Tag: Paul Anka

Cancer and Career

At Van’s Cafe Ho Chi Minh City, if you stayed til the end of their second set of music, you would no longer hear Truc Vy doing her closing songs. She performed her set last week for the last time. Despite her late-stage throat cancer, she gave her best with composure and courage. I did not know that at the time. Just noticed how much of that vocal grace could come out from so little of a body. Now I understood.

Cancer-causing death also took  my friend, an accomplished pianist, two years ago.

And last week, it started to put down the name of its next victim.

There is a new singer in that slot now at Van’s Unforgettable.

The show must go on, like life itself.

But how many would pause to remember  someone, frail and fragile, now under traditional treatment in the country side.

They say when someone sings, he/she opens up his/her soul to you.

Like at the Voice final last night. 4 finalists. Only one winner. But we saw four raw souls on display.

To the watching eyes of million.

Truc Vy perhaps won’t go down as a late great Rock singer in the Hall of Fame.

But her dignity and demonstration of the human spirit actually propels her to the top, however short a time.

In her end, her beginning.

Diva she is not.

But Death is not her enemy either. She seems to embrace it like a part of life, in this case, quite fleeting.

It lends new meaning  to each day, each note, and each number she performs.

Now I know where that inner strength was from. From her months of wrestling with the invisible enemy within her.

Like my friend before her who smiled more than I did when we  met for the last time.

And who gave me more advice and care than I could him.

Why does it take that much for someone to wake up, to be more humanized and appreciative of life!

For me, I notice someone’s absence more than their presence. Call it delay reaction.

But in looking back to my now deceased parents, whose DNA definitely stay on in me,  I learn one thing: their time with me when their lives and mine intersected, was a gift. I opened that gift and used it. It’s a one-time thing. Unrepeatable and fully appreciated only by looking back. “Your children live through you”, like a line in the last stanza of Paul Anka‘s Papa.

Life is such a trip that no one seems to get out alive. But while at it, we make the best of that gift, including the gift of music. In Truc Vy’s case, it’s her performance on stage, with voice riding over the loud instruments and clatter of toasting, to reign supreme in a class of its own. No, Truc Vy wasn’t a participant nor winner of the Voice last night. She was perhaps at home, in the countryside, viewing it  on live TV. But at Van’s Cafe, she will always be missed, especially when it’s time for the last set.

A set is not a set without Truc Vy. Please come back to me….in Casablanca or at the Cafe.

 

Again

Thought I saw the last of it. Snow again.

The element of surprise, overused, lessened with each encore.

I saw Paul Anka the other day on PBS. He did it “his way”.

And then another encore.

Again. The audience was on their feet, not wanting to leave.

But then, everything, including good times, has to end.

There are lessons about Exit.

When you are dismissed, no miracle can turn someone whose mind has been made up.

This gave rise to the Colombo close i.e. start leaving, then bang, turn around to play dumb (w/Lt Colombo’s slanted eye): “oh, one more thing”.

Then, start again, with the Summary sales pitch.

On YouTube there was a clip entitled “Passed on”. Something similar to a digital scrapbook,

to be seen and shared after you have died. That’s an “Again”, with tag line: “Love in the Digital Age“. An E.will.

I have had the opportunity to learn a few things about my very grown bother and sister.

These are non-digital people. So they won’t be recording stuff on Passed On or anything near it.

What they do show me was my parent’s death certificates, refugee camp exit papers and life insurance policies accounts.

It’s like attending my parent’s funeral again, without the distraction of relatives and visitors.

Exit with a small “e”.

No wonder the place has a smell of decay. Buried in the snow. Closure!

On the flip side and brighter side, I have met new-born babies of the clan, seeing them all grown.

Winter and death, as set-ups for Spring and New Life.

With nature cycle, business cycle and yes, War-Peace cycle (Iraq 10 years on) I come away more  in-formed. Those who wait the cycle out will eventually see changes coming the other way. In the event one can’t hang on, digital services like Passed On can help with E.will. To be seen and heard, Again, albeit virtually and digitally. Paul Anka’s Papa would have been proud that his legacy was preserved and passed on. The footage should show “those shoes on my feet”.

Switching the script

On film set, writer is often called out on short notice to fix the dialogue.

Something is better left unsaid or sounded odd when in “live” context.

In life, we can’t retrace our steps to switch the script.

It’s live, and happened once only.

There lies the importance of getting the right words first time around.

Another way to lessen the impact of misspoken words, is to come out immediately and retract.

Even the NYT does that.

When the facts are not straight, when a character is mis-portrayed, the best way for editors to damage control is to come out clean.

We happen to live on this side of the communication (data) explosion.

Facts and fiction are both out there.

As mentioned in Brand America a few blogs ago, people do come here and reinvent themselves e.g. name change (anglicized), hair-coloring and new wardrobe. Voila! Boy George and Bieber. Entertainers and sports idols are hot. They are more than hot. They sell merchandise.

Just Do  It.

After all, we move about our days, filtering ads and spam mail.

No wonder we long for those “in” mail.

Someone cares enough to probe and not to pitch.

And we in turn empathize with their plights, the pressures they are under.

If only we could switch the script. Living a new life and assuming a new persona.

Like when we were kids, imagining we had just been adopted by our real parents.

We wished for another life, another script (if only the writer were standing by as fixer).

Then we would be reclaimed, taken back to the castle and live a happy life ever after.

When I grew up, there was such a story. Of a half-breed (African-Vietnamese). Co Ba Xi. The man who had fathered her left only to come back years later as King of his tribe. Vietnamese Cinderella. But that’s just one jewel among a variety of Immigrant stories, ranging from model minority stories to loser’s stories.

One last thing about scripting. As long as we live out our story, and not someone else’s.

At the end of all travel is to return to the same place and to know ourselves for the first time.

It is often said, life is 10 per cent action and 90 per cent reaction. When a large part of life is lived out of reaction instead of proactive, we are not living our life script. Paul Anka would be proud to hear his “My Way” sung by 7 Billion.

Why wait for the writer to come to our rescue?

We are the writers, we are the world.

While still alive, we can switch the script, reinvent the characters, and overcome the challenges.

As long as we know what we want.

Or seek help. There are people who are gentle and kind (not just in San Francisco or down in the Bayou), and whose advice are plenty and fitting (learned this in Vietnam. People still give out free advice as if they were still living in a village).

I am indebted to professionals on LinkedIn, who endorsed my skill set and characters.

I am grateful for “followers” . People who trek the trail of current Recession and the trajectory of Social Media.

What a time we are living in, and what a company we are keeping. Just as we thought we should throw in the towel, then comes help.

I am the sum of my relationships. Two old people in their early 40’s were still at it, hence, creating me.

Now I live out that script, all the while hoping to switch those last pages.

Hope to read about your multi-chapter, multi-tasking life whose script is not written in stone, but evolving with unpredictable twist and turn and whose ending is happy albeit not perfect.