Tag: Vietnam

The more the merrier

Next week, we welcome Earth’s 7 Billionth baby into our human family.

When I was born, relatives came to the hospital to visit (as commonly observed even today, in Vietnam). B/W photos were taken and sent up North for our extended families to “take notes”. The more the merrier. Nobody cared who Malthus was. If you showed up, one more bowl and a pair of chopsticks were all you need. In fact, the most common greeting was “have you eaten yet”. Memories of those early days came to me, often because of large family gatherings, with meals on the altar, and meals on the table.

We commemorated ancestors’ anniversary more than celebrated newcomers’ birthday.

In fact, I found out that my grandfather used to share lunch with more than a dozen people at a time. Obviously, he didn’t need “Never eat alone” advice.

Fast forward to our digital era with Siri apps and Google unmanned vehicles, we find a world obsessed with pharma instead of farming.

Instead of taking vitamin pills (whose latest studies have shown to be ineffectual), people are taking pain-relieving pills, sleeping pills and birth-control pills.

The Boeing 787 flight between Tokyo and Hong Kong inaugurated the Pacific Century, as much as Lindbergh’s American Century.

Population growth tilts toward BRIC countries. Yet in the US, there is a shortage of skilled workers since the babyboomers are retiring en mass.

BTW, to give credits where they deserve, trusted Sales Representatives are still in demand, despite recent push in productivity and automation.

People still buy from people and have lunch (connecting) with people.

Yet Sales has been and still is considered non-academic, hence it is excluded from the curriculum ( per latest issue of  theEconomist).

Back to 7 Billion of us whose life expectancy will be in the 70’s (hint, larger fonts and slower driving).

Besides strength in numbers, we live in the most open-minded global society ever. Even the cash-rich Kennedys had to face “religion” issue when campaigning back in the 60’s. Now, you can be openly gay, happily married and run for public office. What used to be “alternative” has become “conventional”.

And the new China’s middle class. Boy oh boy! When they shop, they shop till they drop. I happened to witness their Japanese counterparts in the late 80’s half-way to Las Vegas, at an outlet stop. I wonder how much more aggressive Mainland shoppers will act after their wins at the table.

Back in the late 70’s, after the Oil Embargo, many thought we had reached the “limits to growth”.  Somehow, we managed to clean up Alaska and Louisiana, Hiroshima and Fukushima .

The MIT and the MITI, Korean and Vietnamese, all work hard in a race against the Machine. When Malthus predicted that we had reached Earth’s limits, he did not foresee the coming of the Machine. German software engineers help VW propel  pass Toyota, while Samsung pass Sony and Apple in tablet sales. Bring it on, globally.

Long ago, when we commemorated our grandmother’s anniversary, my mom  always planned extra bowls and chopsticks . The more, the merrier; but I can now put away the extra bowl and chopsticks, since proponents of automation argue that machines don’t sleep and eat. Win-win. Will see.

In the mirror

Among Dylan’s many memorable lines is “you don’t need the weatherman to tell you which way the wind is blow-in”.

Even without the weatherman, we can feel that things are at a boiling point.

Like in the movie “the Network”, people start to open their windows and bell out “I am mad like Hell, and I won’t take it anymore”.

Except this time, instead of opening their windows, they opened Windows and Adbuster, which called for Occupy Wall Street (and McToilet on Wall Street).

A leaderless protest against figure-less forces that have worked against them e.g. commoditization, globalization, or automation.

Their 60’s counterparts wanted to rage against the status quo.

Conversely, “occupiers of Wall Street” just want to have an occupation that pays a little more than “nickel-and-dime”.

The wind is blowin but not in their favor (Andy Rooney has just retired leaving one vacancy for roughly 2 Billion people who recently joined the rank of the Middle Class).

Instead of “Hell No, We won’t go”, they are now yelling “Hell No, PLace To Go”.

India? China? Brazil?

To land a job in  BRIC‘s countries, one needs a crash course in language and culture.

(I resent the author of a recent Economist’s article, ridiculing “poor English” in Vietnam. Cheap shot at best, and colonialistic at worst.

http://www.economist.com/blogs/johnson/2011/09/english-vietnam?fsrc=scn/tw/te/bl/iamenglishteach

Go ahead and try to learn Mandarin).

Employers look for those with soft-skills that couldn’t be outsourced such as critical thinking, communicative and collaborative skill set across the cultures, but also to pay them at blue collar wages (high skill/low cost) since employers themselves are caught in a competitive race to the bottom due to outsourcing, offshoring and now re-shoring. Damn if you do, damn if you don’t.

Currently a jobs bill which runs at $200,000 per job is on the table.

Foreign students said “No thanks” (even when their HB1 visas were extended) and went home after graduation (BlueSeed is trying to dock a ship out in Seattle Waters to go around this rule).

At first, I thought it was because of the wives (who couldn’t find spices in groceries stores) who pressured their expat husbands to return (let’s stay to India and Singapore) – Japanese executives wouldn’t choose to work here in the US for fear of derailing their career tracks – But, I found it’s more of a pull than push force that they chose not to stay around (follow the money i.e. emerging domestic markets).

In “It used to be us”, the author of “The World is Flat” himself is baffled by his own themes (globalization and IT revolution).

Now, even call centers got automated (outsourcing next level, to automation), so high-value representatives can proactively chat with callers.

We are all caught off- guard: a job loss here, a dead-end career there.

Before we know it, we blame it on Wall Street (partly true, but not the whole picture – the same way India’s service industries and China’s manufacturing industries got the blame for our Lost Decade, or the Japanese lean -semiconductor- manufacturing in the 80’s or the Vietnam War for taking the Johnson’s administration’s eyes of the-Great Society).

But the story is more complicated than that. The solution seems to be multi-pronged because the problem is multi-faced.

Jack Ellul already touched on the idolization of “technique” back in the 60’s. Now, techno-fundamentalism is pervasive in every faced of life (what could be digitized, must be digitized – Larry Page was quoted to say : “let’s have a million engineers” to outrank or outPagerank Microsoft’s 25,000 strong army), forcing “human” to reflect and re-think about what it is that makes them marketable (the human touch, emotional intelligence etc….) in the 21st century.

No wonder we feel short-changed (too many of us chasing too few opportunities at the bottom – even high-paying construction jobs are no longer there on this side of the housing bubble). At the top, one will take a CEO job, like at HP, but for only $1.00.

It reminds me of Newsweek which was acquired also for $1.00).

This Halloween we will be in default costumes, that of homeless men and jobless women (carrying huge luggage, or brief case).

It’s time to revisit Native Americans on the occasion of Columbus Day (to press restart).

It’s time to reinvent  the American Dream. We don’t have to look too far, since the cause and the cure for today’s malaise and misery are right there, in the mirror.

I hope they keep the mirror squeaky-clean there at the McDonald on Wall Street for our protestors’ comfort and convenience.

Noodle cultures

Imagine you can slurp a spicy, mouth-watering noodle bowl on a rainy night.

Even when it is instant, thanks to the King of Noodles (they even have a noodle museum in Yokohama).

Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Thailand and Vietnamese; all love this staple.

http://www.bangkokpost.com/business/marketing/259168/tf-eyes-vietnam-for-noodles

Take the Korean and Vietnamese samples.

Both are known for North and South.

Both seem to have become what they fought against (Korean industrial might resembles Japan’s rising sun in the 80’s, while post-war Vietnam is defining its multi-polar identity i.e. Chinese, Franco-Russian, or APEC).

These emerging blocks interact and influence one another: young Vietnamese love Korean soaps and stars (Rain), while the Korean invest heavily in Vietnam’s young workforce (who might not endorse the 55-hr work ethic, due to the lingering French laissez-faire  35-hr work week, with coffee and cigarette breaks).

When these cultures export themselves, they stake out block by block, with the Korean districts in Wilshire District (LA) and Garden Grove (OC); similar pattern emerges as the Vietnamese found work in Silicon Valley or  Camp Pendleton near Little Saigon enclave.

Korean cinema, meanwhile, has drifted in the direction of its former enemy ( Japanese) by exploring the grotesque and domestic brutality ( the dark side of an industrial culture coming of age.)

The threat that ties all these disparage cultures (island-apart, literally) is the string noodle, originated in pre-Marco Polo China.

Even Samsung started out as a noodle company.

The Asian retail gal might be in suit, in compliance with industrial codes, but at lunch time, reverts back to her larger cultural codes (segregated, slurping and spicy).

Those culture groups now come face to face with modernity, under the disguise of free trade. Samsung or Sony? Toyota or Tata? Coke or Pepsi (wherever there is Pepsi, there is music, but not “the real thing”).

I used to work on the same team with my dear Korean colleague, and our markets were literally side-by-side (geographically, but culturally apart, just like Tijuana and San Diego).

Companies which try to expand to Asian markets need to understand these deep divides, the same as found in Europe or Latin America.

At least, shrewd observers can count on a set of common denominators i.e. food, fun and festivities.

Cultures are moving targets. But underneath, there are forces at work . The average person on the street just know they have changed, slowly, to becoming what their parents and grandparents had once detested (leaving the local village for a global one).

The collective self is giving way to the individual self (see Last Train Home, where inter-generational conflict was played out on their annual journey back to the village).

Consequently, you can take any of the above folks out of the noodle shop, but you can’t take the noodle away from them. Not on a cold day, or rainy day.

That’s what triggered the invention of instant ramen. Our noodle King saw a need (why all these people have to stand in the rain, waiting their turn to order noodle). That solution has been the key to unlock a kingdom, where modernity (speed, efficiency and technology – food processing) was married to tradition (childhood memory, communal activity and uncompromising taste). It’s all in the spices. At least, it was one of the triggers for Columbus to set sail and discover a rounded Earth. The end of all journeys it seems, is to come home and learn to know the place for the first time. That place, for a lot of people, has noodle waiting albeit in instant packages.

Cafe sua da

Lately, articles about “banh mi” started to appear in the Bay area publications.

What should have accompanied those articles was Cafe sua da (Iced cafe-au-lait).

The coffee chamber sat on the cup. Hot water drips down, one drip at a time, on top of condensed milk.

Bitter and sweet, hot and cold.

It’s a night-and-day difference from coffee found sitting all burned up at a 7-11 near you.

Because of the long wait, friends start chatting.

So and so just got another divorce.

So and so is still alive.

The Brits got their tea from India. The French got their coffee from its former colonies, among them Vietnam.

Gotta have that coffee. You can hold the OJ.

“Cafe sua da” is found at practically every corner of Vietnam.

I found it in Dalat, at 4 AM, Hanoi at 1PM.

In Orange County, you can have it served by half-naked coctail waitresses.

Everything social seems to revolve around Cafe Sua Da.

Between the Banh Mi, Pho and Cafe Sua Da, you pretty much complete your hunt for Vietnamese export cuisine.

And the interesting thing about all three: you can order them at all hours in the day and anywhere from Bellaire (TX) to Bolsa (CA), from New Orleans to New York.

When cultures collide, there are gives and takes. In this case, Vietnamese contributions abroad have been mostly in manicuring,  cuisine ( as mentioned) and fashion (ao dai).

Last week, in the suburb of Washington  D.C, police moved in to make arrests at some coffee houses (charges false or true remain to be sorted out).

But one thing for sure, the crooked and straight both want their Cafe sua da.

I stopped by there once, jet-lagged and all, to find out I was their first customer. Traditionally, the first customer is supposed to usher in either luck or curse of the day (during Tet, it’s for the entire year).

So, to avoid this superstitious entrapment, I ordered my cup to go.

It did not come out right, because Cafe Sua Da is meant to be shared with chatty friends.

It’s a culture of coffee that Howard Shultz of Starbucks found fascinating during his visit to Italy. In the Vietnamese American case, it offers a half-way home at a Starbucks price, without the pretense of having your name scribbled on the  cup to be belled out later as if you were a regular. The difference between Cafe Sua Da and Cafe Starbucks was more pronounced during this downturn: Starbucks lost customers to McCafe, while Cafe Sua Da still holds, one drip at a time.

Cafe Au Lait has survived , transformed and migrated from North to South Vietnam, and from Southern Vietnam to Southern California. It’s still coffee, but the way it is served, sitting on top of the cup, has been the beverage of choice for many of us to start the day. When the coffee is right, everything seems to go all right from there. Now you know my hang-up and why I can’t stand the burned coffee smell at 7-11 or McDonald. Perhaps because of the way it is served there or the speed at which they collect your money. Yet who am I to ask for more, when for years, on campus, I could make do with vending machines. Those machines, I heard, now serve instant noodles. They said when you were hungry, your brain picks unhealthy food. Hungry or not, between instant noodles-vended coffee and Banh-Mi-and-Cafe- Sua- Da , I pick the later every time.

Rough “road” to learning

 Please fasten your seat belts.

The road to learning is rough: one has to survive the transportation to and fro, bullies and academic pressures.

“it’s the same river, same ferry, and coconut trees along the banks, but, it’s different today. The difference is, …today, I am back to school” (paraphrasing a poem by Thanh Tinh)..

When their age, I got picked up by various adults in my household: father, brother, sitter and sister (my mom was a school teacher at another school, so she couldn’t have due to schedule conflict). They picked me up by VeloSolex and Mobylette. Twice my little foot got stuck in the back wheel (once I ended up in the emergency room).

Rough road to learning.

Seeing school children in An Giang getting ferried to school brought back some memories (last week, on PBS Newshour, on the subject of the Keystone pipeline,

one commentator even mentioned that current climate change was due to global increased energy consumption in countries like Vietnam and China etc… That prompted a rebuff from the environmentalist, who said “how much an average Vietnamese uses energy per day compared to the developed world”. We should chroma-key in above picture to make his point).

School could never equip us with survival instincts.

The best teachers can do is to create a sense of normalcy, habit-forming, and hopefully,

plant a desire for further learning.

Besides, they already got “tiger moms” at home who ensure conformity to village life.

Those are end-products based on century-old Mandarin system (to supply new blood to run the admin system).

Except now, we don’t face shortage of labor at all (fewer people are required to produce the same amount of agri and aqua products, fewer employees per factory/offfice square foot etc…No more “where is the white-out”.

Yet, children are risking their young lives to get to school across the river.

Quite a “distant” learning.

Could someone throw a safety jacket?

Here, people blog about  (wearing) “White after Labor Day“.

I just hope that one of those children will make it to the big city, and propel into the big league (statistical outcome of a large gene pool of 90 million). Perhaps through IT, or Math (one already won the most prestigious award).

One charity in the West was exposed for trying to build schools in Afghanistan while pocketing the rest.

He even wrote a book about it. PR man. Opportunist man. Spare a jacket?

I am sure these schoolchildren pick up on some survival skills during their one-hour commute (team work, social awareness etc..) before setting foot in the classroom.

And should one of them be drowned, (as already happened) I hope for the rest a quick move forward over survivor’s guilt.

Those scars take a long time to heal.

I know what I am writing about.

I still have the aching ankle ground by Mobylette to prove it.

It took place from a rough road back from school.

It’s the same road that I saw every day, but the difference was, that day, was the day I arrived home via the hospital. Rough “road” to learning, I tell you.

Choppers that chop the seas

The news of Premier Nguyen Cao Ky passed away brought back a long time passing.

In my youth, the sound of hovering helicopters was as common as street vendors’ chants.

On the war’s last day, ambassador, flag, ground-keepers, pilots and anything that moved, tried to get out to International Waters . Buses, barges and yes, choppers.

Lone pilots angled and abandoned choppers, then swam for aircraft carriers.

Their last sortie. (Years later, I met a man in New Orleans who found work as a commercial pilot for an oil company, transferable skill set I would say).

But on that fateful day, the choppers chopped the seas. One helicopter force-landed and hit our barge’s sandbagged wall. The loosed blades then flew wildly toward our ship, the USS Blue Ridge. I lied head down but eyes glued to the scene of action. That same barge had been our home for the previous 24 hours. Floating barge and flying blades was my brush with war and death.

Words circulated that many, VP Cao Ky included, went to Guam, where they had erected tents for refugees. For us, who ended up in Wake Island, we spent a purgatorial summer (“Do you know, where you’re going to” theme from the Mahogany). One of our folk singers sang for free to keep up our morale. She just came up short of singing “by the  river of Babylon…there we sat down and wept”.

I overheard “Band on The Run” by McCartney  from the barrack next door.

Not sure that was fitting or insulting. After all, I have spent the last three decades and a half trying to live down deserter’s guilt.

On a recent trip to Vietnam, a drunk at the table even screamed in my face that I was no longer a Vietnamese.

The burden must have been heavier for those who had invested more in the conflict (Cold War, but hot spots) e.g. the likes of Premier Cao Ky.

Occasionally, the two sides – reconciliators and extremists – were still at it.

We should put on the Holllies’ He Ain’t Heavy.

That’s how it will end. And how everything eventually ends, with time. My narrative just happened to be accompanied by the sound of choppers normally associated with Vietnam. One thing VP Cao Ky showed us and the world, was that, despite the hefty death toll and billions of dollars spent on bullets and agent Orange (later, he was resettled in Orange County), one still needs to live out one’s life, flamboyant or faced down. Army divisions used to distinguish themselves by various colors of their scarfs (red for paratroopers, green for Green Berets, so it’s not unusual for pilots and stewardess to pick their colors as well).

When you are near death on a daily basis, the least you can do for yourself is to look in the mirror, and say “not today”.

That today finally came for him, at age 80, and as fate would have it, resting in peace near South China Sea. But for many of us, “band on the run”, we live on to be memory keepers, story tellers and hopefully history-makers. It’s interesting to note that the younger generation tends to be more careful and conservative (model minorities) while their predecessors lived their lives in flying colors (go on YouTube, and click on any bands of the 60-70, like Chicago), least of which, a purple scarf, from a former Vietnamese pilot. Band on the run. Leader of the band dies today. The music, however, plays on. War and Peace. Dogmatism and pragmatism. Man and machine, romantic and robotic, pilot and chopper, laid to rest at Vietnam War epilogue. For me, not today. Not yet.

Someday, they will excavate in the South China Seas, and find hundreds of choppers, one of which without blades. Further excavation on the outer ring will find millions of skulls (boat people). They are all there, hidden underneath, but, still served as reminders of the long Cold War that took its heavy toll both in men and materials (choppers).

Attending my funeral

The paper announced “a A student committed suicide for not passing Vietnam‘s first IBM-graded SAT“. So, my classmates showed up at my house the next morning for condolences. True story. Not having seen the column the day before, I was completely taken aback.

Hence, my first exposure to bad journalism, and Vietnam’s first trial run with a machine (1974).

The Luddites must have been out for blood.

They wanted to “grade” our essays, in the old Mandarin style whose exams lasted three long days (camping out etc…) (Leu Chong).

We had been anxious leading to exam date e.g. shopping for the right No. 2 pencils, rehearsing multiple choices etc..

Our real first exposure to the “spiritual machine” with its lock-in platform.

In our little minds, machine was God. It could fail you (and in my case, it did). Turned out, they had to manually grade a few hundred of us in between batches.

I never forget the worrisome faces of loyal friends, who had passed but decided to hang out (our version of “funeral wake“).

I told them they should go out and celebrate. Forget about me.

But they insisted “one for all, all for one”.

Then those girls in the class who also showed up expecting to see me in oxygen mask, or in a casket.

The feeling was “out of the body” to say the least.

How often can you afford the opportunity to look at this scene from the outside? (astronauts get a rare glimpse of the Earth from space, but it’s a matter of geography).

That should put materialism in perspective.

A friend in need is a friend indeed.

The story did not end there without a happy ending.

We were sitting around, long faced, when a friend (drummer from the band), rushed in to announce that they had just posted an addendum to the results. So we raced to the school (on scooters, like the new Zappos ads).

And we found my name (as if it were the Vietnam Memorial, except this one was framed in glass).

And we opened the beer (my father paid for it).

And we jammed the guitar.

And we screamed (no karaoke back then, just yet).

Then we went out dancing.

The dead came back from the brink.

The A+ student got his dog day.

And got admitted to Pre-med (I would have entered the tweet contest for U of Iowa MBA scholarship if there had been such a thing).

With confidence and momentum, I helped raise fund for the refugees floating into our city (public speaking in front of a large lecture hall etc..). After all, I could have stood outside of its walls, cursing  the machine? the manufacturer? the IT administrator?

No college, no draft deferment i.e. enlisted and got maimed ( a friend came back from the front with one eye left in him).

For that one day, I had a preview of my funeral. In Amadeus, Mozart used this powerful visualization to finish his Requiem.

In my end, my beginning.

Unless the seed dies, it won’t produce much fruit.

Lose yourself, that you may find it.

This not a suicidal instinct. Just an acknowledgment that the seed of creative destruction was planted in each of us since day one.

Like a tracker, lo-jack.

We will need to be “disassembled” to be “re-assembled” on the other end.

Pride and prejudice, fear and loathing, all nano bots in the wind (Kansas).

Ask any leader about his lessons in success, he will mention failings.

They went together, like two sides of a coin.

That shock has served me well. South Vietnam collapsed that Spring.

And my summer celebration was the last of “Happy Days” with my friends (drummer, dancer, bass player etc….) many of whom I have lost touch (and I don’t believe they are on Facebook).

I just know that friendship is to be cherished, and that true friends forget  their own celebration waiting out for you. Victory for one is victory for all. That’s why, on Spaceship Earth, we need to be concerned about one man whose vegetable cart was taken away unjustly

(not to mention he got slapped by a female inspector in a Muslim society).

To him, death by immolation was better than death by humiliation.

And one man’s death sowed the seed of discontent that sprung up to become what we now coined the Arab Spring. To him, immolation equals cremation.

The Columbo close

Many of us in Sales would remember and practice the Columbo close “Before I go, just one more thing….” (then we would go ahead with a Summary close, with one foot still in the prospect’s door).

With two years, and 555 blogs, I thought I was done with it. But then, just one more thing…..

Peter Falk knew about personal branding long before there was Facebook and LinkedIn.

He figured, to make it in an image-driven world, (w/ right eye removed at an early age) he would have to:

A. work harder (in this case, asking  one more question)

B. work  Last Impressions while others focused on First Impressions (beat-up raincoat, Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall).

C. work from his strengths e.g.  M.A. in Efficiency, government job experience  – both used his analytic skills to “lock-in” his signature role as Ltd Columbo (much like Alda in M*A*S*H).

In that vein, I want to continue the ride, “still against the wind.”

When I tried out for Vietnam‘s prestigious high-school, I failed, because of all things, my Vietnamese language (I finished French Elementary, not Vietnamese). But  I did get in the year after.

Then I tried out for the high-school band. Luckily, I nailed the audition: they were playing California Dreaming, Don’t Let Me Down etc… right up my “foreign-language” alley.

Even today, tourists in Asia can still find bands that play 70’s music, even when band members couldn’t converse well in English. They just listened and repeated after the tape.

Then, I got thrown out of a long line in front of the US Embassy (a week before the last day of the War). They were worried that a long line would give away the impending doom.

But I am here now, and even got back to Vietnam, walked in that same embassy to have my M.A. degree notarize (after local, State and DOS steps). It was requirement for work permit.

Oh, just one more thing.

The professor of Journalism 101 said I would never make it (with manual typewriter? grammar? or make it in Liberal Arts?) So I packed my bag, and went to Hanoi at the beginning of the Great Recession, and passed the Cambridge English Teaching Award exam.

Just one more thing. I have worked at Fortune 500 companies for 15 years, driving beat-up cars (but won 2 brand new ones to pay off my student loan) albeit without the raincoat, and pulling a Columbo every so often.

How is that for someone who couldn’t pass Jr high entrance exam in Vietnamese.

On second thought, maybe I can inspire those who have always got nice cars, nice houses, speak fluent and perfect English with library full of books hardly touched.

Now, they just want to rob the bank, not to get away with money, but to be put in jail for medical coverage.

Please don’t. Just work on your strengths. Peter Falk (and for that matter, Danny DeVito) rise to fame not on their eye or height. They differentiated, focused on core strengths, and charm the audience not without empathy and a sense of humor.

Maybe my strengths lie in the fact that I don’t give up or  forget easily.

Most of my failures have been put to use, as stepping stones.

In short, my  next company and job will benefit greatly because my former employers and I have paid a high price for my ” professional profile”  It’s up to me to never repeat the same mistake twice. And that, I don’t forget easily.  Before you dismiss me with a HR’s cold “Next”, let me recap by saying,  “just one more thing”: was it my leadership talent? or my persistence? or my ability to work well with others – that you fail to register? Like in any closing situation, I “SHUT UP”. Wish I had that trench coat on.

Imagine, again

By now, we all have seen the picture of Congresswoman Giffords, in glasses, recovering from a near fatal shooting. Let’s rewind to 1980, and imagine John Lennon with that same  “luck”.

I can only see Lennon as the nemesis during the 80’s, if not again during the Iraq war.

We would have been stronger, not weaker, in the presence of harsh critics.

It would be a test, to see if the draft (Vietnam) itself was the main driver behind war opposition.

On the arts side, we would probably have seen Lennon in various designer’s sunglasses. Perhaps Paul and John would have played together at the marquee of the Ed Sullivan theater in New York City.

Thirty years is a lot of time for an artist to stretch his imagination, expand his vision and mature in his expressions.

If the US hadn’t been innovative enough, it would never be even with government mandate.

Creativity came from within. Intrinsic,  not forced or legislated.

I propose this time, not “American in Paris” as in the last century, but “American in the Orient”. Come to learn, not to loot. Columbus set a bad example and precedence (among the unintended consequences is tribal casinos, a legalized form of taking back what’s been taken). As of this edit, the Chairman of Blackstone did just that: offering scholarships for American to come to China and learn about China.

We watched in amazement as the head of an investment fund in Vietnam gave an interview on BBC, answering in Vietnamese, his second language.

http://bbc.in/kpiHH7

His obvious competitive advantage.

Britain might or might not have planned it, but the Beatles and subsequent ” British invasion” , have accomplished much more than all the germs, guns and steel. Soft power in the age of declining monarchy.

Artists and musicians connect at the emotive level. Memoirs and white papers are for PR folks. We got our Gaga on the ” edge” since she was “born that way”, or Madonna who had admitted long before Paris Hilton appeared on the social scenes that she was “a material girl”.

But then, I couldn’t have come up with a better plot than reality itself.

By shooting John Lennon, Mark Chapman forever became a publicity parasite, dangling on the looming shadow of a great artist and icon of all time .

I don’t know where John Lennon is today (we will all find out by default), but I do know every time I hear those piano notes from Imagine, it brought me back to that scene, with me waiting, under a tree, with my heart beating fast (puppy love).  Every generation has to come to terms with its own illusion and delusion. Mine happened to be eclipsed by war. One thing I know, time went faster when you lived in the extremes. Yet even then, we took time, to dream, to love, to hope and to imagine.

And John Lennon, shot down, but not out, helped us along.

I cannot imagine a scenario for Imagine 2.0, because one cannot mix oil and water, analog and digital. Genius and talent came once in a life time to grace us with their combination of the 7 notes. Can’t legislate that. Being outside of the box, we don’t have to be told  to “think out of the box”. What one sees depends on where one stands.

East-West shopping

Retailers in Europe figured out a way to push merchandise in this time of austerity: shop in your underwear, leave fully clothed.

Meanwhile, a reporter from the BBC went to Hanoi to learn about another way of shopping: buying paper clothing for the dead (old Hanoi, pho “hang ma”).

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p00h35lv

That’s how different East and West is. The only way to deal with trade imbalance is for Western countries to export designer “paper clothes” to China and Vietnam, so people can trade up in matters of ancestral worship.

(given that most textile imports to EU and US have been from these countries). When it comes time for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I miss my deceased parents, and the opportunity to buy them a Fathers Day, Mothers Day card.

If in Vietnam, I would be given another shopping opportunity for them: gold leaves and US dollars, all in paper, to be burned at their graves.

At the very least, I can burn an incense .

Filial duty. One of the highest virtues.

Another one is to gift your teachers on New Year.

Now with online education and home schooling, there is less human interaction . Some virtual math tutors are connected from India, the same way we reach call centers  for tech support.

It’s the best of times (to be learners) and the worst of times (to be teachers).

Characters and learning (now defined as information soaking) are decoupled.

Hence, the Confucian way of modeling characters (Tien hoc Le, Hau hoc Van i.e. first learn characters, then literature) to mold and make mandarins is phasing out.

A bunch of us know full well that those coffee servers (who wear skimpy outfits) in Vietnamese enclaves earn multiple times their customers’ income.

When in Rome, dress like a Roman.

Maybe this Black Friday, Wal-Mart can avert its earning decline by posting a sign that says “come as you were born, and leave fully clothed”. Its puritanical root in Benton, AK probably prohibits this. But those European stores already did , with much fanfare and press coverage. All these campaigns put VIrgin‘s Branson (whose airline launch was the talk of the town) in the back seat. Each generation must come up with a creative-destruction. Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake the proverbial survival tree (societies who hunt in pack figured out different ways to eliminate the unfits).

Hang in there ole friends. Live young and together in the West, die old and alone in the East (where Father’s Day and Mother’s Day extend well beyond the grave). That’s the only way to end the story. Alone again (naturally).