Tag: Black Friday

Reflections of my life

” I am changing everything” …Like Holden Caulfield, catcher in the Rye.

“Oh I don’t want to die..”. The future that I once fret is my current present.

“All my sorrows”….were for nothing. They said 90% of our worries didn’t materialize.  Yet we keep worrying. Like a plague. Dec 21st or 23rd (Mayan Calendar).

Just shop til we drop ( even right after 9/11).

The world is, a bad place, a terrible place to live (lyrics).

The hardest part is to face and live with one’s self.

Tend not to those urges ( self-sabotage and self-destruction.)

Who planted them there? Those seeds? So the Earth would be less populated?

Take me back, to my own home (Lyrics).

Those GI‘s who listened to this song from a transistor radio, deep in the thick jungle of Vietnam. Have they often reflected on that experience? The Amerasian children they left behind? The bodies and chemical agents?

Who won that war? Or any war for that matter!

Perhaps both sides have lost.

Lives destroyed, and environment contaminated .

Bombs and napalms have fallen here when “Reflections of My Life” was at the top of the chart.

A generation of young people were forced to grow up really fast, to reflect on death and dying, to ask hard questions.

All my crying (lyrics)

It hurts to face separation, from neighbors and friends. The comfort zone.

Gone forever. Like a movie reel that got torn at one of the splices.

Tran Hung Dao, the Sea General, was back to sea (his imprint was on the then currency). Dust comes to dust.

In Vietnam, it’s considered “luck” to run into a funeral, not a wedding.

Yet, with Christmas season in tow, I saw 2 weddings this morning.

It’s peace-time Vietnam. The Wedding Hall is named “FOREVER“.

More optimistic in outlook now.

Fewer funerals, more weddings.

Less “reflections  of my life”, and more “accumulation of stuff”.

One thing is missing here: Black Friday shopping. That was because, American landed here back in 1965, Pleiku and not Plymouth. Hence  there was no Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. No turkey dinner. Just another weekend of laundry, coffee and a rare treat from the band. You can guess what they played here.

Yes, Reflections of My Life.  Take me to my own home (lyrics). Holden Caulfield got expelled from school. Not wanting to go back home just yet. Just ride the rail, the taxi, and anything that moves, with no particular stop in mind. The journey is the reward.

Bleed purple!

Red States Blue States United. Bleed purple.

Gotta to reach across the aisles.

Gotta to overcome complacency and condescending.

The time it takes to come up with a retort could be spent for constructive use.

Nobody has the right to the last word.

History is dynamic and constantly being re-written.

(If you read Church History you get one version, and in Howard Zinn‘s, you get a different one).

Your ex’s might say nasty things about you, but your kids might not.

Some high school buddies remember me for appearing on TV as part of the school’s dance group (incidentally, my daughter has been in the US number 1 hip hop team as well).

Back to Bleed Purple.

The nation and the world have waited.

For action, not talks.

For remedy, not diagnose.

We are all grown-ups caught in dire circumstance. Tonight, as I was leaving the gym, I saw a homeless man pushing a shopping cart full of garbage bags, all black, except for a guitar on top. He was pushing it up hill, but to nowhere in particular. Just keep moving.

Einstein says life is like riding a bicycle. You just have to keep pedaling.

When I jog in the park, I keep one foot in front of the other. And before I knew it, I was jogging.

I don’t understand bureaucracy, red tape and the politics of politics.

(Heard somewhere that it costs about a couple of hundred thousands for the government to create one job).

That money could raise a whole child in the US, put him/her through college and become an active participant in society (virtuous cycle).

Think purple.

Back to basics.

I heard the re-elected President recap on what made America great.

Among the core values was tolerance.

Bleed purple.

No more campaign after the election.

Now is the time to carry out those promises, those cheap sound bites wrapped in expensive ads.

Now is the time to reach out across the aisle and make those compromises.

Start early, like Walmart shoppers, if you want something badly.

The only time I saw the spirit of America was in the darkness of  morning (we call it Black Friday), yet the place was ransacked, with nothing left to buy except for Halloween candies (post season) and school supplies (also off-season).

Wonder if by the time politics is set aside there will be anything worthwhile to discuss or carry out. Or people simply got fed up, and dropped out altogether. Bleed purple. The sum of our strength is stronger than our personal weakness. Red or Blue, we got your Achille’s heels covered. No easy day.

Anchor kids

Although “Last Men Out” tells a story about the last Marines on the last day of Vietnam, readers still learn a great deal about the Vietnamese “group culture”. Many workers of the former US  embassy were on the list to be “chopper” out (Operation Frequent Wind). It just so happened that the gardener of the embassy came in the back gate (his work place) with a long rope that tied all his relatives so they wouldn’t be cut off. The marine could only authorize those on the list. The gardener’s reply: you chose for me.

Story like that repeats itself on Pan Am last flights (three-fold increase) as well.

Later, we saw the waves of Boat People in 1980-1990.

And finally, just an “anchor kid” here and there to send home money.

I did not think of my now divorced wife as an “anchor kid” until it dawn on me, that’s what happened.

Inadvertently, I was pushed into playing the benevolent, guilt-ridden 7th fleet which I had once been on.

We have come in full circle.

Now, she is free to go “black friday” shopping (for an I-pad).

I meant to title this blog as “I hate Steve Jobs“, but in the Vietnamese tradition, we try not to speak ill of the dead.

So, here I am, on the clock at a neighborhood Internet gaming center, next to rowdy kids, while my wife, having spent ten years in the US, called to ask how she could get wi-fi in our home in Palm Beach, FL.

Again, I have to play the role of an remote IT administrator.

In the tradition of “tech and multi-cultural marketing”, this blog is both personal and reflective of a larger trend: people will do what is necessary to rise to the next level on the Maslow scale. Next year, there will be another version of the “Ipad” probably in a Palo Alto garage, in time for Black Friday.

Being savvy and quick to adapt, Vietnamese families barely finish wiping their tears at the airport before sending their next “anchor kid”. It’s both a burden and a badge (of honor).  Escalade, Lexus, and Camry will be bought on installment, not to interfere with set allowance for families back home.

Mexican, Filippino and Chinese workers in the US follow the same immigration pattern (wage arbitrage). The US costs of service and goods are subsidized by millions of personal stories like my cousin’s.

She saved up to send her oldest boy to America.

I first met him back in 1990, as a bus boy in Orange County.

Next thing I heard, he already turned manicurist, then he and his wife, owned a nail shop in Chicago.

Later, his wife died, left him with a pair of twin daughters, and a life insurance compensation. He then upgraded to a plush salon in Dallas, TX (and remarried, perhaps to another “anchor kid”).

With his income, he sent home to bring his youngest brother to the US to complete his PhD in mathematics.

Next thing I know, his youngest brother is now full professor at a Vietnam’s private University (all in English, I believe).

Anchor kids. Lifting one boat at a time. Some want I-pad, others PhD.

Unstoppable.

Same people who pulled the heavy canons up the hill of Dien Bien Phu.

Same people who would not leave any relative behind at the back door of the US embassy.

Same people who fended off not two but three wars with next to nothing to eat.

The US has bogged down in two wars at the tune of Trillion Dollars. Maybe there are some take-aways here.s Just imagine how humiliated for privileged boy to start as a bus boy and nail boy. Then, the anchor kid serves as a monkey bridge for next kids to cross. To their credits they don’t burn the bridge. As of latest figure, Vietnam now ranks 8th highest number of students attending US colleges and universities. The line for foreign students’ visas now stretches long and winding at the same spot where  “Last Men Out” was depicted. At least, this time, they are not tied together by the gardener’s rope. But still with the same script “You choose for us”. Anchor kids.

Thanksgiving, tradition and technology

While almost everyone in the US gathers around the traditional meal, here in Vietnam, some people come up with a way to marry tradition with technology: ancestor worship online.

Its highway to eternity has 10,000 plots, already booked for burial and continued ceremonial service online (to accommodate overseas relatives and those who have resettled to urban centers).

Don’t be surprised to see an emerging generation of ICT engineers who ride the waves, from mobile payment to mobile commerce.

If their counterparts in Israel could come up with heritage.com, they sure can match it with ancestor worship online.

Or English learning to match Khan Academy for math tutoring,

English schools sprung up to meet the growing demand for talent infrastructure.

I-pad, I-phone, I-pod could be found at almost every street corner.

Banks are in a race to compete with traditional merchants of gold and hard currency.

One storefront builds out by adding another floor, its neighbors will one-up it ( even hiring away the neighbor’s security guard).

At lunch time (my version of Thanksgiving), I had to zigzag the busy streets to hunt for food.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my family in Virginia perhaps noticed that I missed the Turkey dinner.

A generation back, we wouldn’t know what a turkey tastes like. But I remember our grandmother staying with us, and not the nursing home. My  mom’s generosity spoke louder than all the lessons she had taught at school, whose  sign has always said “Tien Hoc Le, Hau Hoc Van” (First, learn respect, then literature).

With WordPress, LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter, I can now connect and be connected to thousands of like-minded professionals. Together we are linked for mutual benefits.

It’s an open race.

Occasionally, we pause to reflect on the past and tradition, like Thanksgiving or ancestor worship.

That too can be accommodated digitally. What can be digitized will be digitized. Except for the plot of land, where my grandmother rested in peace.

I had put down on my must-do list to visit her grave, out in the country side of Hai Duong.

But that too, might be digitally do-able.

Perhaps in the very near future, we in Virginia, can put up on the now-used-for-Karaoke screen, the burning of incense at our grandmother’s grave outside of Hai Duong. Then, it’s only a matter of the will because there already is a way.

Technology and tradition. One ushers you into the future, the other reminds you not to forget the past. Happy Thanksgiving!

Never too old to salivate

I was there on Black Friday.  95 North. Wal-Mart stop. I saw shoppers pushing carts filled with wireless printers, Blu-ray players and flat screen TV’s.

The only other time you see people taking stuff from the store in the dark was during the LA riot or Katrina.

Just as soon as one comfortably sat back and relaxed, watching the flat screen TV that the neighbor started toying with his I-pad.

Hum! One-up-man-ship doesn’t allow for rest. So, when one hears the bell ring, one  salivates….for an I-pad or I-pod. Give me some of that (When Harry Met Sally‘s line, the only speaking part by the Director’s mom).

Then, I stopped at Potomac Mills outside of Washington D.C.. The sign says “Never too old”, urging seniors to take souvenir photo with Santa (who was probably younger under the disguise).

American mall= Chinese showroom. Still the same Holiday ornaments,

same jingles. But shoppers came from somewhere else (nation capital’s immigrants), and goods shipped from where else, besides our factory to the world.

On Cyber Monday, Amazon put on its PR face by showing conveyor belts and its shipping facility in AZ, one of its many regional centers. I know, I know. When you are without a retail store presence, you would want people to see your brick-and-mortar backroom.

Krispy Creme even displays its signature Glaze donuts transformed from dough to donut. (Madonna beat them to the punch: she wore underwear outside, then Jane Fonda picked up on that in her work-out video).

Adam Smith praised the Invisible Hand that regulates the free market.

Then we called in government’s Strong Hand to save it from going under.

The tri-cycle economy is rolling (Black Friday, Cyber Monday and Saturday before Christmas). Keep salivating. We need another pair of socks and one more beanie hat, even when global warming clearly is pushing winter out for another two months – no need to meet and discuss the weather in Cancun. Stay here in N America!).

Still, never too old. A lady shopper pushed her walker slowly uphill out in the parking lot. She probably was looking forward to that Friday morning more than anyone else.

In looking at her, I realized we as a nation were going to win another Shopping race.

We have practiced to salivate much quicker – as soon as the bell rings. No offense. In China, they look at one another, and feel ashamed of personal gratification at the expense of the group. Personal saving rate is higher than US’. And this slows them down, leaving the US once again the Consumer of the Year, or any other year.