For many years, the Clarendon area of Arlington was known as Little Saigon because of its many Vietnamese restaurants and shops. My father-in-law Herb was famous for thinking the best restaurants were Asian because they were so cheap.
One evening we took Herb to a Vietnamese place we knew. Herb was very pleased with the menu and the prices: a full dinner was $3.95. As we were leaving Herb asked if there was a cheaper lunch menu.
“Yes, Dad. At lunch they have to pay you to eat here.”
Herb didn’t see the humor of this.

Shops on Wilson Boulevard in Little Saigon. Perry and I went often to Cafe Dalat.
Little Saigon was the Vietnamese ethnic enclave in the Clarendon neighborhood of Arlington, Virginia. It served the large refugee population that immigrated after the fall of Saigon at the end of the Vietnamese war on April 30, 1975. Like many around the country, this neighborhood near Washington, D.C., became a hub of Vietnamese commerce and social activity, and reached its peak during the late 1970s to the early 1980s.
The opening of the Clarendon station on the Washington Metro’s Orange Line led to new development, generating higher rents, and businesses closed or relocated, notably to the nearby Eden Center.
When Perry and I got engaged, Herb uncharacteristically offered to take us out to dinner to celebrate. There was a new restaurant in Georgetown called Paper Moon that we suggested, and he agreed.
Paper Moon was a pretty place decorated with pastel paints and looked very much like a New York City transplant. As we started across Key Bridge from Arlington to Georgetown, Herb began rumbling in the back seat.
“You didn’t say we were going to Yuppie Land,” he growled.
“Oh Herb,” Mal said, “Don’t start.”
Well, he did start, and he kvetched all the way to the parking space. As we walked to the front door of the restaurant, Herb got more belligerent. “What kind of place is this, anyhow?”
“It’s Italian and it’s very good,” Perry said, giving me the side-eye.
What might have been a pleasant dinner devolved into a single man slugfest: Herb against Paper Moon. He complained about everything from the décor to the menu to the final meals and the weak drinks.
Perry managed not to yell at his father, but we ultimately had to pay for the meal ourselves.
Well played, Herb.
***
At one point, Perry was working downtown at the same time as his dad. Periodically they would meet for the lunch at the Hotel Harrington where Herb’s favorite restaurant, the Pink Elephant lounge, was located.

A napkin from Herb's favorite watering hole.
Many people today don't realize that a reference
to 'pink elephants' means that a person is very,
very drunk and is seeing pink elephants.
Herb would tuck up to a martini, and say, “People think we all drink a lot at lunch, but this is one martini.”
Perry pointed out that the pitcher of alcohol that came with the first drink was actually another full serving of pure gin. In fact, Herb was drinking four stiff martinis at lunch.
One day, Perry asked what his father was working on. Herb replied that he was working on a draft of a letter. Two weeks later he still working on the same draft.
Hmmmmm. How’s that for productivity.
From Perry:
Hello, Perry here. I just wanted to add some context regarding my parents. Their love was always unconditional, even during my difficult teenage years. For example, one time I was sick in bed with the “flu.” My mother came into my room and asked me what drug I was doing. I told her I was just feeling a bit under the weather. Her response was, “No, you have to tell me. Your friend is in the intensive care unit at the hospital. He took an overdose of something and they need to know what it is.”
So I looked at her and said, “Methadone, Mom.” Even though we were not heroin addicts we had gotten ahold of some methadone. If you are not an addict it gives you a kind of high, but you also get a bit sick from it. My friend had gotten up in the middle of the night and unwittingly taken an overdose.
There are numerous examples of my parents’ tolerant and forgiving natures.
Also, they taught me that caring for one another is more important than material wealth. I am very fortunate to have had them for parents. If I have a good moral compass it is because of them. I’m glad they saw me grow into a functioning adult.
There is no doubt that my parents did have an eccentric side to them. For example, my father used to mow the lawn wearing a tie. People would actually stop their cars and stare when they saw him. I’m sure that today he would be an Internet sensation. I wish he had been around for the rise of social media. As Kristin has mentioned he liked to goad people into arguments, and he would have had a grand time debating folks from all walks of life and from around the world.
This reminds me of another story about my dad. Towards the end of his life, I didn’t know exactly when he would die, but I figured the time was getting close. I decided I would listen to his arguments on whatever topic and nod my head in agreement. The truth is, I didn’t even know what I was nodding about half the time. I kind of tuned him out in case he hit on something I was particularly passionate about.
After he died I was talking to my mom. I told her about the promise I made to myself that I would listen to Dad and affirm whatever position he had taken.
“Oh, goodness,” she said, surprised. “He was afraid you were going deaf!”
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