From games to sweet treats to flowers to traditional attire, the nostalgic elements of Tết often tug people to the past. Saigoneer writers have reflected on the enticing, acidic aroma of once-legal firecracker smoke; the versatility of tear-off calendar pages; and hours laboring over handmade coconut candies, amongst other fond recollections. However, the holiday has no childhood connections or coming-of-age associations for me. Achieving personal relevance when I was nearly three decades into life, Tết instead offers me an opportunity to look ahead, ponder potential, and imagine what could be.
The delight I take in the natural world means the namesake animal associated with each new year captures my fascination. It’s an excuse to indulge my inner biology nerd. Immersing in the critters’ natural behaviors and cultural import yields interesting tidbits, such as why Vietnam is the only nation that celebrates a cat instead of a rabbit. This can be a sad undertaking, though, when it forces me to confront the devastations we’ve unleashed upon the planet.
Despite its name and appearance, the shipworm is not a worm, but instead a mollusk. Photo via Nature Photographers Ltd/Alamy Stock Photo.
While contemplating the animals every year, I find myself daydreaming about what animal I would prefer to hold the annual honor. Settled on centuries ago with dubious legends to match, perhaps it’s time for a change because they no longer reflect the characteristics and qualities our societies aspire to; maybe it's just time for a style makeover. In this fantasy, I have been appointed the singular decision maker, beholden to no voters or feng shui cognoscenti. The choice is mine alone, and this year I have decided on the shipworm.
As a marine bivalve mollusk belonging to the family Teredinidae, shipworms are notorious for boring their soft, squirmy bodies into wood that is immersed in seawater. They latch their toothless mouths to wood and bacteria in their guts dissolve the cellulose so they can feast. Their gormandizing destroys piers, docks, and ships. Many great naval vessels have been lost to these tiny ocean mollusks.
Before you question how one could replace a snake with a slow, blind, stupid invertebrate, remember what the average snake looks like whenever you encounter one.
Why not give them the honor in 2025? Then we could say things like: “The Year of Shipworm did not ruin me. But by gnawing away at my cellulose-rich soul, it has left me feeble, flimsy, fully unfit to withstand whatever maelstroms lie ahead.”
Parents could praise their children born in the Year of the Shipworm as being diligent and able to impart great change in the world with little commotion or need for attention. Those born in the Year of the Shipworm will be lucky in love and business because they are calm, confident, and self-assured.
Picture these replaced with playful shipworm statues at the Saigon Zoo. Photos by Paul Christiansen.
Such musings are all a matter of fun, of course, made possible, in part, because Tết is a joyous season that puts one in a carefree mood with free time for whimsy. I know there is no chance we will ever have the Year of the Shipworm. But as I travel the city next week, marveling at all the ridiculous snake statues, I will squint my eyes a bit, imagine them without tongues or eyes, and wish myself a happy Year of the Shipworm.
[Top image by Reuters/Alamy Stock Photo]
