I recently had the honor of sitting down with 93-year-old Nguyen Dam Than and his wife, Nguyen Thi Hoa, at Boom Coffee, their family-run café. I’ve known Mr. Than for many years, but I never knew his story because our interactions had previously only been nods, smiles, and handshakes (as he speaks no English and I’m not so hot in the Vietnamese speaking department). So on this particular afternoon I brought along my mini-sidekick, the precocious, verbose, budding actress, 10-year-old Dang Bao Ngan (aka Abalone), to serve as my translator.

Before I go on, you should know that I call Mr. Than “The Poet/Farmer.” You see, he has always written poetry and memoir pieces (his love for literature dating back to his childhood). He fought in the American War for two years, studied forestry in college, and went on to spend his adult life as a farmer in the Son Thanh ward of the Yen Thanh district.

Than and Hoa married in 1964 and went on to have ten children. They currently have fifty-four grandchildren and thirty-six great-grandchildren (and still counting).

“I made sure that my children went to school—I wanted them to learn, have discipline, and succeed. Despite my humble station, seven of our ten children went on to work overseas after university. I worked so that they could do better.” And they did!

What I found odd was that considering his lifelong love for nature and the fact that he only lived about 60 kilometers from Cua Lo Beach, it wasn’t until the year 2000 that he first visited the oceanside hamlet.

Mr. Than laughed. “I did not have such luxuries as trips to the beach. But in 2000, I finally came to visit and to swim. I knew instantly that it was a magical place. There was something about the air and the seaside culture. I knew right then that this was where I belonged—where my family belonged. Five months later I moved here.”

Mr. Than moved himself to Cua Lo (it wasn’t affordable to move his family). He designed and constructed a hotel (which is the current site of Boom Coffee, a billiard parlor, and a gaming center), and then his wife joined him once the hotel was completed. And one by one, at his urging, his children relocated. He promised them success in this magical place, and indeed, success soon followed (for instance, two of his sons, Van and Minh, started up the hugely successful Van Minh bus line, which runs routes daily to Hanoi and back—shuttling myriad tourists to the growing beachside hotspot).

Mr. Than sits proudly—knowingly—as he reflects. “Cua Lo is growing but maintaining its charm—it is a romantic and beautiful spot. I am surrounded by family who share my love and passion for our town. I guess I started a fire, and they keep it burning. When I was a boy, I had to walk fifteen kilometers to go to school. Now I walk fifty meters, and I am at the beach…”

{Writer’s Note: Mr. Than gifted me with a book of his poetry. It is written in Vietnamese, so I had my dear friend, Hanh Cass, translate it. I’ve chosen this particular poem for your enjoyment. It was written upon Than’s initial visit to Cua Lo!}