After listening to this NPR segment about Operation Babylift, it made me think of my old friend, Dr. John Levinson. I met him the first year I lived in New York when he came into the antique map and print gallery I was working at.
While trying to sell him two Ortelius and Blaeu maps, I asked him if he had traveled much. I must admit, while I was initially more interested in making the big sale and closing the deal, I became intrigued when he explained how he had traveled extensively throughout Southeast Asia and had spent 7 years doing volunteer surgery in South Vietnam. I was immediately floored when he said the name of the hospital where he worked which was the Tu Du Maternity Hospital in Saigon, which according to my adoption records, was the name of the hospital where I was born. Upon telling him that, he curiously lifted up my chin and turned my face from side to side and replied, "Funny, you don't really "look" Vietnamese..." but went on to say, "well aren't you a lucky young lady. "
According to my records, I was born two months premature. And unlike many of the other Vietnamese adoptees who were found alongside the road or in the woods or left in orphanages, I was fortunate enough to have been born in the Tu Du Maternity Hospital where according to Dr. Levinson, was the only hospital in all of South Vietnam to have had neonatal incubators.
Dr. Levinson immediately, in one fell swoop, filled me in on the fact that I was born on the 3rd floor and delivered by a Vietnamese mid-wife. He explained that Vietnamese mid-wives have been documented in the United Nations as being among the best mid-wives in the world. The room I was born in was in the shape of a semi-circle and that there were six birthing stations, each divided by a curtain. He also described the rest of the layout of the hospital and spoke about the floor he worked on performing surgeries during his time there at the end of the Vietnam War.
Needless to say, I was completely amazed, shocked and taken aback. With the fall of South Vietnam and the near nightmare confusion as to which plane
I was put on, (the first plane crashed and only ?? babies survived), for me, the story of my "birth" was the day my father first saw me being carried off the airlift plane in Chicago. There was a procession of nursemaids walking in a single file line across the runway, each carrying a baby wrapped in a red blanket. While all the other babies were screaming and crying, according to the way my father tells the story, I was the only baby that wasn't crying, eyes wide open, taking it all in and who reached out my hands towards him when they called out his name to come get me.
It never occurred to me how a piece of my history was missing and that I lacked the knowledge of what the hospital looked like where I was born or how I was delivered. My "hospital" was that plane and my "doctor" was that nursemaid who handed me off to my father. It wasn't until Dr. Levinson started telling me about Saigon and how he, with his work and correspondence with Senator Edward Kennedy, became one of the main advocates for helping to rescue all of these orphaned war babies, that my curiosity was even piqued.
Over the next several years, Dr. Levinson and I exchanged many photos, newspaper clippings and letters. He was so kind to share with me original slides he had taken of the Tu Du Maternity hospital and photos of several of the nurse mid-wives who had worked there too. He also sent me copies of articles he had written about the Vietnam War detailing stories about the boat people and how his efforts helped make way for the Baby Airlift.
We also shared stories about our families, him often speaking of his son who had followed in his footsteps into medicine and also of the many vacations he and his wife had adventured on, traveling out West to visit his daughter and catching up with his other son who was traveling abroad. One Christmas he called to wish me Happy Holidays and I told him how I was preparing to roast a goose. He shared several of his wild goose hunting stories and his recipe on the best way to fillet and grill the breast.
In a way, Dr. Levinson had become like a surrogate grandfather of sorts to me. He took a genuine interest in my well being and the lives of my family and friends. When my boyfriend at the time was in the middle of applying to Medical Schools, but was getting a bit discouraged because of the fierce competition and the fact that he had taken some time to work in the research field after undergrad, Dr. Levinson generously offered to help review his records and put in a good word for him at Thomas Jefferson Medical School where he was an Honorary Professor. He related a story that he too had struggled with getting into Medical school the first go around. Apparently Levinson had initially been turned down by Jefferson when he first applied to the program all those years ago, but alas he insisted on a meeting with the head of admissions and convinced them to accept him into the program as he declared that he knew he was going to make a great doctor one day. Considering we were nearly strangers, it was incredible how supportive and encouraging Dr. Levinson was with me and those also close to me. His confidence with everything he spoke about was most certainly awe inspiring.
While I hadn’t been in touch with Dr. Levinson in the last few years , I was saddened to come across this article about his passing just this past fall. I had gone online earlier today in hopes of locating his address so I could share the NPR article with him and get his opinion on what he thought of it's criticism on the Baby Airlift, but found his prolific obituary in The New York Times instead.
While trying to sell him two Ortelius and Blaeu maps, I asked him if he had traveled much. I must admit, while I was initially more interested in making the big sale and closing the deal, I became intrigued when he explained how he had traveled extensively throughout Southeast Asia and had spent 7 years doing volunteer surgery in South Vietnam. I was immediately floored when he said the name of the hospital where he worked which was the Tu Du Maternity Hospital in Saigon, which according to my adoption records, was the name of the hospital where I was born. Upon telling him that, he curiously lifted up my chin and turned my face from side to side and replied, "Funny, you don't really "look" Vietnamese..." but went on to say, "well aren't you a lucky young lady. "
According to my records, I was born two months premature. And unlike many of the other Vietnamese adoptees who were found alongside the road or in the woods or left in orphanages, I was fortunate enough to have been born in the Tu Du Maternity Hospital where according to Dr. Levinson, was the only hospital in all of South Vietnam to have had neonatal incubators.
Dr. Levinson immediately, in one fell swoop, filled me in on the fact that I was born on the 3rd floor and delivered by a Vietnamese mid-wife. He explained that Vietnamese mid-wives have been documented in the United Nations as being among the best mid-wives in the world. The room I was born in was in the shape of a semi-circle and that there were six birthing stations, each divided by a curtain. He also described the rest of the layout of the hospital and spoke about the floor he worked on performing surgeries during his time there at the end of the Vietnam War.
Needless to say, I was completely amazed, shocked and taken aback. With the fall of South Vietnam and the near nightmare confusion as to which plane
I was put on, (the first plane crashed and only It never occurred to me how a piece of my history was missing and that I lacked the knowledge of what the hospital looked like where I was born or how I was delivered. My "hospital" was that plane and my "doctor" was that nursemaid who handed me off to my father. It wasn't until Dr. Levinson started telling me about Saigon and how he, with his work and correspondence with Senator Edward Kennedy, became one of the main advocates for helping to rescue all of these orphaned war babies, that my curiosity was even piqued.
Over the next several years, Dr. Levinson and I exchanged many photos, newspaper clippings and letters. He was so kind to share with me original slides he had taken of the Tu Du Maternity hospital and photos of several of the nurse mid-wives who had worked there too. He also sent me copies of articles he had written about the Vietnam War detailing stories about the boat people and how his efforts helped make way for the Baby Airlift.
We also shared stories about our families, him often speaking of his son who had followed in his footsteps into medicine and also of the many vacations he and his wife had adventured on, traveling out West to visit his daughter and catching up with his other son who was traveling abroad. One Christmas he called to wish me Happy Holidays and I told him how I was preparing to roast a goose. He shared several of his wild goose hunting stories and his recipe on the best way to fillet and grill the breast.
In a way, Dr. Levinson had become like a surrogate grandfather of sorts to me. He took a genuine interest in my well being and the lives of my family and friends. When my boyfriend at the time was in the middle of applying to Medical Schools, but was getting a bit discouraged because of the fierce competition and the fact that he had taken some time to work in the research field after undergrad, Dr. Levinson generously offered to help review his records and put in a good word for him at Thomas Jefferson Medical School where he was an Honorary Professor. He related a story that he too had struggled with getting into Medical school the first go around. Apparently Levinson had initially been turned down by Jefferson when he first applied to the program all those years ago, but alas he insisted on a meeting with the head of admissions and convinced them to accept him into the program as he declared that he knew he was going to make a great doctor one day. Considering we were nearly strangers, it was incredible how supportive and encouraging Dr. Levinson was with me and those also close to me. His confidence with everything he spoke about was most certainly awe inspiring.
While I hadn’t been in touch with Dr. Levinson in the last few years , I was saddened to come across this article about his passing just this past fall. I had gone online earlier today in hopes of locating his address so I could share the NPR article with him and get his opinion on what he thought of it's criticism on the Baby Airlift, but found his prolific obituary in The New York Times instead.
Although we never got to visit again in person, the profound affect Dr. Levinson has had on my life will forever remain very special to me. Considering all the stories I’ve heard over the years about the lack of knowledge, history and background involving so many of the other Vietnamese adoptees and the dramatic effects it has had on each of their lives and identities, fortunately for me, this was never an issue. While Dr. Levinson helped fill me in on my life's initial beginnings, this story and our friendship was most serendipitous.
With fond memories and heartfelt respect to Dr. John Levinson, "until we meet again my friend."
***********************
JOHN LEVINSON
LEVINSON--John M., M.D., of Rockland, DE and Kennedyville, MD died on October 4, 2009 at the age of 82. While he was a practicing physician and very active in the Delaware community for nearly sixty years, he may be remembered best for his pioneering medical and humanitarian work around the globe, most notably for his efforts with wartime refugees and civilians in Southeast Asia, Afghanistan, and Nicaragua. Born in Atlantic City, NJ, he enlisted in the U.S. Navy at the age of 17. He graduated from Lafayette College and Jefferson Medical College. He later served as a colonel in the USAF Reserve during the Cold War. An obstetrician-gynecologist, Dr. Levinson made his first of 26 trips to Southeast Asia in 1963. He taught surgery at the University of Saigon, worked in small jungle hospitals, and wrote the first paper in American medical literature on Medicine in South Vietnam. Dr. Levinson was among the first to assist provincial hospitals, establishing Volunteer Physicians in Vietnam. In 1971, he initiated laparoscopic surgery in Delaware and in 1979 performed the first laparoscopic surgery in China, returning later as an official guest of the Chinese Ministry of Health to establish clinics. As guests of the Kingdom of Bhutan, Dr. Levinson and Aid for International Medicine (AIM), in conjunction with The Explorers Club, retrained their basic health workers. He established the first ob/gyn surgical unit for the Afghanistan freedom fighters in 1986. Dr. Levinson was the founder of AIM, an organization that has provided millions of dollars of aid to the developing world. As its president he accepted the Dept. of State's A.I.D. Commendation from President Richard Nixon in 1971 and the Eisenhower Award, presented by People to People International "for significant contribution to the advancement of international understanding." From 1967 onward, he was a medical consultant to the US Senate, working closely with Senator Edward M. Kennedy as well as testifying six times before Senate committees and the Veterans Administration on health issues. For over 40 years he was a member of the Explorers Club, serving as president from 1985 to 1987. He was also a Rotarian, organizing the first Rotary meeting held at the North Pole. He served on countless boards, most notably The Explorers Club, The Royal Geographical Society of London, the World Affairs Council of Wilmington, Planned Parenthood, Blue Cross and Blue Shield and the State of Delaware's Board of Professional Responsibility. Having served as the ship's surgeon on numerous US and Russian tours to the Arctic and Antarctica, he organized and chaired the world's first conference on polar medicine. In 2007 he became the fourth Delawarean to receive the prestigious Ellis Island Medal of Honor--preceded by Vice President Joe Biden; Louis French, the former director of the FBI; and Ned Carpenter, a distinguished American and legal scholar. The Explorers Club honored him "for outstanding contributions to third world medicine." The Rotary Club of Wilmington gave him their distinguished service award twice and the Medical Society of Delaware gave him a special citation for his charitable service. Because of his international teaching, Jefferson Medical College gave him the singular honor of elevating him to Honorary Professor of Obstetrics and Gynecology. Dr. Levinson lectured on five continents and did medical work on all seven. He published 31 medical papers, edited two medical texts and authored a book on shorebird decoys. He enjoyed sailing, the tranquility of the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and carving wildfowl decoys. He is survived by his wife of 54 years, Elizabeth Carl Bell; his daughter, Patricia Anne, and her two daughters of Mountain View, CA; his son, John Carl, and his wife, Ellen, and their two sons of Southport, CT; and his son, Mark Jay, and his wife, Frances, and their three daughters of Double Bay, Australia. Private services will be held at a later date. In lieu of flowers, the family suggests donations to his current favorite charities: Doctors Without Borders (doctorswithoutborders.com or 1-888-392-0392) or The Chesapeake Bay Foundation (cbf.org or 1-410-268-8816). Services by Chandler Funeral Homes & Crematory. www. chandlerfuneralhome.com
Published in The New York Times on October 11, 2009
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