Tag: John Lennon

Softer side of Soft Power

In the end of A Christmas Holiday, our Somerset Maugham‘s character went back to his middle-class comfort zone but quite aware of his “plastic” existence. This was right after he had spent a week in Paris, meeting Lydia, a Russian gypsy whose suffering life was nothing Charlie had ever imagined.

I couldn’t help think of a parallel to what America was going through: having involved with a suffering Europe and came home with a G.I Bill, went through a life-altering experience and education. Then we got a Kerry who once testified before Congress as an anti-war camouflage-wearing activist (John Lennon-like) , just to find himself decades later on the other side of the mike.

Softer side of Soft Power.

War-weary country, post-industrial America no longer wants to play global cop, regardless of the nature of mass weapon violation.

We truly are entering the Post-American era whose first phase leaves a huge void to be filled by a host of BRIC countries.

(NATO now stands for No Action, Talk Only).

In short, when the world calls 911, there is no answer.

Only a recording that says “we are short of resources and too compassion-fatigued to be involved, please call back at another time. Sorry for the inconvenience this may have caused”.

And that recording might be generated from a pre-recorded upload from India.

Syria or India, to an average American in this post-Recession era, is the same.

Kids need shoes, need to be dropped off and picked up. Groceries in the freezer and fast food at the second drive-through window.

That’s about it.

Please don’t bother us Please do not show us any photo of mass massacre, or influx of refugees to Lebanon and Turkey.

We might enjoy a vacation or a movie set in Istanbul (Taken 2), but we prefer marginal exposure, not deep engagement.

Yet, there has been a significant rise in NGO’s treasure chest during this Recession.

Where is our sense of priority?

Back from our Christmas Holiday, to same old La-Z-Boy chair , feeling life returns to normalcy.

We might have met a few real-life characters whose suffering we could only imagine. But then, it’s better to let sleeping dog lie.

Even Soft Power has its limits (we no longer talk about Hard Power). State is leading Pentagon, but then Russia is now in center stage. Where are Britain, Germany and France?

The so-called Lords of Finance?

In a Post-American World, the power vacuum is up for grabs But no one is big enough and “naive” enough to step up to the plate.

Perhaps there will be a new “NATO”, one that acts only, and no talk at all.

Our Somerset Maugham’s character did give Lydia some money. He felt good about giving. He had a wonderful Christmas Holiday in Paris, the Louvre and the London’s status-quo existence. Will life ever be the same after each human encounter?

The answer lies in whether there is a softer side of Soft Power. I believe American at heart are people with a softer side.

It is finding its footing and balance after a period of growing pain. Mr Kerry wasn’t shunned by first turning into an anti-war, then a pro-war and finally the Geneva deal. Maybe someone will pick up the 911 call after all. It’s called a change of heart. That call can be routed anywhere in the world, It’s called follow-the- sun technology and follow-your-heart ecology.

je pense

Have you ever looked back at those goals you had set right out of college?

Marriage? Career? Health?

Then and Now. Perhaps they still remain the same or in reverse order.

No one set out with a goal of multiple marriages.

Or multiple careers.

Yet it has happened, taken most of us by surprise. On a macro scale, the same speed of change has occurred,  right after a State Visit of Chinese Leaders to a Texas range ( Deng wearing a cowboy hat), then the Soviet Leader advertised for Pizza Hut, sitting in the back of a limousine.

Bang! No more Cold War. Only hot food.

Berlin Walls down. Firewalls up.  Mainframe on Main Street, albeit smaller and smarter.

Our expectations have gone through multiple adjustments: fast food and fast divorce, financing and financial rescue (individual and institutional level; fiscal cliff?)

Nuclear families melt down, just as nuclear reactors did (Three Mile Island, Chernobyl and Fukushima).

Neil Young now grows old (Old Man Looks at my Life…) but Bob Seger is Still The Same.

Yoko Ono exhibits  John Lennon’s Art Works, instead of hers.

So we adapted. Bob Dylan said we always reinvented the past, because the Present and Future are both unknown.

Shirley Maclaine would vehemently disagree. She went all the way, claiming to have married with the Roman Emperor himself, albeit in his  reincarnated version as a Swedish prime minister.

What do I make of all these forward/backward worldviews? I have been told to keep my head down (slurping my cup-a-noodle?). Don’t think much. Then I heard the music “Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow”.

Then I start being futuristic: electric vehicles, solar energy and stem cells.

Those unknowns are fascinating. They bring new designs to auto and home building industries. They bring new jobs.

New hope.

America in the late 50’s had its mojo.

For those who are not afraid to set high goals, beyond just marriage, career and health, the future belongs to them.

Stay hungry, stay foolish. Think different. Je pense. Rodin’s statue of the Thinker could use some imagination ( sitting on a newly designed toilet seat, for instance)

Bill Gates is trying to do just that. Now, he starts to pick up from his friend Steve Jobs, some diversion thinking. The future belongs to those who are not completely satisfied with what now exists. Contentment or progress? Keep your head down or look up to the stars? Busy with Moon walk (Michael Jackson) or Mars Rover?

Your choice. I was just thinking out loud. It would be nice to have you join us. Imagine. And the world will be one.

The guitarist

A Quoc Tri could be heard at Cafe Vuong Tron, GoVap on Sunday morning and M-evenings.

Other nights, you can catch him at Cafe S, near Du Mien, in Phu Nhua District.

This morning his band mate commented him on letting his hair out, and not pony-tailed.

We even took an I-phone pic of him, with LOVE on black T.

His style diverse, his manner unassuming.

He recycles his musician(s) often, but only on Sundays.

The only constant is that synthesizing box.

“I am a believer”, with harmonica by A Tri.

Then his guest musician went on with Oh Mon Amour by Christophe.

During rescess, he asked the establishment to turn on recorded music.

Except this morning, we already had a funeral band next door to fill in the silence.

I wasn’t in the mood this morning (last night’s storm kind of rubbed off on me).

But I was glad I came.

His guest guitarist told me he played regularly on Bonsai (Japanese tree), a cruise in Khanh Hoi (ticket up to $39 per guest, including buffet and live entertainment, mostly Filippino).

“Not a lot of people still request Reflections of my life“, said he.

Yes. I was freezeframed in that time and that period.

Sort of Kafkaesque. Man’s fate. My fate. The execution order has already been issued. Just waiting.

Meanwhile, one more stanza.

One more Cafe Sua Da (Iced coffee milk).

One more Beautiful Sunday.

Younger crowd tried to engage, looked interested.

They listened and watched at the same time (one long hair guy, the other with John Lennon‘s glass, both w/ guitars and mikes, like Cosby, Still and Nash).

Teach your children well.

Many knew not what had preceded. War and Peace.

But for now, I want to rest. Want to let the singers do the singing, and guitarists do the strumming.

At least people showed up. Morning show. Weekly. Under the gazibo. Under the trees. Under the umbrellas. Please keep in touch. Please keep on playing.

One constant in a world in constant flux. A Quoc Tri, 8 shows a week.

Play element

We seem to have lost touch with the play aspect in life and work.

I am thinking of John Lennon and Steve Jobs at the moment.

Both pursued their passion, and both were dead.

One married interracially, the other just loved all things simple (even foods).

They were famous, and still are, although they could not take that with them.

Their legacy is huge. Just listen to #9 Dream on the I-pod.

Sit back and have a siesta.

Then you’ll know what I mean.

How can someone who sang about dream but brought us so much life!

Could it be that life is all illusion? Then within an illusion we can still dream up another?

I was at my best when company’s culture encourages creativity, collaboration and tons of energy.

When it’s a chore, we lost the play element.

Conversely, when it’s play, it’s no longer a chore.

To serve with gladness.

Love those we interact with. Just love them first, as a person, then our service to their need will be an extension of that human connection.

You can tell when a singer just sings for the money. To him/her, it’s just a gig. He/she faked the emotion.

But once in a while, we feel sad or lonely, or abandoned. then a song seems to voice our feelings.

Then we  got a hit. It’s a hot night. The heart feels glad. There is vibration, that feeling of being alive and realizing it at the same time.

No Play, the world see only zombies and walking dead.

Dream on. And on and on. Jobs did not believe in the off switch.

My left eye

A speck of dust hit my left eye.

It’s all red and feels painful.

Then I thought of my friend from Junior High.

He was drafted and went to war.

Just to come back with one eye left.

We have hung out at cafe, more than any other classmate since that time.

Just a few nights ago, I said goodbye to him before he went back States.

I can relate to his condition just now: he has seen and will continue see his world with only half his vision.

However, it’s he who has been in better spirits than I.

His memories serve him better than most people.

A black-belt in Tai Kwan Do, he manages to live independently for years before getting married  late in life.

Even after surviving a stroke, he still carries himself with full optimism.

I guess when you have less to see with, you filter less, hence see more.

In 11 years since we reconnected, I have heard not a self-pity word out of his mouth.

The funny thing is, those who have never been in the battle field bragged about it more.

Until they come face to face with his fake eye. Those with one mouth and two eyes decide to speak less and see more.

For me, one’s full body parts are irrelevant when it comes to friendship. Just shared time and shared memories.

We accept each other, taking turn at talking. Our group have music and movies lovers. We were not into power or the struggle for it. I wish for him safe passage and quick jet-lag recovery. Since he paid for our coffee last Monday, the next time it will be on me.

My left eye, although hurt, yet helps me appreciate  my friend more. Better than other days, when I got both eyes but saw less. (We can now fade in Lennon‘s Oh My Love…for the first time in my life, my eyes can see).

First, learn respect!

After transitioning from a French elementary school to a Vietnamese middle-school, on my first day of school,  I saw “First learn respect, then learn literature”.

My brother’s generation at the same school had been from the same mold (his classmates are still staying in touch).

No wonder they showed up at my Mom’s funeral in a cold winter day in Virginia , out of respect.

To see the sight of my brother’s classmates, my upperclassmen (most of whom accomplished MD’s and Pharmacists)  bowing with incense in hand, stirred something up in me .

Inside those “tough” shells were hearts of gold.

It is repeating today with my classmates.

A “party” (memorial) fund for our dear musician friend who had just passed away.

Since he was cremated in a private ceremony, we rally to chip in for his kids, to turn grieving into giving.

Coordination takes place across the Pacific, with the free help of technology (yahoo group).

First, learn respect.

I don’t know how much we will eventually collect, but I know my friend’s kids will grow up knowing that daddy’s friends care.

I know Long’s kids will take on some of his musical legacy.

Someday, if I survive to hear one of them perform, I will once again be reminded that there is no such a thing as “the day the music dies”.

(John Lennon’s kid is now playing, George Harrison‘s kid, the same).

I remember listening to “Your Song” during siesta long ago.

But it’s just a radio.

Now, it’s Spotify.

You can take away the stereo, the juke box and the boombox, but you can’t take away music in man’s heart.

The going might get rough, but then, there is music to soothe the soul (ole time Rock and Roll).

I know my friend would be smiling, displaying his square jaws, when I blog this.

He would have joined in if he could.

Testing, and one, and two.

Every other form of learning is preceded by Respect.

It’s hard to find, as a line by Neil Young “I’ve been to Redwood, I’ve been to Hollywood…looking for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old”.

Hold on to it when you have it.

Have it when you see it.

I wouldn’t think of this blog had I not seen it in action, at my Mom’s funeral, and heard it today from my yahoo group.

I love them dearly, but first, respect.

Time, on whose side?

Just like an old-time movie, friends met yesterday to rehash.

We mentioned briefly the passing away of our friend’s brother: nerdy, good old boy and an ATM machine service man and family man. In short, the least likely candidate to die young. Yet, he had been long gone (by now 3 years).

Earth, Wind and Fire used to have a song out called “Time is on your side”.

I don’t think so.

One can conjure up various scenarios for end-of-life, but it will end regardless, without credits roll (perhaps we should get going with our acknowledgement page just in case).

Feature-length movies, by convention, last one hour and a half (same way Twitter limits a tweet to 140 characters).

Except for Costner’s and Cameron’s (Dancing with Wolves and Titanic).

Life happens while we are busy planning it (John Lennon).

It came concurrently and not sequentially:  a brief sunset, a nagging child, a teacher’s stern look.

One can find happiness in confinement (Life is Beautiful) or at the last moment (Mozart’s Requiem).

It’s not over until it is truly over

When I was 4 or 5 years old, I saw neighbors carry out a dead man .

He had lived alone in a house in the alley.

I did not know his name. Only learned later that he had died without any relatives around him.

By all measures (culturally), he died unhappily.

He could have lived twice his age then, but his death was still viewed as an unhappy one. Quality trumps quantity.

Biotech has extended our “feature-length” narrative, from one-hour-and-a-half lifescript to that of Titanic’s and Dancing with Wolves’.

What are we going to do with all those extra hours? Amusing ourselves to death while waiting for death (there hasn’t been a playbook for seniors – Paterno for instance has just passed away at 85 after getting sacked by the BOD at my school).

In Silicon Valley where Steve Jobs started out, the motto was “trust no one above 30”.

Yet, Sculley and other investment banking CEO’s pocketed huge severance despite their poor performance.

Time is on whose side?

Of course not on the side of the poor or the pure of hearts (keep the faith).

Even with director’s cut, a feature-length film still needs to be trimmed down.

As creatures of selective memories, we often edit out and reinvent our past.

Nowhere else can you find serious anticipation of the new and relinquishing of the past than in Vietnam, during Tet.

The Year of the Dragon has finally arrived. It roars, dances and puffs out fire.

We invent myths and matiarials to redefine who we are (he is from a Royal breed, a Lexus owner).

Vietnamese people  are known as descendants of Dragon and Angel. To understand Vietnam, you need to understand its literary life.

Vietnamese  honors duty above death, sacrifice above love. These tales of heroism are the baseline. “Time is on whose side” is an irrelevant question. Happiness defined as personal fulfillment is also out of the question. People here see themselves as in transit, with Earth another station along the way. Home is where ancestors are waiting, provided you had fulfilled your filial obligation and honored them by courageous living. Try to work that in the State of the Union address, and see its impact on American society? (You lied!). On the CEO’s on Wall Street. On the armed men who preyed on US campus.

America needs Vietnam as much as Vietnam needs America, since time is on neither side.

Random meet

In Vietnam, don’t be surprised when you are placed  next to a complete stranger, who knows someone who knows your host.

It happened to me at Christmas party this year.

Next to me was a Vietnamese-American returning from multiple tours in Iraq.

He was here to fly his wife out. She had flown in as well, but from Australia.

Happy ending: he was back from the war zone while she from a former one.

The company she works for has agreed to transfer her to the US.

I was like NYT‘s Friedman, marvelled at how “flat” our world had become.

A teen-age girl at the table couldn’t help “omg”, “omg” “so you’re like in Hurt Locker?”

We were trying to break the ice waiting to be served when the spot light turned to our returning soldier. Rest of the night was “omg” etc…

I couldn’t help reflect on “the Deer Hunter” syndrome, and how drastic the change had been in our reception of veterans.

This story hasn’t taken into account how high-tech this war was as compared to Vietnam. Incidentally, I read a statistic that mentioned the average life expectancy for Vietnamese: 1960-40 years, 2010 – 73 years.

No wonder it’s jam-packed “scooter nation”.

When my fellow dinner guest left on his perhaps in-law scooter, I said “if you can make it in Iraq, you can ride in Vietnam”.

We were joking about his need to keep in shape after all the good foods.

One common ice-breaking tip is “who would you choose to be dinner guest.”

Some people mentioned Bill Gates, others, Kennedy.

My favorites would be Charlie Rose, since he can draw anyone out of his/her shelf.

Barbara Walters would be interesting if she stopped being a journalist, and just be a conversationalist.

I then would invite Elton John, George Harrison and John Lennon.

Let the party begin.

Random meeting but more enlightened towards the end of the dinner.

I realise one thing after last night: you might not agree with a policy (what Mass Destruction Weapon?) but you need to accept the person, soldier or civilian. We are all floating together (Christ Church in New Zealand got struck twice sitting on the ring of Fire) on the seabed and sitting around the table together.

Disagreement or agreement, we are fellow human beings, seekers of truth and beauty. And perhaps, for a moment there, he and I were both “viet-kieu” (you need a second helping there).

Random meet, but perhaps not quite random after all. Merry Christmas soldier boy!

Faustian bargain

Most of us don’t face life-and-death decision everyday (gaining the world but losing our soul). Leave that to Caligula or Gaddafi.

Yet, a less wealthy Syrian, whose background had been oblivious even to himself, still got some press. Steve Jobs can still sell some books.

Like you, I was curious. So I browsed his biography. One snippet about Steve: he lived for ideas and did not mind recruiting the best of talents, wherever they might be : foreign country or far-out competitor (Dropbox was an example). We all read his introduction in Guy Kawasaki’s Reality Check. Or about his last meal out (penchant for the Far East, relics from his early days seeking enlightenment). To this day, no one could explain why not once, but twice, some Beta versions of the I-phone managed to show up in Hanoi.

One man used his oil wealth to buy influence in Africa (calling himself King of Kings… the sun would never set on his Empire).

The other, used his sense of abandonment to “think different”.

Although both were ambitious, the market chose to follow Steve’s lead. We knew he would not settle. And he emphatically said so (Standford Address).

When I left my local Barnes and Nobles, I turned around and saw all those hard-cover books stacking up, all had Steve Job’s staring out the window.

As if to remind me not to settle.

I am sure people at Apple Inc and Apple stores still feel his midas touch. The book cover captures that magical feel, like the all-white room in John Lennon‘s “Imagine” video. Simplicity in life and in death.

Once in a thousand years, out of the abundant gene pool, emerged a few geniuses, in Physics (Einstein), in Arts (Van Gogh), in Music (Elvis), in Aviation (Wright brothers) or in Technology (Jobs).

Although we don’t face the Faustian bargain  on a daily basis, we have much to gain thanks to them. Now the burden is on us to make the most of this treasure trove. Go and invent your iNext.  Stay hungry and stay foolish.

Never let them go!

B3, CVA

Black and White. Grainy. Shirts and Skins.

Friends from junior-high , whom I shared the ping-pong tables and school canteen.

We sat through civic lessons, English lessons, Math tests and Lab tests.

The photo must have been taken at one of those off-site PE classes.

I learned about honor, honesty and history; the institution and the Constitution. Friends looked out for friends, clique against clique.

Pass the ball, you selfish b…

Play your guitar but with less volume!

(Invaders from a rival school) They are coming (so we stuck together , believing there were safety in numbers.) Often times, we got a kick out of pulling pranks on our English teachers or being chased by the Priest who tried to protect his church lawn.

And inch by inch, we grew from boys to men.

I remember being picked for the school magazine sales team (to visit nearby high schools – notably co-ed) and learned to pitch (and got my first date with daughter of a furniture store owner).

I reached out to new classmate, made new friends in our high school band.

John Lennon‘ s Imagine served as background music, to place us in context

(classes resumed normal after the Tet 68 incident).

I grew up with those now-men-with-wives-and-grown–up-children.

We weren’t fully grown men back then. In school uniform, crew-cut and unbounded energy, we roamed the school yard: volley ball, football and ping-pong.

During recess, everybody ran, jumped and rushed from one place to the next.

Recently, one of the guys on the Skin team just dropped in (via a phone call). It forced me to look up old photos, among which, one of mine, taken at a cousin’s wedding.

You can run from the past, but you can’t hide.

Sure, the waist line grew and hair-line receded. Just signs of maturity, which means hard-earned lessons in character formation i.e. learning to deal with intuition and inhibition.

When you know someone from high school, you know him well.

After all, habits were formed during those years: taste for food (not fast-food), for fashion (bell bottom) and for friendship (tribal kinship).

We listened to Elton John’s “Your Song“, theme song for a siesta-induced radio program.

“I’ll buy a big house,….” or Seasons in the Sun “skin our head and skin our knees”. I knew then just as now, that the ride wouldn’t last. And that fate will alter our course (after all, we were living in war-time).

And I wrote in our Wall Poster that year “whichever turn we end up taking,

let’s greet one another later in life as if no time had passed in between”.

I sure hope for this at our reunion.

I sure hope I can still recognize some of them.

And most importantly, to find myself once again, as seen by others.

Of all the ills society exacts on us,  the worst is self-alienation.

I am still stuck with a desktop and have not had I-pad 1, much less I-pad 2.

But I refuse to be viewed from a materialistic stand point. We were put there in the same class by our nearest grade distribution.

To be among peers as we walk down memory lane is a luxury. That’s where a man can for a moment, experience reverse transformation back to a boy. This time, please pass the beer! You can have the ball. I miss them already, those guys in grainy Black and White photo, the only class picture I have in my possession after years of moving around.

This time, I will never let them go.

P.S. We ran into one of the guys in that same picture this past summer, after 40 years of drifting apart. Wow!