In Honor of Gary Lord
A veteran whose courage helped shape the path forward.
What Sparked the Mission
In 2009, something unexpected happened that quietly changed the course of my life — and gently shaped the mission I carry today.
I was invited to the Vietnam Veterans of America (VVA) National Convention as the author of Beyond the Rice Paddies, a memoir about my childhood in war-torn Vietnam. It was there that I met Gary Lord, President of VVA Chapter 85 in New York.
At the convention, I did a reading from one of the chapters. Afterward, Gary approached me. We sat down and talked for a while. During that conversation, something shifted — something larger than words can fully express.
Gary and I came from opposite sides of a painful history: I was a young Vietnamese girl during the war; he was a soldier who carried the weight of that war home with him. Yet in our meeting, something softened. A bridge was formed.
He began writing to me, and we kept in touch over the years.
Eventually, Gary found the courage to return to Vietnam. There, he faced the ghosts of the past — and fell in love with the people and culture. He found peace.
Later, he would write to me:
“You changed my world in many ways. Thank you so very much for the gift you left in my heart that has helped me deal with my darkest times.”
After his return, Gary discovered a VA program in Tennessee that used music therapy to support veterans coping with PTSD. There, he met Nashville songwriter Mark Elliott. Gary shared the story of a little girl he once saw standing by a fruit stand in the market of Biên Hòa, Vietnam, in 1966. That girl became the face of his war.
Decades later, he saw her again — in Louisville, Kentucky — reading aloud from a book that spoke to his heart.
Together, Gary and Mark co-wrote a song called Your Face.
In one of his emails to me, Gary wrote:
“I’m very proud of this song… it’s as much yours as mine. I wanted to share it, to help other veterans.”
Seven months after sharing the song with me, Gary tragically passed away in a motorcycle accident. His sudden death was a heartbreaking loss — to his family, his fellow veterans, and, unexpectedly, to me.
His legacy lives on — in that song, in the lives he touched, and in the moment we shared that continues to shape how I connect with others through memory and healing.
Meeting Gary reminded me that even decades after war, healing is not only possible — it’s still deeply needed. His honesty and courage inspired me to use Jasmine in the Wind not only as a memoir, but as a bridge — to reach others who carry silent wounds, and to bring the past and present together in understanding.
In Gary’s honor, I’ve committed to donating a portion of the proceeds from Jasmine in the Wind to veterans’ organizations and Buddhist orphanages in Vietnam. I believe he would have approved of this purpose.
Gary showed me how powerful one story can be — and how, when shared, it can begin to heal not just one heart, but many.
Disclaimer: The story shared here reflects my personal experience and correspondence with the late Gary Lord, whom I met at the 2009 Vietnam Veterans of America National Convention. His words and our connection inspired a chapter in my healing journey and the revision of Jasmine in the Wind. This tribute is shared with the utmost respect and gratitude. A portion of the proceeds from the book are used to support veterans’ organizations and orphanages in Vietnam, in alignment with the spirit of healing and service that Gary championed.
Linda West and Gary Lord, VVA National Convention 2009
Photograph by Michael Keating