Every move you make

The 80’s music if you can recall: Boy George, the Police and Bowie. Concert for Bangladesh (My Sweet Lord) and of course, Eurythmics. Every move you make….I’ll be watching.

My niece, in one of the early pictures, stood in the background, while I, foreground. She was watching me and whoever took the photo.

We’re never quite alone. Not now, not ever. With ubiquitous mini-cameras, drones, and surveillance satellites in the age of AI. Good luck. Privacy? what’s that! Crime is down? perhaps a bit deterred, but never gone away.

The camera inside our head is called memory. I was born right after the partition of Vietnam. Throughout my childhood, I had been watching every move everyone made: the way my Dad combed his hair, slick back with “brilliantine”, how my principle wore his glasses, or the head teacher walked around hands behind (hiding the long stick).

I watched the war outside, and the war inside my family. Then how the war inside of me acted out after years of watching, absorbing via osmosis. The education of me. Albeit contrarian and countercultural, like Bob Dylan who rebelled against the rebellious 60’s by turning to religion in the 80’s. “Gotta serve somebody…Yeah, indeed”.

God has been watching over him. The machine over me. And my niece over all of us. She turned out OK BTW. Thanks for asking. Now her daughters are watching her, in turn. We learn from role models. My sister’s hair on her wedding day looked just like that of the Dragon Lady’s (Madam Nhu). The Diem’s brothers, the Kennedy’s and the Mario’s. Watching one another in the way of dress and even mannerism.

We know, or should know, everything is an illusion. Yet we seek status and want to rise above everyone else, with wings made out of wax. Like Icarus flying high toward the Sun. All the while hoping others are watching our spectacular ascent (soon descent, since what rises must come down). One exception. Our protagonist Holden Caulfield, across the street, shooing his beloved sister away. Please go home. Stop following me. Stop modeling after me. Live your life. However, it turns out. You’re not in my charge or I yours.

I did not say anything to my niece. Did not even know she was in the background of the photo. I was just struggling to make it through the 80’s, this side of the Cold War after getting out of a proxy Hot one. Gotta serve somebody, yeah indeed… Every move you make, every step you take…I sure hope Our God on high has been watching. Making notes and marking down all my faults and favors. One day soon, when this life/illusion ends. He and I will have a sit-down to square it all away. Can’t wait. Meanwhile, it’s time for another concert, not for Bangladesh, but Balochistan (Pakistan) (I want to see you Lord, but it takes so long my Lord, my sweet Lord).