Latest news with #Hmong
Yahoo
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
12 free things to do on Father's Day in the Twin Cities
12 free things to do on Father's Day in the Twin Cities originally appeared on Bring Me The News. It doesn't matter if you're making last-minute plans or have things schemed out; there are heaps of Father's Day activities that can be done for free. Here are a dozen activities you can do for free over Father's Day weekend. The festival along the Mississippi River is back this weekend. It'll have art vendors, food trucks, live music, and other performances throughout the weekend. On Sunday, the free live music includes Couch Potato Massacre, Radiator Girl, Willows, Dan Israel, John Magnuson Trio, Shug E, and others. June 14–15, 10 a.m.–5 p.m. — along West River Parkway from N 4th Avenue to S 11th Avenue, Minneapolis The Eagan art park and NAMI Minnesota are hosting a free festival with creative workshops and activities, including drumming, rock stacking (yes, really), forest bathing, mobile metal casting, and other hands-on art projects. Plus, you're in the art park, so, take a stroll and enjoy some sculptures. June 14, 10 a.m.–1 p.m. — Caponi Art Park, 1220 Diffley Rd., Eagan Minneapolis has an incredible number of free concerts in its parks throughout the summer. That includes Father's Day, when you can see the a cappella group CANTUS (2 p.m.) and Just Dave and the Rockin Allstars (5:30 p.m.). June 15 — Lake Harriet Bandshell, 4135 W Lake Harriet Pkwy., Minneapolis The market is back this summer with live performances, art, a beer garden, a lion dance, and, of course, a ton of food. It's free to enter, but if you're heading there on Saturday, it may be worth going early, since the largest of Saturday's many "No Kings" protests is taking place nearby. To accommodate, the market is opening early on Saturday. June 14, 12–11 p.m. and June 15, 2–10 p.m. — 425 Rice St., St. Paul Bloomington's Sunday Funday series is hosting "a vibrant celebration of 50 years of Hmong resettlement and powerful contributions to Minnesota's cultural landscape." The day is loaded with live music and dancing, as well as a couple of food trucks. June 15, 5–8 p.m. — Bloomington Civic Plaza, 1800 W Old Shakopee Rd., Bloomington Got a cat dad? Head to the inaugural Hamline Midway Cat Tour, which is a bit like the Wedge Live Cat Tour that's held in Minneapolis each year. You walk around the neighborhood with neighbors and say hello to cats. It's exactly what it sounds like. June 14, 10 a.m. — starts at St. Columba Church, 1327 Lafond Ave., St. Paul The Minnesota Latino Museum is hosting a party around its "Alebrijes" exhibit on Raspberry Island, which opened on May 19. Saturday's party includes live mariachi, a performance from María Isa, art activities, puppet-making, and food. June 14, 12–5 p.m. — Raspberry Island in St. Paul Dad love board games? There are game "nights" that can scratch that itch. Tower Games in Minneapolis has a Magic the Gathering gathering, Rail Werks Brewing Depot in Columbia Heights hosts a board game night every Sunday, and there's even a tabletop game get-together at the Maple Grove Library with games on hand and no experience required. Various locations The 98-year-old pianist is a Twin Cities legend. He's still playing blues and jazz classics all over town every week, including his Sunday residency at Palmer's Bar. June 15, 5 p.m. — Palmer's Bar, 500 Cedar Ave. S, Minneapolis It's a St. Paul treasure, to be sure. For a suggested donation, you get access to the Como Zoo, which has its polar bear program, giraffe feeding, and seal show on the schedule for Father's Day, among other activities, on Sunday. Open daily — Como Zoo & Conservatory, 1225 Estabrook Dr., St. Paul Get inspired with a stroll around the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden or through the Minneapolis Institute of Art. Maybe the journey will even be so inspiring that you'll want to let dad head to the Hosmer Library's Zine Club to make a zine (they've got all the materials you'll need). Various locations Unsurprisingly, breweries are throwing dad-themed hangouts. That includes Surly Brewing (11 a.m.–5 p.m., which will have music, beer, and food; Brühaven, which will have BOGO drinks for dads, a paint and sip class, and a food truck; and Boom Island Brewing, where dad's first pint is on the house from 12–7 p.m. Various locationsThis story was originally reported by Bring Me The News on Jun 13, 2025, where it first appeared.
India.com
11-06-2025
- India.com
Inside America's Long Tieng: The Most Secret Nerve Centre Of A Covert CIA Operation
Far from tourist trails and modern highways in Laos lies a forgotten piece of Cold War history. A cracked airstrip cuts through the green hills of Long Tieng, a village that, five decades ago, was ground zero for a covert U.S. operation that ran parallel to the Vietnam War. Today, Long Tieng, according to CNN, looks like any other rural settlement in Southeast Asia. A few guesthouses, basic shops and farming plots line the road. Children ride scooters across what used to be a military runway. Most residents work the land. Few of them have ever flown on a plane. Even fewer realise that this valley was once considered 'the most secret place on Earth'. From the early 1960s to 1975, Long Tieng served as the headquarters of a clandestine war effort backed by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). The goal was to block the spread of communism across Southeast Asia, specifically in Laos, where American forces were officially barred from operating under international agreements. The CIA partnered with the Hmong ethnic minority, led by General Vang Pao, to build a paramilitary base in the village. The site rapidly grew into a military hub. At its peak, over 30,000 people, including Hmong fighters, their families, Thai soldiers, American agents and CIA-linked pilots, lived and worked here. Roughly 4,500 feet long, the CNN report says, the airstrip handled up to 900 take-offs and landings each day. Supplies such as ammunition, food and fuel were flown in by aircraft operated by Air America, a CIA-owned airline. Smaller planes then distributed these resources to remote outposts across the region. Pilots known as 'Ravens' operated from the site as well. These U.S. Air Force personnel flew low-level missions to identify targets and direct bombing runs. Many of them worked in civilian clothing under diplomatic cover, blurring the line between soldier and spy. Despite its size and significance, the report suggests, Long Tieng remained unknown to much of the outside world. Even U.S. troops fighting in neighboring Vietnam were unaware of the base. Secrecy was absolute. After the U.S. withdrew in 1975 and the Pathet Lao took power, Long Tieng emptied out almost overnight. Thousands of Hmong were displaced. The site was abandoned. What remains now are skeletal buildings, overgrown runways and rusting equipment. Many of the bunkers and hangars have collapsed. Today, reaching Long Tieng is still difficult. The journey from Vientiane takes more than eight hours. Roads are unpaved, narrow and often blocked by landslides or mining trucks. Communication is limited, and phone signals are unreliable in the mountains. Despite its history, the site sees very few visitors. A handful of local tour operators organise occasional trips, but there are no museums, no signs and no official preservation efforts. General Vang Pao's former headquarters still stands. A plain two-story house, now empty, with a 'no entry without permission' sign posted in English. Visitors who make it inside find little more than a wooden desk, artillery shells stacked in a corner and a view of the now-silent airstrip. The legacy of the conflict continues to affect Laos. According to the Mines Advisory Group (MAG), roughly 80 million unexploded submunitions remain scattered across the countryside. Villagers in the Long Tieng area still avoid walking off known trails for fear of triggering dormant explosives. Since 1995, the United States has invested nearly $400 million to support weapons clearance programs in Laos. Still, progress is slow, and fears about future funding cuts continue to raise concerns. For many in Long Tieng, life has returned to a quiet rhythm. Children play where warplanes once launched. Farmers plant rice on land that once held military barracks. But for those who know the history, the scars remain visible and buried. The war may have ended 50 years ago, but its echoes still shape this hidden valley.
Yahoo
10-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
State lawmaker's 'My family broke the law to come here' comment causes social media stir
The Brief Minnesota lawmaker Kaohly Vang Her, a St. Paul Democrat, caused a social media stir Monday after saying, "My family broke the law to come here." FOX 9 has confirmed Her is a documented immigrant in Minnesota legally. It would be illegal for an undocumented citizen to serve the Minnesota Legislature. ST. PAUL, Minn. (FOX 9) - A social media firestorm broke out Monday when some people missed the context of a Minnesota DFL Representative's comments on the MinnesotaCare cuts for undocumented adults. What they're saying Rep. Kaohly Vang Her, a Democrat from St. Paul, said, "My family broke the law to come here. I never knew that. I just learned that now. So when you're thinking about voting 'no' on this bill, you're voting 'no' against someone like me." Representative Her's comments led to some widely-shared misinformation with people claiming she's undocumented, and serving the Minnesota Legislature. Why you should care That's not legal, and FOX 9 confirmed Monday she's not undocumented. Her is a citizen who was a Hmong refugee with her family in the 1970s, and whose father found a way to skip a step and get them to the United States faster. Rep. Her had legal documentation, and she was naturalized in junior high school.
Yahoo
09-06-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
‘I'm a citizen,' clarifies Minnesota Democrat after saying she came to the U.S. illegally
Rep. Kaohly Vang Her, DFL-St. Paul, speaks on the House floor in 2024. (Photo by Andrew VonBank/Minnesota House Info) Rep. Kaohly Her, DFL-St. Paul, revealed a stunning detail about herself during a debate on the Minnesota House floor Monday: She came to the United States illegally as a child. 'I am illegal in this country. My parents are illegal here in this country,' Her said on the floor. Her was trying to inspire empathy in her Republican colleagues, who were about to vote to take away state-funded health care for undocumented adults in Minnesota. 'I tell you this story because I want you to think about who it is that you are calling illegal,' Her told House Republicans on the floor. 'My family was just smarter in how we illegally came here. We had more privileges and more ability, which is why we came here in that way.' The fourth-term lawmaker's remarks quickly ignited a firestorm in right-wing media, who are questioning her legal status and her ability to cast a vote in U.S. elections. One of her Republican colleagues, Rep. Walter Hudson, R-Albertville, called for her to be investigated and she's already receiving threats and insults on social media. In an interview with the Reformer, Her clarified that she and her parents are U.S. citizens. Her is a refugee from Laos, and moved to the U.S. when she was three. Her's parents took their U.S. citizenship test, and Her became a citizen as a minor when she was in middle school, she said. Her said her father technically broke the law when he filled out paperwork for the family to come to the U.S. as refugees. He did so to expedite the process to come to the U.S., though they would have come to America anyway. Her came to America along with a wave of Hmong refugees, who were critical allies to the United States in the Vietnam War and the 'secret war' in Laos, assisting in intelligence operations, disrupting north Vietnamese supply routes and combating communism's spread through Southeast Asia. Her's grandfather was a colonel in the war, she said. Her's father worked at the U.S. consulate, and he processed their family's paperwork in a way to expedite their timeline to immigrate to the U.S. as refugees. People who were set to come to the U.S. as refugees could do so quicker if they had family connections to the military, CIA or USAID. Her said her family didn't qualify for those pipelines, but one of her family's friends worked for USAID. When Her's father processed the refugee paperwork, he claimed familial connection to the friend that worked for USAID, which wasn't true. 'Technically, you would say my father broke the law, right? But we would have come anyway,' Her said. Minnesota House Republicans, alongside DFL House caucus leader Melissa Hortman, voted Monday to strip MinnesotaCare from undocumented adults. The Senate later voted to do the same. Her said she wishes she would have been more clear about her citizenship status on the House floor, but she doesn't regret telling her story. 'The truth is until people see a face with somebody and a situation, it is really easy for us to other each other, and as somebody who's been marginalized because of who I am my whole life, I never want to do that to somebody else,' Her said.
CNN
09-06-2025
- General
- CNN
Once home to the CIA, this tiny Southeast Asia runway was considered ‘the most secret place on Earth'
Deep in the sweltering jungles of central Laos, a 4,500-foot stretch of cracked concrete cuts through the trees — an airstrip without an airport, in a village where many have never been on a plane. But behind its crumbling control tower and bomb-cratered runway lies a hidden chapter of America's Cold War history — a site once known as 'the most secret place on Earth.' The village of Long Tieng sits in central Laos, about 80 miles northeast of the capital, Vientiane. Today, it's a sleepy settlement of a few thousand people who mostly rely on the land to carve out a living. There are a couple of restaurants, two guesthouses and a handful of multipurpose shops selling everything from rice to farming tools made from repurposed bombshell metal — a nod to the village's agricultural roots and wartime past. At the village center lies the airstrip. It no longer serves aircraft, instead now functioning as a kind of outdoor community center: children ride scooters, farmers herd cattle and elderly villagers take early morning strolls before the intense heat engulfs the valley. But 50 years ago, the scene was vastly different. From the 1960s to the early 1970s, Laos played a central role in the United States' fight to stop the spread of communism in Southeast Asia. Long Tieng was the secret headquarters of a US-backed Hmong anti-communist army fighting against the communist Pathet Lao forces, which were supported by the North Vietnamese Army. At its height, tens of thousands of inhabitants — Hmong soldiers, their families, refugees from other parts of Laos, Thai soldiers and a small contingent of American CIA operatives and secret US Air Force pilots, dubbed 'Ravens' — called this place home. It was the heart of the largest paramilitary operation ever conducted by the CIA. At one point in time, the tiny airstrip handled 900 daily take-offs and landings, making it one of the busiest airports in the world. Cargo planes would offload crucial supplies including ammunition and food, which would then be loaded onto smaller planes that flew to even smaller airstrips around the country. Despite the scale of the base, it was so secret even some of those participating in the war in other locations did not know of its existence, says Paul Carter, a Laos Secret War specialist who lives in Southeast Asia. 'The war in Laos was so compartmentalized … I knew guys who participated in that war, they did not even know Long Tieng existed until the late 1960s when they started letting the reporters in there,' he tells CNN. From this remote mountain village, the CIA-backed Hmong army, led by the charismatic General Vang Pao, fought not only the communist Pathet Lao forces but also conducted guerrilla operations — destroying North Vietnamese supply depots, blowing up critical supply routes and generally harassing communist forces — all with full support from the US. As part of this secret war, the US launched a brutal bombing campaign that paralleled its broader military operations in Vietnam. And because international agreements barred direct military involvement in Laos, the effort fell almost entirely on the CIA. American pilots flew thousands of missions from Long Tieng's airstrip, which was known by the codenames Lima Site 98 and Lima Site 20A. Fifty years after the fall of Long Tieng in 1975, I set out to explore the remnants of the US presence in the area. I was drawn here after reading the book, 'A Great Place to Have a War' by Joshua Kurlantzick. It pulled me into a world I'd never known — a hidden Cold War battleground on the sidelines of the Vietnam War. Watching old, grainy newsreels of reporters wandering around the base only deepened my fascination. Somewhere along the way, I realized I needed to see Long Tieng with my own eyes. Before long, I find myself in Vientiane with an old college friend who I've convinced to come along for an adventure and Mr. Pao — the only driver I could find with a car suitable for the journey. Pao says he used to work at the mines near Long Tieng and is familiar with the area, though he admits he's only visited the village once before. Several tour companies organize trips, but the number of tourists that visit Long Tieng still pales in comparison to Laos' major tourist destinations like Luang Prabang and Vang Vieng. Chris Corbett, owner of Laos Adv Tours and Rentals, tells CNN that his company operates around 10 motorbike tours a year to the site, taking a total of around 40 people to the village. He said his guests mainly come from the United States, Australia and Europe. Today, the village remains largely cut off from the rest of the country. Though just 80 miles from Vientiane, the drive takes over eight hours. Beyond the capital's outskirts, roads quickly degrade — first into unsealed dirt tracks, then into rugged mining roads scarred by landslides and potholes. Visibility is often poor — dust kicked up by mining trucks combines with smoke from slash-and-burn agriculture. At times, we crawl forward, barely reaching 5 mph. Part of the road winds over a rugged mountain pass with no guardrails, just a sheer drop into the valley below. Sitting in the back of the car, I grip the seat in front of me as our driver edges closer to the cliffside, the tires skimming loose gravel. At one point, our driver glances back and warns us that if we get a flat tire out here, we'll likely be stuck for a long time — maybe hours. There's no phone signal. We nod silently and keep going. As we approach Long Tieng, the rough dirt road suddenly gives way to smooth pavement. Cresting the final mountain pass, we expect to glimpse the airstrip — but thick smoke shrouds the valley, limiting visibility to a few hundred meters. Descending into the village as the sun sets, there's little sign that 30,000 people once lived here. Family farms now occupy land once filled with barracks and command centers. Military convoys have long been replaced by scooters and cattle. We stay in a guesthouse next to the airstrip. It's barebones — a wooden bed and a single creaky fan that spins with little effect. There's no air conditioning, and the humid air hangs heavy and unmoving. It's hard to sleep — not just because of the heat, but because I can't stop thinking about what this place had once been. The next morning, we walk down the center of the airstrip as the sun rises over the valley. Once one of the busiest runways in the world, it now lies silent. Tall grass sprouts from potholes left by artillery strikes. The crumbling control tower is only half its original height, and the hangars at the far end sit abandoned — rusting reminders of a war long past. As I walk along its length, I notice the absence of signposts, statues or any form of commemoration. Despite the airstrip's historical importance, there's nothing to mark it. Among those who operated out of Long Tieng during the war were the Ravens, a secret group of active-duty Air Force pilots who volunteered to serve in Laos. Their primary role was to act as forward air controllers (FACs), flying low behind enemy lines to identify and mark targets for US Air Force bombers. 'They were just kind of taken off the books,' Carter says. 'They operated under a different cover.' The Ravens wore civilian clothing and were issued US Embassy ID cards. In some cases, Carter notes, pilots were also issued US Agency for International Development (USAID) identity cards. The Ravens often flew in pairs — an American pilot in front and a local Hmong 'backseater' who communicated with ground forces. But they weren't alone over the skies of Laos. Pilots from Air America, a secret CIA-owned airline, also operated in Long Tieng; they flew in crucial supplies to the base and conducted daring search and rescue missions to recover downed pilots deep behind enemy lines. 'I landed there pretty much every other day,' Neil Hansen, a pilot stationed in Laos during part of the war, tells CNN. Hansen worked for Air America between 1964 and 1973 and detailed his experience in the book, 'FLIGHT: An Air America Pilot's Story of Adventure, Descent and Redemption.' 'I was flying a C-123, bringing in munitions, supplies and fuel for 'the little birds,' which would then distribute it to other sites,' Hansen recalls. As part of his mission, he also transported 'CIA customers.' During one flight in 1972, Hansen was shot down over the Plateau de Bolevan in southern Laos. 'After getting my crew out and bailing out, I watched the C-123 fall out of the sky and explode,' he says, noting he was rescued by Air America helicopters shortly after. About 100 meters west of the airstrip stands a two-story house that once served as the headquarters of General Vang Pao, the leader of the CIA-backed Hmong army. From this remote compound, Pao worked closely with American operatives to coordinate a covert war, marshaling thousands of Hmong fighters while receiving US air support, weapons and humanitarian aid in return. Set behind a tall fence and overgrown garden, the house still feels separated from the rest of the village — distant, guarded. A sign on the front door, written in English, reads: 'No entry without permission.' It's the only English sign we've seen in the entire village, and it stops us in our tracks. With no one around, we circle the property, peering through dusty windows, unsure whether we can get inside. An older man in weathered military fatigues appears nearby. Without saying a word, he approaches, slowly dangling a key in front of our faces. He doesn't speak English, but types out a number on his phone. We nod and hand over the cash. A moment later, we're inside. The house is not what I expected. I'd imagined a preserved time capsule, cluttered with mementos or forgotten artifacts — but the rooms are eerily empty. No furniture, no decorations, no posters or portraits of the general. In the foyer, dozens of artillery shells are stacked neatly in one corner, with several mortar rounds resting nearby. It's surreal to see these instruments of war arranged with such quiet precision. Through a translation app, the man warns us not to touch anything — some might still be live. Upstairs, a single wooden desk and chair have been placed near a panoramic window facing the airstrip. I sit down, imagining General Vang Pao and CIA officers in this very spot, directing B-52 bombing runs on communist strongholds. The war — so vast, so devastating — had largely been coordinated from this small, simple room. It was almost impossible to reconcile the scale of the conflict with the modesty of this setting. We climb up to the roof. From there, the view stretches across the old airstrip and into the mountains that once shielded Long Tieng from attack. Today, the village is quiet. A few people walk slowly down the main road. Stray dogs nap in the sun. It's hard to believe that tens of thousands of people once lived here. Today, the impacts of the intense US bombing campaign on Laos are still being felt. Of the 270 million sub-munitions dropped on the country, an estimated 30% did not detonate, according to the Mines Advisory Group (MAG). These unexploded ordnances continue to kill, injure and hinder development across the country, according to MAG. Around the hills of Long Tieng, villagers still rarely venture off established roads and trails to avoid unexploded munitions. Full US-Laos relations were restored in 1992 and since 1995, the US has invested more than $390 million in a Conventional Weapons Destruction program aimed at addressing the legacy of the war. However, questions remain about future US funding of explosive ordinance clearance in Southeast Asia following the Trump administration's widespread suspension of foreign aid. 'I fell in love with Laos,' says Hansen. 'I look back on my time as exciting and a place where I could immerse myself in the culture. I was fulfilling a purpose where I knew I was accomplishing something that was needed.' Back in Long Tieng, children riding scooters zoom past my friend and me, their tires bumping over the broken concrete that once launched warplanes into the sky. I now understand why the community gravitates toward the airstrip whenever they can: it's one of the few open spaces cleared of unexploded ordnance. A rare place where children can play without fear of becoming another casualty of a war that ended 50 years ago. The legacy of a secret conflict — barely remembered back in the United States.
