Our Story

Leaving Everything Behind

My story didn’t begin in a luxury showroom. It began in 1975 with the fall of Saigon. My mother, Ann, was just 22 years old when she made the courageous decision to leave Vietnam. She, my two siblings, and I fled our homeland with little more than the clothes on our backs. Even at that young age, my mom knew she wanted a different future for her children.

Through the American refugee program, we traveled a long, uncertain path. First, we landed in Guam, living in a tent camp alongside hundreds of other refugees. Next, we spent six months in a refugee camp in Southern California, waiting and hoping for a sponsor.

That hope came in the form of James Adams, a U.S. military veteran who had served two tours in Vietnam. James drove from Georgia to Southern California to bring our family to our new home.

As a boy, I didn’t understand the politics or the war. But I knew two things: America was where crunchy peanut butter and fig cookies lived, and I was finally home.

Historical photo placement: an early family photograph from the 1970s or our arrival in Georgia.

Historical photo placement: Ann’s Jewelry or Van helping at the original store.

A Mother’s Side Hustle

My mom was a force of nature. To provide for us, she worked as a contract seamstress by night and walked two miles to her job at McDonald’s during the day.

Eventually, she made a friend who owned a small jewelry store named Lee’s Jewelry. To earn extra money, my mom began selling pieces from her friend’s store on consignment to her own friends and acquaintances. She found it profitable, but more than that, she found it exciting. A passion for jewelry had been lit inside her.

James and my mom fell in love and married. Our family put down roots in Lilburn, and in 1985 my mom made her dream a reality. She opened Ann’s Jewelry in a small shopping center at Killian Hill Road and Highway 78. The Adams name became part of our family, and eventually part of the name above our store.

I spent afternoons doing homework and helping with her sewing contracts. I became quite good at sewing buttons onto children’s dresses to look like frog eyes.

More importantly, that little shop was where I learned how to treat people. My mom welcomed strangers like old friends. She treated everyone like family.

Her lesson was simple: treat customers as you would your own family and friends. Be trustworthy, be fair, and most of all, make friends.

Supporting the Hot Rod & Serving Our Country

During my years at Brookwood High School, I followed my mom’s example and held down two jobs: working at Hunan Garden on weekends and at the Crown gas station after school.

I saved for my dream first car, a gas-guzzling 1968 RS Camaro that cost $1,000. But keeping a hot rod running and making it my own took more than my hourly wages could cover.

During the holidays, I turned to my mom’s shop. I took gold herringbone necklaces, bracelets, rope chains, and small gold pieces on consignment, carrying them in a tote case to sell to classmates as gifts. The extra money helped support my car. Along the way, just as it had for my mother, an interest in jewelry began to grow.

After high school, I wanted to give back to the country that had helped my family. I enlisted in the U.S. Air Force, serving for four years as an aircraft maintenance specialist and attending night school. After my discharge, I continued working in aircraft maintenance in Columbus, Mississippi.

The work paid the bills, but something was missing. I remember a cold, rainy night beneath an aircraft, with oil and fuel dripping down and rain running into my eyes. I knew I wanted a different future.

Two weeks later, my mom called. She was opening a Vietnamese restaurant and asked if I wanted to come home to help with the jewelry store. It was the sign I needed. I packed my bags.

Historical photo placement: Van’s military portrait or aircraft maintenance days.

Historical photo placement: Ann and Van together, or Van behind the counter at Ann’s Jewelry.

The Keys and the Promise

I came home at 24, eager to begin a new chapter. Just a week later, my mother handed me the keys to Ann’s Jewelry. Her restaurant needed more time than she had expected, and the jewelry store was now my responsibility.

She reminded me to treat customers with honor and respect, and to welcome them like family. She also reminded me what jewelry really means. People are giving a piece of their heart. The quality should honor that feeling and be made to last.

It was a baptism by fire, but the spark had become a flame. I refreshed the store, learned the business day by day, and studied at night after work, earning diamond and gemstone certificates from the Gemological Institute of America.

I brought my own vision to the business, but the way I cared for people came from my mother.

A Dream Takes Shape in Snellville

As Ann’s Jewelry grew, I dreamed of a freestanding showroom. I saved, purchased property on Scenic Highway, and in 2001 began building a place of our own.

Every detail mattered: the parking, the showroom layout, the display colors, the front tower, and the copper-colored roof. When we moved from our little shop into the new building, I renamed the business Van Adams Jewelers.

In 2011, we expanded again, adding room for more jewelry and growing our repair workshop into a custom design and manufacturing facility with CAD design, casting, and detailed diamond-setting capabilities.

Today, that building is a familiar Snellville landmark. To me, it is also a reminder of my mother’s determination, the kindness that brought our family here, and the community that helped us grow.