[Congressional Record Volume 171, Number 72 (Wednesday, April 30, 2025)]
[House]
[Pages H1731-H1732]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




               HONORING PHI NGUYEN AND THE AMERICAN DREAM

  (Mr. Womack of Arkansas was recognized to address the House for 5 
minutes.)
  Mr. WOMACK. Mr. Speaker, 50 years ago today, the capital of South 
Vietnam, Saigon, fell to advancing North Vietnamese forces. The 
collapse of the anti-Communist South Vietnamese Government marked both 
the end of a decades-long conflict and the beginning of a painful 
chapter for millions of South Vietnamese people.
  As the North Vietnamese Army launched its final offensive into 
Saigon, fear and uncertainty gripped the city. For countless South 
Vietnamese, the Fall of Saigon was not only the loss of their capital, 
but it was the loss of their country, their dreams, and, for many, 
their safety. Having allied with and supported the United States in the 
fight for a free republic, they now faced the terrifying prospect of 
persecution or worse.
  Among the individuals was a young boy named Phi Nguyen, whose story I 
have the privilege of sharing with you today, Mr. Speaker. Phi is the 
second-born child of parents Dung Nguyen and Diem Le Do. Notably, his 
father worked as a newspaper cartoonist whose art illustrated the 
complex political dynamics in Vietnam during the war, which is 
preserved in the Library of Congress today.
  In the final days of April 1975, Phi was 8. His older sister, Mien, 
was 10, and his younger brother, Thuc, was just 6.
  With the fate of Saigon hanging in the balance on April 28, 1975, 
Phi's family raced to Tan Son Nhut Air Base for a chance to escape. 
This would not be an easy task. The airbase had already been heavily 
bombed in the days before, causing severe damage to its runways and 
planes. As the North Vietnamese Army closed in, they were actively 
launching rockets and artillery, even as desperate families attempted 
to flee.
  Yet, in the dead of night, after two planes ahead of them were shot 
down, the Nguyen family boarded what would become the last fixed-wing 
aircraft to depart Tan Son Nhut. Their escape was harrowing, but their 
journey toward freedom, safety, and hope had just begun.
  Mr. Speaker, I can only imagine the mixed feelings of relief and 
heartbreak they felt as the plane left Vietnamese airspace, finally 
touching down at Clark Air Base in the Philippines. From there, they 
were transported to Guam and eventually to Camp Pendleton in 
California, a place known then as Tent City, which saw more than 50,000 
Vietnamese refugees who awaited new lives and new homes.
  After 3 months at Camp Pendleton, the Nguyen family received a life-
changing letter. A Lutheran church in Shavertown, Pennsylvania, had 
offered to sponsor them. So, they made another journey, this time 
across the U.S., to begin again in an unfamiliar place, adjusting to a 
new climate and embracing an entirely new culture.
  After 2 years in Pennsylvania, they relocated to Virginia in 1978, 
where Phi and his family have lived ever since. The Nguyen family even 
welcomed a new family member, their youngest daughter, Mai-An.
  So, Mr. Speaker, why am I standing here on the floor of this House 
sharing the story of this family? This story could be about any of the 
Vietnamese families who found freedom in the United States. Here is 
why, and he is sitting right in front of me.
  From this family came someone many of us recognize and know 
professionally, but maybe not personally, a man who has spent nearly 
four decades serving as a photographer in the Halls of this House, and 
that man is Phi Nguyen.
  In 1986, Phi began working for the Senate Photo Studio, where he 
would spend the next 15 years capturing history through his lens. Then, 
in 2002, he transferred to the House Photographer's Office, a role in 
which I have had the distinct pleasure of working with him many times.
  That same year, Mr. Speaker, he married his wife, Tam Nguyen, whom he 
met during the Moon Festival in Arlington, Virginia, a celebration 
marking the end of the harvest season. It was a fitting beginning to 
their relationship, one rooted in tradition and thanksgiving.
  Together, they became the proud parents of two wonderful children. 
His

[[Page H1732]]

daughter, Quynh-Chi Nguyen, is 20 years of age and attends James 
Madison University, pursuing a degree in architecture. His son, Hoai-
Viet Nguyen, is 19 years old and studying cybersecurity at George Mason 
University in Fairfax.
  Phi's story is not just one of survival. It is one of resilience, 
adaptation, and success. It is, at its heart, a multigenerational story 
of the American Dream, a dream that Phi and his father before him 
pursued with determination and faith in the promise of a better future.
  Over his nearly four decades of service to the United States Senate 
and House of Representatives, Phi has captured countless moments that 
only a photo can, and while doing so, he has also captured the hearts 
of those who know and work with him.
  Mr. Speaker, in preparation for this speech, I asked Phi: What do you 
want the listeners and the viewers to take from your story? His answer 
was simple: ``The American Dream is real, and I am evidence of that. 
You can do it, too.''
  Today, on this anniversary of a day that changed the course of 
history for millions, I want to take a moment to honor one remarkable 
individual whose life journey embodies the spirit of the American 
Dream.
  I thank Phi Nguyen. All of us who share in a professional 
relationship with him thank him for his service and commitment to 
capturing history and doing it with excellence. It is with the utmost 
sincerity that I commend Phi for his 39 years of service to this 
institution and congratulate him on one-half century of living the 
American Dream.

                          ____________________