CỎ'S WAY TO KILL TIME ON SUNDAY'S MORNING

Contemplating on fate why enjoying your favorite pacifier 

is certainly a right way to kill time on Sunday’s morning.

Hình ảnh và phụ đề : Bố San của Cỏ 

*** 

Another Narcissus? :) 

GRATITUDE AND INNER PEACE

Gratitude and inner peace go hand in hand.  The more genuinely grateful we feel for the gift of live, the more peaceful we feel.

'Don't sweat the small stuff ... and it's all small stuff' - Kristine and Dr. Richard Carlson

Chắt Chub của cụ 

shows gratitude via his big smile 

MY CREATIVE SIDE

Every person has a creative side, and it can be expressed in many ways: problem solving, original and innovative thinking, and artistically, to name a few. Describe how you express your creative side.


The best way for me to express my creative side is through cheering and motivating other people. It may sound strange, but one may be surprised of to see how difficult, and how rewarding, the simple act of passing happiness may be. To most, spreading joy is perceived as just saying “things will get better” or “cheer up”. Others find that buying a cheap card with some cute animals pictures on the cover and the words “I’m here for you” written on the inside is sufficegood enough to bringmake a spirits of any broken individual uphappy again. All of these methods are all done with good intentions, and perhaps that’s enough for many, but to me it’s just the bare minimum. The act of truly cheering someone up takes a considerable amount of intelligence, perseverance, and of course, creativity. In a way, passing happiness is one of the truest test of understanding between two individuals. Through my lens, it’s all about understanding exactly what makes that person tick and in turn and help themhim in a way that’s that is really meaningful to them. Sometimes, this can mean taking themsome  people to a special place, treating them to their favorite food, buying them a gift, having a group hangout, or,most effectively, just listening to them. We can even go deeper than this howeverHowever, it this gift really can’t just be anything gift.,  it It has to be a kind of gift that speaks to them the receiver on a spiritual level. On another thought, it might not have to be a gift at all, it can be just some object of great importance to both the individual.the giver and the receiver There are limitless aspects I must consider before selecting the correct and most effective way of  lifting a spirit., but at the same time there limitless ways to lift a spirit in the first place. All of this, of course, goes back to the individual's preference and how I creatively use it to cheer themhim up. Such a simple act may sound like a methodical game of chess, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ti Oui

*** 

Mới ngày nào cậu Oui bằng Cỏ.

Giờ cậu Oui học đại học rồi.

Cậu Oui tuy lớn nhưng về VN chuyến năm 2019 vẫn được coi là em bé ... giống bé Cỏ :) 

THE RED-SEAMED FLOWERY MAT (CHIẾU HOA CẠP ĐIỀU)

Doan Quoc Sy, 2019 

THE RED-SEAMED FLOWERY MAT 
By Doan Quoc Sy
Translated by Doãn Thị Kim Khánh

My hometown was about 5 km from Hanoi. When the resistance broke out all over the nation, my family evacuated to Nha Nam, of Yen The ward, Bac Giang province.

In 1948, during his first visit from Vinh Yen, my uncle saw us all in yellowish and grayish hues because of jungle malaria. He said to my parents:
- You’ll have to evacuate the children southward, just as we did. If this situation persists, you’ll either die or turn into the living dead.”
After two years’ evacuation, my family had gone broke. That was probably why my parents tried another view of the situation:
- This Yen The Thuong highland used to have a toxic climate, but with many people coming to explore it, it is OK now.”
My uncle was still opposed to the idea:
- Just move to be near us and we will be together, away from jungle fever and accessible to trading opportunities.” (At that time Vinh Yen was still open to transportation between Interzone III and Viet Bac).

Then, my uncle headed for Vinh Yen. Two months after, he returned to oversee our move to the plain, saying that our accommodation had been readily arranged.

So, my family moved to Vinh Yen. I alone stayed because of my job with Zone 1 Communication Department. My mission was to propagandize the ten slogans of the resistance throughout Yen The ward. Constantly on the move, I was somewhat distracted from the sadness caused by my divisive family. My mind was only troubled when I returned to headquarters for work assessment. The Information Center was located on the left bank of the Thuong river, near a wharf of utmost beauty named Verdant Willow. To boost its romantic shade, I plainly called it “Green Willow”.
A letter from my sister let me know that my family had evacuated to the same village as my uncle’s family did. The village was right at the Rau wharf with Vinh Yen on one side and Son Tay on the other, a very convenient location for trading.

Unfortunately, as my parents reached Vinh Yen, the French soldiers just started an operation ravaging Son Tay and setting up another fort on the right bank of the Red River from Son Tay up to Viet Tri. All the roads connecting with Interzone III were constantly ambushed by the legionnaires.
Trapped in their ambush, my uncle lost almost all the trading money but was fortunate enough to keep his life intact. My mother was forced to stop her trading.

It was rumored that the prosperous N.H. village, which was on the right bank of the Day river and near the foot of the Tam Dao range, could be a good trading place. So my mother suggested that we move there. As we got to the place, my mother realized that she was mistaken. A year ago, it was a trading point because the whole population of Vinh Yen rushed to the place to evade the French attacks. But as soon as the situation became more stable, they all went home, leaving N.H. with its original melancholy of a transitional location with the midlands below and a deserted pass above.
Right then, I came home after quitting my job at the Information Department.

This made my mother so happy, since she often said: “During this disruptive period, we have to stick together, just in case …” It seemed that in her mind – actually, in my family’s mind- we all feared that one of us might die because of the bombing or being shot without leaving an identifiable corpse for the family. The joy of family reunion made us less depressed as we gathered our possessions and carried them to Yen Lac ward.  This time our family did not dare to settle near Rau wharf, for fear of air raids. Instead, we chose to settle at a village one kilometer from Yen Lac.

My uncle’s family lived right at the neighboring village. Both families were evidently in total destitution, in such a situation that we did not have the heart to pay each other visits. We just agreed to meet on the stone path that linked Yen Lac ward and Rau wharf in the late afternoons.
I met again my former beloved girl who evacuated from Phu Ly. We became husband and wife. Although the marriage was certified by the Resistance Administrative Staff, with the presence of my uncle and his wife as witnesses, the wedding was held as if it were a secret.

My adult younger sister found a way out by resorting to rice trading, walking back and forth 20 km with a yoke on her shoulder and a basket of rice on each end, all for meager benefits. In Yen The, there were risks of malaria, but amidst the jungle we didn’t fear surprise attacks from the enemy. Though poor, we had ample land to plant vegetables and raise chickens and pigs.
At that time, we had corn porridge for meals while my mother cautiously closed the middle doors to avoid inquisitive ears.

My younger sister bought rice at low prices from really distant markets, but still ended up with meager profits, The elderlies described that kind of rice as “malicious”. My mother made tuong (a kind of sauce made from beans) and carried it to distant markets for sale. My wife  lacked  strength but she was great at  stir frying beans, making yeasts, preparing salty solutions to add to the sauce .
As the Law University then offered classes near the Me Market (Vinh Yen), I registered for the year-3 class, hoping for a job as judge after graduation with a salary high enough to help my family. Because of the resistance situation, the professors came from afar and would give classes for consecutive days, then assign the students with more tasks for self-studies. This period of self-studies could last for more than a month before other professors came. I made the best of this intermission by rushing home to take charge of the family’s heavy work.

The winter of that year was unusually freezing. Incessant gusts of winds sharply cut through any exposed skin. Yet, every morning my mother and sister had to be out of bed at 4:30 to get ready for their trading. My family was drastically short of clothes and blankets. My third brother had a torn-out mat that he used both to lie on and cover himself with. He would wrap his exposed feet with hay.
- I felt pretty warm, bro,” he told me with delight.

My younger brothers and sisters were all grown up. We often took pleasure in giving over things to each other. My mother was concerned only about my youngest brother. He was only seven, too young to take refuge in mental pleasures while trying to ignore hunger and the cold. As compared to others in the family, he was most appropriately dressed in a bright red sweater made from the fabric with black calligraphy quoting wise sayings and with gold lamé lining (it was a gift offered to my grandma’s memory during the pre-war time). Besides this shirt, my mother had managed to make him an extra vest from the yellow silk lining. We teasingly called him “the boy of red flag and yellow stars” direct speech. During the freezing night hours, he was still not warmly donned and kept whimpering. We needed two more mats to keep the whole family warm. “Sedge mats are wind –proof,” my mother explained. But in this hand to mouth situation, how could we afford a pair of mats?
One day, while air fighters were repeatedly raiding the neighboring markets - Me market, Vang market, An Lac market – my mother was still not home though it was late in the afternoon. Usually, she would be home by 4:00 pm. We started getting anxious, though nobody said a word about it.

The late afternoon was getting darker. The north wind was whistling through the aged bamboo bush, making a sound similar to the hoarse croaking of the troubled ravens in their nests. The north wind swirled in different gusts, grasping tufts of yellow grapefruit leaves and hurling them toward the vast gloomy field.

My mother was still not home.

In my mind, I could see markets ravaged by air raids, people killed in the carnage because they did not manage to rush to underground shelters in time. Some were still holding the tent frame with one hand and their merchandise with the other. Others were destroyed by napalm, looking like burned banana tree trunks. And I darted to the gate.

My father, who knew my intention, said:
-  Just take the road straight to Rau market, son. Your mother usually goes home that way.

From the village gate, I raced on the chosen road, choking with emotions and anxiety. The road seemed endless and the field, which was engulfed in the growing darkness of the late afternoon and the freezing North wind looked increasingly vast. I dashed across the bomb holes like a solitary ghost eager to melt in the wind.
Someone was walking toward me from afar. The person was probably walking home from Rau market. I should ask for updated news about today’s air raids.
There seemed to be something hanging across the pole on the person’s shoulder.
I rushed forward. My goodness, it was my mother!
Mother and son were overwhelmed by emotions as if meeting at the gate of hell.
I asked: “Mom, why did you get home so late? We have been dreadfully worried!” My mother said she could not sell off all her goods in the market, so she went further in neighboring villages for the selling. As she walked off the dike and was passing by a large brook, she saw a mat floating down the stream and managed to get it off the water and immediately washed it in the stream. The mat was in a relatively good condition, though shrunk to one third of its width. Pointing to the mat aired on the pole, my mother said:
- The mat will be dry by the time we get home. Tonight, Tu will be warm under this mat.
- Mom, as the proverb says: “Poor or rich, the youngest is to have everything”. You have no concern about us; everything is for Tu only.”
My mother was walking ahead, As the wind was blowing against us, it carried my voice backward. She didn’t get all the sounds but still understood my joke. Holding the mat, she smiled at me.

That night, as Tu went to bed, my mother covered him with the mat she got from the brook. Parts of his feet showed, so I could recognize my old yellow socks with a patched tear at the tip. Thanks to the patch, his little toes were not exposed.

It was then a month from Tet. Again, my classes at Law University were postponed till January, when the professors were available. I came home right at the time workers were needed for the grain husking and rice pounding work. The family capital was reduced to five pots of grains, making it possible for my mother to bring home eight pots. She roughly calculated that each pot of grains would yield at least two extra cups of rice. With eight pots of grains, we would gain at least one and a half pot of rice. This would keep us busy for a month, and by Tet we could afford sticky rice for banh chung, meat and fish. We would have a rather magnificent “resistance” Tet.

We made negotiations to borrow grinding bowls and pounding bowls from neighbors, then started our work. My father took care of the children and prepared our meals. My brother and I were in charge of husking the grains while my mother directed my wife and sister to sift rice. After husking all the grains, we had the rice ready for pounding, collecting broken rice and rice powder in the process. While husking the grains, I mentally revised the laws and predecessors for the final exam. While pounding the rice with my wife, we planned our future together. By the time the Resistance ended in success, we would have had our beautiful children, come back to our hometown, rebuilt our little house and enjoyed the simple freedom in our love nest.

On the first day, we obtained eight pots of grains with two extra pots of rice. Nodding his approval, a local old man said: “Vạn sự xuất ư nho”. (Everything starts with Confucius students) Students can do it all. Who says Hanoi residents can’t endure hardships?”

The next day there was news that the French attacks had reached Vinh Yen. Those who had grains restrained from selling them. My mother tried really hard before she could buy six pots of grains at a high price so our family had work to do.

The French occupied Vinh Yen, causing the Ho Chi Minh currency to lose value drastically. With the same amount, now my mother was not sure she could buy four pots of grains.

The French advanced along the canal to occupy the Me market. The alarmed residents got ready to evacuate. My mother’s money had turned into waste paper. A mere snack (banh duc) would leave our pocket half empty. The prospects of New Year feasts with sticky rice, chicken and pork were destroyed by fire smoke and turned into a fragile memory drowned amidst a horrible war scenery during which husbands, wives and siblings were torn apart.

There was, then, the reform movement regarding officers and the system, but not yet Chinese advisers, nor the “three-point” learning policy for denouncement. So in spite of the endangered economy, there was still confidence in the glorious future of the people and the prospect of final victory under the wise leadership of Ho Chi Minh, as announced by the loudspeaker every late afternoon.

At the end of December, the freezing drizzle and north wind seemed to cut through our bodies. Was that due to the cold or to our decreased rations? The mat restored by my mother from the stream was now torn-out. While we were struggling to make ends meet in our family, tough battles took place between the French army and the resistance troops at the foot of Tam Dao Mt. To preserve The French advantage, General De L. decided to sacrifice his soldiers and ordered thorough bombings to destroy both sides.

Here. in the madness of treachery and treason, the resistance leaders treaded on humanity and coldly sacrificed their compatriots’ either for the colonists’ benefits or for their own class theory. How could I resist feeling disgust for those leaders’ faces?

From the foot of Tam Dao Mt, the French army spread in three directions while from the right bank of the Red River, a troop of legionnaire soldiers went over to ravage the Rau wharf on the left bank. From all directions, people rushed to Yen Lac ward and spread through the villages. My mother took the opportunity to cook and sell meals to them.
Among the many people from Rau village who evacuated to Lung Thuong village was Mr Ly Cuu, who happened to be a relative of my landlord during my evacuation time. Mr Ly often talked to my father and they were on very good terms, especially when he heard that I was a law student and a judge-to-be, getting ready for my exam.
He said:
- I have a grandson, now six years of age. With God’s blessing, if he grows up to be a decent person and after the Resistance succeeds, I plan to send him to Hanoi. Would you, your wife and your eldest son help take care of his education?

After the French army crossed the Day river from Me market, they went further into Lap Thach ward, burned it down in one day, then withdrew to the province. The troops that advanced to the left bank of the Red River and burned down the Rau wharf also withdrew to their original camp, then The evacuees, , started coming back home to get ready for Tet.
Lung Thuong village became quiet again.
That afternoon, my mother went to the bamboo bush in front of our house and found a red-seamed flowery mat carelessly thrown in the basement. it was a mat left behind by a family of evacuees, who were probably too eager to get home.
My mother said:
- Let’s say it is a gift from Providence for our family.
It had been a long time since I last saw my baby brother under a mat without revealing his feet and the patched hole in his socks.
In the morning, my mother carefully folded the mat and hung them on a rope across the roof. Since then, the whistling wind and stormy raindrops no longer bothered me, for I was assured that my siblings had enough mats and blankets to keep themselves warm. Two days later, in the early morning of the day before Tet, I woke up to find the village atmosphere livelier than usual because people were talking and laughing in the streets. I jumped out of bed and went straight to the alley. The cold air was crisp but serene and very quiet. Everybody I met was radiant with faith. All because of a slogan that appeared on every wall in the village “Get ready for the counter attack!”
Urban residents were planning to return home while the local ones were already saddened by the expected parting time.
One afternoon, Mr Ly Cuu from Rau village, came to visit the landlord, bringing with him a few Tet luxury gifts. Mr Ly Cuu went to the back lot to visit my father. They had just exchanged a few greetings when he raised his eyes to the red-seamed flowery mat hung over the rope. He instantly jumped to his feet, got hold of the mat and shortly said:
-  This mat is mine!
My mother’s reaction was exactly like that of a mother defending her kids in danger.
She said:
- Well, this mat is of my family …
My mother had always been a Buddhist. She could not speak because her Buddhist conscience returned; with embarrassment, she looked out toward the alley.
Mr Ly Cuu indifferently folded the mat under his arm and said:
No, this mat is mine. I bought a pair of red-seamed mats before the war, one is still up there.
It turned out that Mr Ly had previously asked the landlord to keep the mats for him. Then, those evacuees came and temporarily used the mat without permission. In the evening, as darkness pervaded in the shelter, they forgot to return it to its original place.
Though I could instantly figure out the whole picture, I still refused to give up and persistently backed up my mother’s words:
- My mother bought this mat from someone at Lam market.
(I thought that person had taken the mat from here and sold it at Lam market.)
Mr Ly was still indifferent, decisively indifferent:
- No, this mat is mine.
Then, he went straight to the living room with the mat. Only then did I come back to reality and remind myself that I would finish my exam, become a judge by the end of the year. I heard my wife sigh in my back then return to her room.
That evening, when my mother saw me use again the old torn-out mat to keep my youngest brother warm, she said softly, with a chirping noise:
It’s going to be fine though, with the warmer weather in January. Besides, the counter attack will be soon.
“The counterattack will be soon!” My mother certainly made a good point. The counter attack was meant to bring glory to the nation, to enable everybody to come back and restore joy to their hometown.
I understood that most families, like ours, had suffered humility when failing to live up to their expected virtues. That was what happened to us in the instance of the red-beamed flowery mat. However, none of those sacrifices could destroy the purity of the quiet soul, the soul hoping for a glorious future. Not even the sacrifice of dignity due to a common human weakness - no matter how persistently gnawing it was.
That year, on the first day of Tet, my mother went to pagoda. She prayed very long at Buddha’s altar. In a very pleading tone, she prayed that Buddha would bless the country with peace and our family with safety from hunger and war mishaps.
Her prayers at times sounded like sobs. Tears welled in my eyes just as I listened to her.
The Communists demeaned humans by means of deprivations to prove their theory about the supremacy of materialism. They were wrong! The more we experienced material deprivations, the more we strengthened our morality and enhanced our emotions.
Later, as I returned to the non-communist zone, then joined the mass migration to the South, many a time I experienced poverty and humility. However, none of these experiences were as painful as the one with the red-seamed flowery mat. Yet, it was such a simple story!
Some time ago, I bought a pair of flowery mats from Phat Diem store on 20th Street and spread it on the wooden bed for my children to lie on. I noticed that my wife, then sitting at the dressing table, suddenly covered her face with both hands. I guessed she was thinking about the red-seamed flowery mat of the old days. The story had turned into a dark buoy that remained floating in defiance of all kinds of storms, storms at sea, as well as storms in life and storms in the soul’s memories. I cautiously avoided being narrow-minded, selfish and sharp. Being an emotional person, I loved other people as I loved my own self. I felt empathy with the children who had to earn their living at very young ages; I felt empathy with hungry people who craved for foods and drinks. I felt empathy for those who toiled in the mist and in the sun. I felt empathy with those in poverty who struggled to make ends meet. I felt empathy with those enemies of the people in the past, now disgraced, wandering in the city.
In the colonists’ and capitalists’ worlds, they used materialistic attractions to entrap the human soul. In the communist world, they deprived humans of materialistic life to devalue the soul. Both ways failed. The human soul could only be convinced by generous and sincere love.
Seeing me keeping anger under control and, most importantly, smiling when in tears, my friends praised me for having the carefree spirit of Trang Chu, the Chinese philosopher.
Oh my dear friends!
That carefree spirit was the reward from so much hardship that my relatives and I endured in the past. The experience of the Red-Seamed Flowery Mat was part of it.

PHÉP LẠ

chắt Sóc của hai cụ Sỹ Thảo 

PHÉP LẠ

[...]

Hàng ngày ta thực hiện phép lạ mà ta thường không hay biết. Thiều nhìn thử lại xem trời xanh, mây trắng, lá đục và đôi mắt bé Thi Hải Thiều Âm đen lay láy. Hai mắt của Hải Thiều cũng là một phép lạ mà trời kia, mây ấy, lá nọ cũng là phép lạ phải không.
Thiền Sư Độc Thể nói : “Khi ngồi nên ngồi thật ngay thẳng và khởi niệm”. Ngồi đây cũng như ngồi trên pháp tọa Bồ Đề. Pháp Tọa Bồ Đề là chỗ một Đức Phật đã ngồi mà chứng ngộ. Nếu có hằng hà sa số Phật tức là đã có sa số người đã giác ngộ, và chỗ bãi cỏ tôi ngồi hôm trước ấy thế nào cũng có một Đức Phật đã ngồi.

Thi sĩ Nguyễn Công Trứ cũng có ý thức sáng khi ông ngồi xuống một chỗ ngồi và thấy dược rằng ngày xưa, cổ nhân đã từng ngồi trên chỗ ông đang ngồi, và ngàn muôn năm sau cũng sẽ có người tới ngồi chỗ ấy.

“Ngã kim nhật tại tọa chi địa
Cổ chi ngân tằng tiên ngã tọa chi
(Ngàn muôn năm âu cũng thế ni
Ai hay hát mà ai hay nghe hát)”.

Chỗ ngồi và thời gian trong giờ phút ấy trở thành hợp nhất trong một hiện tại vĩnh cửu.
Nhưng người tác viên không phải có thì giờ để suốt ngày thong thả chơi trên những con đường cỏ xanh và ngồi dưới gốc cây. Người tác viên phải soạn thảo, dự án công tác, bàn bạc với dân làng, giải quyết trăm vàn khó khăn lao động nơi ruộng vườn, đối phó với cường hào ác bá. Trong thời gian thực hiện công tác đó. Anh hoặc chị phải để tâm ý vào công việc, đề cao cảnh giác, sẵn sàng phản ứng một cách thông minh và hữu hiệu. Tất cả những điều ấy chính là quán niệm. Thực tập quán cũng là để có thể để hết tâm ý vào công việc, đề cao cảnh giác và phản ứng thông minh. Trong lúc bàn cãi giải quyết và đối phó, sự bình tâm và tự chủ là những yếu tố cần thiết để đi tới kết quả tốt đẹp, anh chị tác viên nào cũng rõ điều ấy. Nếu ta không tự chủ mà để cho sự nóng giận hoặc đãng trí kéo đi thì hiệu năng của ta không còn bao lăm nữa.

Quán niệm là một phép lạ mà ta có thề sử dụng để khôi phục và thâu hồi tự thân. Giả dụ một nhà ảo thuật nào đó đem thân thể ta chia làm nhiều phần và dặt mỗi phần ở một địa phương khác nhau. Bàn tay đặt nam, bắp chân đặt ở bắc, cánh tay đặt đông… Rồi dùng phép lạ hô lên một tiếng. Mỗi phần của thân thể lặp tức liền lại với nhau, để thân thể ta trở nên toàn vẹn trở lại. Quán niệm cũng thế, đó là phép lạ để tụ họp trong chớp nhoáng tâm ý phiêu lưu, tản mát khắp chốn và thực hiện tự tâm toàn vẹn trong giây phút hiện tại của sự sống.

[...]
Thích Nhất  Hạnh 
Trích trong “Phép Lạ Của Sự Tỉnh Thức" 

https://langmai.org/tang-kinh-cac/vien-sach/thien-tap/phep-la-cua-su-tinh-thuc/phep-la-la-di-tren-mat-dat/

LEADING VOICES - CHẮT CỤ HÁT

Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are

When the blazing sun is gone
When he nothing shines upon
Then you show your little light
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night
Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you ar







Daddy finger, daddy finger, where are you?
Here I am, here I am
How do you do?

Mommy finger, mommy finger, where are you?
Here I am, here I am
How do you do?

Brother finger, brother finger, where are you?
Here I am, here I am
How do you do?

Sister finger, sister finger, where are you?
Here I am, here I am
How do you do?

Baby finger, baby finger, where are you?
Here I am, here I am
How do you do?

BỘ TEM CHÚ THOÒNG

Bộ tem Chú Thoòng của Bưu điện Hong Kong

Bộ tem này đến ngày 5 tháng 12 năm 2019 mới phát hành. Nên phải ráng đợi hơn 11 tháng nữa . Bộ tem gồm 8 con và đáng nên có trong bộ sưu tập cho những ai yêu chuộng tem.

Trước năm 1975 tại miền nam , thiếu nhi , thanh thiếu niên và cả người lớn không xa lạ với các quyển chuyện tranh mang tên chú Thoong , nguyên bản Hong Kong và dịch ra chữ Việt.

Chú Thoòng có tên tiếng Anh là Old master Q

Tác giả là Vương Trạch - Alfonso Wong

Vương Trạch (chữ Hán: 王澤; 1924 - 2017), tên thật Vương Gia Hy (王家禧) là một tác giả truyện tranh nổi tiếng của Hồng Kông, tác phẩm xuất sắc nhất của ông là truyện "Chú Thoòng" (chữ Hán:老夫子, Hán Việt: Lão Phu Tử), một truyện hài hước châm biếm đã được dịch ra nhiều thứ tiếng, rất được độc giả Đông Nam Á ưa chuộng. Truyện tranh này nổi tiếng được 5 thập niên

Vương Trạch sinh tại Thiên Tân, Trung Quốc. Học hội họa Đông phương tại trường Đại học Công giáo Phụ Nhân ở Bắc Kinh (北京辅仁大学) và tốt nghiệp năm 1944.

Năm 1960 ông di cư đến Hong Kong. Tại đây ông vẽ tranh tôn giáo cho những người truyền đạo Pháp. Sau đó thành người chỉnh sửa cho tạp chí Thiên Chúa giáo "Lạc Phong báo"(樂峰報).[1]

Sự nghiệp của ông thăng tiến từ năm 1962, khi bắt đầu viết bộ truyện tranh "Chú Thoòng". Bộ truyện hài hước này nhanh chóng trở thành nổi tiếng, ảnh hưởng khắp Hồng Kông, sau đó lan đến Trung Quốc và các nước Đông Nam Á.

Năm 1974, ông sang Mỹ sống, đến những năm 1980 thì ngưng sáng tác.

Ngày 1/1/2017, Vương Trạch qua đời ở tuổi cao sức yếu là 91-92 tuổi.

Chú Thoòng

Chú Thoòng hay Lão Phu Tử (chữ Hán: 老夫子; Việt bính: Lou5 Fu1 Zi2) là tên một bộ truyện tranh hài hước của họa sĩ Vương Trạch (王澤), người Hồng Kông. Bộ truyện ra đời vào khoảng thập niên 1960, cho đến nay đã rất quen thuộc với độc giả Hồng Kông.

Tại Việt Nam, truyện "Chú Thoòng" đã được truyền bá rộng rãi trước năm 1975 tại miền nam Việt Nam

Cho đến mãi thập 90 thì Nhà xuất bản Trẻ phát hành mới xin tái phát hành , tiếp theo Nhà xuất bản Kim Đồng mua bản quyền thành công và ra giới thiệu lại với độc giả từ ngày 21 tháng 8 năm 2017.

Truyện Chú Thoòng tập trung miêu tả về đời sống của nhân vật chính tên Thoòng. Thoòng là một người có tuổi, tính cách khá trì trệ, bảo thủ, không biết cách hòa nhập với thời đại. Trong một xã hội Hồng Kông đang đổi mới từng ngày, mà chú Thoòng đi đâu cũng mặc một bộ đồ cổ Trung Quốc, giữ nguyên những tính cách cổ của dân Trung Quốc, nên chú thường bị lạc lõng. Do lạc lõng, mà chú sinh ra bệnh hoang tưởng, bệnh này tạo ra một chú Thoòng cách biệt với đời, nhưng giữ trong mình rất nhiều tính cách chung của dân Trung Quốc.

Thường thì chú rất lạc quan, như một đứa trẻ, trước nhiều tình huống khó khăn, chú có những cách giải quyết khác người và cách ấy đôi khi cũng rất ngây thơ, dễ thương. Nhưng nhiều khi cũng vì hoang tưởng mà chú đâm ra thất vọng cuộc đời dẫn đến bao phen muốn đi tự tử. Chú Thoòng có một tình yêu ỡm ờ với cô Trần, một cô gái thanh lịch, hợp thời. Chú cũng có một khắc tinh là lão Triệu, là một người nóng nảy, thù vặt, hay nghĩ ra cách chơi xỏ chú Thoòng. Bên cạnh đó, chú còn có hai người bạn thân là Lý Toét, một anh chàng thật thà, tốt bụng nhưng cũng hơi lập dị và Xã Xệ, một người ngờ nghệch, khờ khạo tới mức hài hước. Những người này thường xuyên xuất hiện quanh cuộc đời chú Thoòng, tạo nên những tình huống vui nhộn, nhưng đôi khi cũng "cười ra nước mắt".

Truyện tranh chú Thoòng có 2 cách thể hiện, 1 là dưới dạng những truyện ngắn là chỉ 4, 6, 8 hoặc 12 ô tranh, hoặc dưới dạng truyện dài. Truyện ngắn nhiều hơn và cũng là dạng truyện tiêu biểu đã làm nên tên tuổi chú Thoòng.

Anh Quân