwards again came down the floor, isolated up top and took a tough triple try that hit off the iron. But a foul was called on Luka Doncic for hitting Edwards’ wrist, and he buried all three free throws.

The next time down, with just under three minutes to go and the Wolves up by one, Edwards dribbled down the floor, ran toward the baseline and took a tough, 20-foot stepback jumper just 10 seconds into the shot clock that hit off the front iron. Now Finch was upset.

As soon as the shot missed, the coach turned toward his bench, threw his arms up and yelled, “Why?”

Hero ball had served Minnesota well to get back into the game, just as it had in many memorable stretches in the past. But once the hot hand cools, you have to shift back to better basketball. It’s awesome to be a team’s home-run hitter, but sometimes you have to hit for contact.

Edwards hasn’t always grasped that concept. He did Sunday. That mid-range jumper was his last field goal attempt of the game.

The next time down the floor, Edwards pressed the blitzing defense and beat the two defenders to the baseline to draw a third Lakers body. Just as was the case in Game 3, when he hit Reid for an open triple, Edwards knew one of his teammates would be open on the wing.

This time, it was Donte DiVincenzo, who attacked Reaves’ closeout and got to the bucket for an and-1 layup. Two trips later, the Lakers again blitzed Edwards, who made the simple pass to a nearby Reid. Reid got into the lane and dumped it off to Jaden McDaniels, who completed an easy and-1 flush to put Minnesota on top for good.

“He just took over in the second half. Had it going,” Finch said. “Super aggressive, and I think there was only one really bad shot that he took in the last few minutes. But other than that, I thought he did a great job.”

While “Hero Ball” carries a negative connotation, Minnesota doesn’t want to completely discourage Edwards. He has to have the leash to deliver the special runs like he had at the beginning of the fourth quarter to make a comeback possible. However, those runs often don’t win you games, but rather put you in a position to do so by executing down the stretch.

Edwards is beginning to understand how to fill both roles.

“You could see it in his eyes that he was going to make the play. He was going to bring us home,” Finch said. “Now he’s hitting way more doubles and singles, and those plays are timely. He’s still being aggressive for himself, committing the defense. I think he has an understanding where the defense is going to be when he starts and when he ends his play.”

The results are showing.

“He’s been real meticulous with what he’s doing late in the games. He’s taking his time, really sizing up the defense, understanding where guys are going to be on the court, taking what’s there and available,” Wolves guard Mike Conley said. “He had the three going there for a little bit, then he started getting downhill, making plays. So just happy with him being able to seek out different matchups and take advantage.”

Anthony Edwards #5 of the Minnesota Timberwolves celebrates his basket against the Los Angeles Lakers in the fourth quarter of Game Three of the First Round of the 2025 NBA Playoffs at Target Center on April 25, 2025 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The Timberwolves defeated the Lakers 116-104 to take a 2-1 series lead. NOTE TO USER: User expressly acknowledges and agrees that, by downloading and or using this photograph, User is consenting to the terms and conditions of the Getty Images License Agreement. (Photo by David Berding/Getty Images)

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“We cannot allow proposed cuts to HUD and Section 8 to devastate our communities. These aren’t abstract budget items—they represent the homes and futures of real people we work with every day.”

NYCHA’s Polo Grounds Houses. (Adi Talwar for City Limits)

As we commemorate Fair Housing Month this April, we stand alongside thousands of public housing residents fighting for their homes and their rights. We’ve walked through aging NYCHA buildings with Community Voices Heard (CVH) Power members like Ms. Barbara, who has lived in the Polo Grounds Towers for over 20 years. She shows us the persistent leaks, the mold growing on the walls, and explains how she organizes her neighbors to demand basic repairs. Despite these challenges, she proudly calls public housing home—it’s where she raised her children.

In February, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD), alongside the new Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), terminated 78 grants in 33 states totaling more than $30 million that provided funding for fair housing organizations. Stories like Ms. Barbara’s remind us why we cannot allow proposed cuts to HUD and Section 8 to devastate our communities. These aren’t abstract budget items—they represent the homes and futures of real people we work with every day.

At Community Voices Heard Power, our members know the life-changing power of stable, affordable housing – because they’ve experienced it personally. They also know the constant anxiety of threatened funding cuts. During our monthly meetings in Harlem, Yonkers, Newburgh, and Poughkeepsie, we hear from residents like Nola, a retired senior who worked at the Department of Justice and has been a resident of public housing in Newburgh for 24 years. And from Maria, who is the President of her Tenant Association at UPACA 6 in Harlem, and has lived in public housing since 1964.

These CVH Power members aren’t just beneficiaries of housing programs—they’re powerful advocates who travel to Albany and Washington to testify about the critical importance of these investments. This year, CVH Power organized hundreds of tenants who boarded buses at dawn to make their voices heard at the state capitol. They understand that when we talk about HUD funding, we’re talking about their homes, their communities, and their lives.

The numbers behind these human stories are equally compelling. Even before potential cuts, only one in four eligible households receives federal housing assistance due to chronic underfunding. And more than half a million Americans experience homelessness on any given night. Meanwhile, rising rents and stagnant wages have created an affordability crisis – millions of families spend more than half their income on housing.

In my years as Regional Administrator for HUD in New York and New Jersey, I saw how federal programs can create pathways to opportunity, and how insufficient funding leads to nearly impossible challenges. Since my teenage years living in HUD-assisted housing, public housing has steadily declined, and I understand the urgency of prioritizing capital repair needs. I’ve sat with residents facing heating outages in the dead of winter, waiting years for basic repairs.

But I’ve also witnessed the transformation that comes with meaningful investment, where renovations not only improve living conditions but also, through Section 3, open doors to workforce development and job opportunities for residents themselves.

CVH Power members can tell you exactly what happens when funding erodes: maintenance backlogs grow, security concerns increase, and quality of life deteriorates. But they can also tell you about the pride and potential in their communities when properly supported. Public housing isn’t just shelter—it’s a foundation for education, employment, health, and community building.

Moreover, cutting housing investments is fiscally irresponsible. Every dollar invested in affordable housing generates multiple dollars in economic activity. Stable housing reduces costs in healthcare, education, and criminal justice systems. And preventing homelessness is far less expensive than addressing it after the fact.

Some argue that the private market can address housing needs without government intervention. But CVH Power members who’ve navigated the brutal private rental market in New York can tell you otherwise. Market forces alone consistently fail to produce sufficient affordable housing, particularly for those with the lowest incomes. Public investment is essential to fill this gap.

As we reflect on Fair Housing Month, we draw inspiration from CVH Power members like Millie, who has lived in Section 8 housing in Poughkeepsie for 15 years, and joined our organization to fight for her right to stay. The Fair Housing Act was enacted in the wake of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination, carrying forward his vision of a society where everyone has access to safe, decent, affordable housing. Cutting HUD funding betrays this vision and the values we claim to uphold as a nation.

We call on Congress and the administration to listen to the voices of CVH Power members and public housing residents across the country who are fighting to protect their homes. We need increased investments to address our housing crisis, not cuts. 

The fight for fair and affordable housing is a fight for human dignity, economic opportunity, and racial justice. During Fair Housing Month and beyond, let us recommit to the principle that everyone deserves a decent place to call home—and let us hold our elected officials accountable for policies that make this principle a reality.

Juanita O. Lewis is the executive director of Community Voices Heard Power. Alicka Ampry-Samuel is a former member of the NYC and former regional administrator for New York and New Jersey of the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD).

The post Opinion: This Fair Housing Month, Let’s Protect Public Housing From HUD Cuts appeared first on City Limits.