Tag: Vietnam

Number is up!

Mr Tarr, head of the Vietnam draft lottery, has died at age of 88 in Walnut Creek, CA.

A Nixon appointee, he headed Selective Service in 1970. He heard a lot of “Hell No, We Won’t Go”.

And now, his number is up.

I wonder how those who survive him, still lingering in the Canadian woods, think.

(Read “the things they carry”, the chapter about Tim O’ Brien got near the shore, and turned around to face the draft).

It’s been 50 years since that fateful 1963 year. It marked the assassination of practically everybody, from Kennedy to Diem, from Thich Quang Duc self-immolation to the exile of Madam Nhu.

Back then, my big brother got drafted too, out of pharmacy school. His baby died after having lived for a few days in the battle zone of Qui Nhon. So my mom and I flew up to be with them. Not a Bob Hope and Susie Q type of landing at the front. But at night, the two sides were at it (bullets flying everywhere).

My first taste of a real hot war.

Meanwhile, a little girl, our own flesh and blood, was buried somewhere out there, unvisited and untraceable.

Her number was up.

Saw Gatsby this week.

The writer’s comment “of all of New York, the multitude who crashed Gatsby’s great party, not a single soul showed up for his funeral”.

Thought you would like me to quote that as it relates to “Number is up” type of blog.

This morning, over coffee, a friend joked that he would like to have his ashes scattered. I said I would do it, if he stated it in his will (who wants to fight with his families as to his future whereabouts).

I know one thing: my niece is out there somewhere in Qui Nhon. Among many whose numbers were also up.

Selective service or not. I still held that draft deferred card. It says ” Draft deferred. Reason, sole male in a family whose  other son(s) was already active in duty”. Like it or not, my pharmacist brother number was up during that time.

Mine wasn’t. And we were interlinked, by DNA and draft numbering system. I attended my niece’s funeral. I hope to be there when it’s her father’s turn to join her. My brother deserves more than what Gatsby gets at the end of life.

Make your end, a standing-room only type of funeral. I will request to have “Whiter Shade of Gray” play at mine.

RIP Mr Tarr.

We can handle the truth

We here are people who fled Vietnam in various waves (pre-1975, 1975, and post-1975) and have settled in Little Saigon, Orange County, CA.

I have seen the strip transformed, from a few stores to be what it is today: patch work of mini plazas interlacing with mobile home parks, often times, reflections of the boom and bust times.

First was a State Farm rep office, with a pharmacy. Then a Mall. Then all that followed e.g. foot massage parlors (Chinese money) condo complex and French bakeries. Businesses traditionally catered to mainstream tastes e.g. 7/11, Burger King, Ralphs supermarkets were all closed. In their places are Pho (at a discount, like cigarettes), iced coffee, tea (Tastea) and trade-up Vietnamese restaurants.

It was conceived to be a hub for second migration (the first was engineered by the US Government, to prevent Little Havana type of cluster).

Little do we know (the same blind spot that the US Army underestimated the strength of the collective enemy), climate and community acted as push and pull forces for second migration.

We still can’t handle the truth (that policy makers don’t see beyond the immediate).

Now market forces are taking over after the housing boom and burst. High-margin businesses survive side by side with some flavors of urban America: the Vietnamese homeless (stateless to begin with).

On the other hand, we got talk show hosts, weekly pundits and Vietnamese Film Festival featuring up to 69 entries.

We can handle the truth. (I attended a showing last night at UC Irvine. The producer personifies self-reinvention: Silicon Valley engineer, Loan Officer, and now ethnic film producer that might eventually go main stream).

There is a torch-passing process although one cannot see the definite hand-off. The legacy and language, the tug of war between the generations and the acculturation rate (new comers would use Little Saigon as jump point, the same way ChinaTown has served this role for centuries).

Money doesn’t flow one way. It has started to flow the other way (up to 3.5 million Vietnamese tourists from Vietnam are now allowed to travel Westward, a one-to-one match up (and catching up) with those who have resettled.

More monks, more students and concerned parents visiting US campuses, more business and marriage brokerage eager to close deals.

By the end of this month, those who first came in their 30’s will have reached their 70’s. I walked by the Senior citizen center, once bustling with activities e.g. chess match, English classes, Tai chi. Now, the membership are dwindling, funds dried out.

We can still handle the truth.

If I were community planner, I would pay attention to the unmet needs of the touchscreen generation. How do we yank them away from the I-pad screens? What lesson in Vietnamese language and culture would attract them, and what value could we offer?

Meanwhile, tourism to America has reached its low point. Can Little Saigon be a small magnet on the way to Las Vegas and Disney Land.

What other business proposition we can offer to attract reverse money flow? How do we keep those brain power who are now educated on tourist/student visa? I guess it all boils down to quality of life. California has been hard at work to push for air quality.

Now the same zeal is needed to support and upgrade its ethnic base. After all, it’s the end of the West before Hawaii. And it needs to live up to that reputation, once known as California Dreaming. I am sure the Vietnamese homeless guys are doing just that in front of the Food To Go.

We can handle the truth., Mr Stockman.

http://thechairmansblog.gallup.com/2013/04/americans-cant-handle-truth.html

New Context New Narrative

When Starbucks opened its first store in Saigon, it must have been a big blast.

Centrally located, visibly in-your-face, upscale e.g. wifi and air-conditioned.

Early stage.

When I had my cup of Starbucks, like this morning, in a Virginian Mall, there was no fanfare, no fuss.

Late stage.

Same store and story (pour your heart into it) but in different contexts.

Geographical expansion, and brand extension (more international e.g. Starbucks on the Allure).

With each new day, we add-on to our narratives new twists and turns with challenges in between.

The story of Starbucks as a brand, or the stories of our lives as biographical history, both evolve and encompass elements outside of our control.

Good to great stories require comparable-in-size conflicts.

But for many of us, ambition and adventure are better lived out by actors on the screen than us on the street.

Still, experiencing the tranquility of an enclosed Mall vs the bustling round-about near Ben Thanh Market, I felt out of context.

My body is here, overcoming jet lag. But my mind still replay the sound and sight of Vietnam (where people obviously don’t need a coat or jacket).

I know the iced latte is more popular there, while in Virginia, in the winter, it’s the opposite.

And the tip? That remains to be seen.

To top it all, my sister ran into an old American GI who had been in Da Nang and Hue 44 years ago.

He couldn’t stop talking about his experience back in Nam.

Had he stayed on and waited long enough there, he wouldn’t have to come back across the world, in new context, for that cup of coffee.

I am sure when he first returned 44 years ago, he would have felt the same. The body is here, adjusting. But the mind is else where.  That’s how we are: facing similar set of challenges from the outside, but the interior reservoir and responses are different. It makes us different and unique. It is that pause, however long, between stimulus and response, that defines who we are e.g. Walmart door opens on Black Friday (stimulus), people push and jump for stampede (response).

Same Starbucks, two different localities. East vs West. “And now, the end is near, final curtain…. ” In our own way, each of us is a Star in this Starbucks universe. They can recreate the franchise anywhere, but there is only one you, in or out of context but only one narrative. Own it. Celebrate it and don’t forget to share it. Your personal brand is un-franchisable. It rocks!

Fools ignore facts

In all my stops in London, Zurich, Cote D’Ivoire, Monrovia, Ghana, Hong Kong, Manila, Mexico, Montreal, I formed good impressions of each locality and people. When I came back to Vietnam in 2000 and on subsequent trips, I did the same even in the worst of scenes e.g. how could that guy without legs drag himself on the street selling lottery tickets!

But this kind of lens Joel Brinkley did not wear on his trip to Vietnam last month (I was still there then). He came back, and wrote that Vietnamese ate anything that moved “birds and domesticated animals are rarities on city streets” and that he saw one lady in Da Nang sell field rats..” this rich in protein diet drove the Vietnamese to attack peaceful neighbors e.g. Cambodian whose diet had less meat.”

Now he made me paranoid! With the same observation, his steady Big-Mac diet could turn out to be a threat to his journalist students at Standford (who could be 100 per cent sure what’s in the “rich in protein” fast foods).

Our Canadian neighbors to the North love eating quails. French, horsemeat. Even in IKEA products.

Regionally, people responded to scarcity and starvation differently. If he had read Guns, Germs and Steel, he would have known that it’s the lack of anti-bodies (against invaders’ germs) in the native population that killed them more than all the aggressors’ guns put together.

I know what Vietnamese drinkers do and look for. They call it “moi”. It could be appetizers such as roasted peanuts or fried tofu, from escargo (French) to eel (Korean). Vietnam explores and incorporates many strands of culture and cuisine (recent article showed wider adoption of wine, but still not the cheese – due to lactose intolerance).

On the day Joel Brinkley published his opinion piece on the Tribune Media site, by a stroke of luck, the editorial oversight was asleep at the wheel. I was saying goodbye to a friend over a beer (E European) and fish. Luckily, the joint did not serve dog food, or else I wouldn’t be writing this piece of cultural defense in good conscience.

I helped circulate Mr Brinkley’s piece to a network of friends, but did not sign the petition as many did (petition for his removal from post). It said he should have practiced what he preached i.e. fack checking before forming an opinion, observe before conclude, and learn the difference between cause and correlation.

People in Korea, China, Vietnam country side did eat field rats in hard times. Perhaps they want to go back in times (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) bonding over beers (therapeutic more than ritualistic). I once shared a meal with Filipinos over the weekend. We ate without utensils, the native way. It’s their “letting the hair down” time, away from the monotonous rhythm of the Western style cafeteria. And I was glad to be included. Felt like Margaret-Mead then.

I would not fall into a trap to argue that, yes, I saw rats and heard birds in the city while I was there. It would not be cool if I am pressed about where (in the alley, because I took a short cut to shield myself from the scorching sun).

But for someone who wrote a scholarly piece on Cambodia, then to make a 10-day stop in Vietnam, all the while living in a group-think bubble (expat cocoon riddled with colonial jargons) just to write-up a piece that stirred up controversy and resentment, was uncalled for. I remember my Communication professors at Penn State. They earned their stripes and their respects. Joel has to earn the prizes he had already received. In the beginning, was the Word. Noble and enabling word, that builds up not tears down. He probably is tasting a spoon full of his own medicine these days, and wishing he did not make those comments. Teachable moments for both prof and students. Just as we thought we could put Vietnam to rest. BTW, a friend in Ghana who took me to his home offered me foods full of tomatoes and hot chillies. And their dark skin was quite shiny and healthy. I don’t think Ghanaian attack any of their neighbors either. Most wars I read about involved McDonald eaters. Or hit and run  Or drive-by shooting. Want me to open the box? P.S. In Talk Vietnam, there is a parody in which the author took a tour in the US and couldn’t find any livestock here either. All eaten!

The ME who could’ve been

It’s Chinese New Year morning. Except there weren’t a lot of Vietnamese around.

They were here yesterday, and last week. But apparently, on this cold Sunday morning,

gym wasn’t their priority. Attention is devoted to festivals and festivities at the Temples, in the park and at the fair.

Like in-country counterparts, they would put on new clothes and carry li-xi envelopes ready to be dispensed, like an eager college freshman with stacks of condom supplies.

Here in Orange County, the festivities have only just begun. Bands were busy rehearsing, and bottles pre-ordered (up scale wine and dine).

I thought to myself, what a wonderful world.

Had I stayed my entire time in Vietnam, what the Me would have turned out?

– I wouldn’t show up at the gym on the first day of Tet either (none would be opened) and

would still fight the hang over from the New Year Eve’s celebration.

– I would drink strong cafe sua da (iced latte), perhaps from the only Starbucks in town.

– Sometimes people go the movies during Tet (since there aren’t a lot of entertainment venues that could accommodate an entire extended family). This year, Die Hard is opened on New Year’s Day in Vietnam.

Ten days before, they showed “My Nhan Ke” (femme fatale), complete with sword fighting and Crouching -Tiger Matrix-like effects.

– I would stay home early in the morning, for fear of being the first visitor to friends’ houses. Who would want to be blamed for the bad outcome of their entire year!.

Banh Chung (green-bean cakes) and pickled onion would be my brunch, since restaurant workers also stay home to celebrate their own Tet.

Then comes the dreaded part: the unwanted relatives.

They would want to reorder my life’s priorities by matchmaking attempts.

I would burn incenses for my deceased parents, offering fruits and flowers along with Banh Chung and confitures.

Tet in Vietnam or in the US is the same.

But the man I used to be (the Me in relation to others e.g. uncle, brother-in-law, etc…) has changed.

I work out, I read, I blog and frankly, I have become atomized and adapting to both virtual and western world.

My motto is to observe, filter and retain only necessary data (handling spam mail) for survival.

I want to connect the dots or else others would do it for me.

Instead of being the mini-we in We, I have become the Me on my own, with legs to stand on.

It’s like the spirits of the Dust Bowl. Rebuilding after the gathering storm, all on one’s own.

We are evolving into new creatures of the Web, where Who We Are is influenced by what we view, like and whom we share it with.

It won’t happen overnight, but it is evolving. The same way our taste for music and fashion by osmosis once shaped by our next up of kin (or closest friends).

Or else, how would we explain an entire generation falling in love with American Pie, Vincent, Say You Say me.

My friend mentioned Lionel Richie‘s line “easy as Sunday Morning”.

So it’s Sunday Morning. The Vietnamese who would otherwise show up at the gym, have taken it easy “like Sunday Morning”.

It’s new year. It’s a celebration. Time for feasting and eating. To broker marriages and business relations.

Even to forgive trespasses both from the religious (Sunday)  and cultural (Tet) stand point. Let us not fall into temptation. I am sure after these three days, (with gambling and drinking involved) many would find above prayer more meaningful if not personable. The Me who could’ve been should have taken it easy like Sunday morning.

Instead, I end up going to the gym all these three days and only take small bites of the bean cake. It’s brand simple, but a winning entry for our national contest for the throne. Back when the general consensus was that the Earth was square. And that it’s not good for a man to be alone on this very day. He has to be a mini-we in the context of a larger batch that hatched into a tribe called Lac Viet, ancestors of today’s Vietnamese. No wonder those “Individualized” stairmasters remain unoccupied on this New Year’s morning: everybody is reclaiming what’s they once were.

Say “cheese”!

I touched on this slightly in another blog. It’s about growing up never knew if my grandparents even smiled at all (I gathered this from the black and white photos in the family album).

We are still shackled by the analog world which tells us to stand straight and stare straight into the lenses (36 poses max).

Yet cameras are now built in the smart phones. It’s digital. It’s universal almost.

So why not say “cheese”! Every moment is now an event… the outing, the posting caught on camera.

Picture-taking used to be a Christmas event to document how babies have grown. To make post cards and greeting cards.

With online convenience, we now send greetings digitally. It’s fitting that I pen these lines an hour before the coming year of the Snake.

My parents used to whip up some poems to welcome the New Year and refresh our spirits.

It’s a necessary reboot.

Everyone works hard there in the East (more manual labor than Industrialized West). The hot weather makes you sweat all day.

A/C is for the white-collar folks.

If you were to document in photos a day in the life of an average worker in Vietnam, you would find that he/she gets up very early and tries to beat traffic and everyone else.  He/she either goes for a run before sunrise or not at all.

Then strong coffee. Then chopping woods, so to speak . People either divide up a huge chunk of meat, or newspaper delivery folks a huge pile of papers, or lottery sellers got their tickets at predetermined gathering points.

When the sun glistens, open air markets are already in full swing: fish and fruits, eggs and noodle.

People have breakfast and people have fights.

All in a life of an average worker. Traffic smog and traffic accidents. Back to and from work. Then the night life. In full swing. Snacks on wheels at night market. Bangkok or Saigon. On the waterfront, or back in the alleys. Life at its rawest. Capture it on camera.

Let it go not. Why wait. Things won’t stay the same. In our life time, we saw this digital revolution. At least, future generations can deduce that their grandparents indeed say “Cheese” for the digital cameras. Back when I had my TV internship, that regional station was still hanging on to half film (with dark-room processing of news reels) and half tape. I am sure it has gone completely digital by now.

Loosen those tight grips of the analog shackle. We have yet seen the full implication of complete digitization. Who would still laminate a classic book, knowing that it’s available on Kindle. Yes, we have seen rising unemployment, which was a result of automation and digitization, which in turn, is causing underemployment for others. The 55-hour work week will soon be reduced to 35, to accommodate incoming workers.

Work less, enjoy life more. What else can we ask for standing on giants’ shoulders and inventions of the 21st century. Cheers!

Isolation, interaction and interpretation

One person to himself.

One or more chatting, arguing, agreeing.

Then, a multi-lingual gathering, with or without a headset, with a bilingual person in the middle, trying to transport the weight behind loaded words. In Chinese Zodiac, Jackie Chan tried to smooth out intercultural tension by giving an opposite translation from the intended message.

We also remember the scene from The Great Escape, where after each failed attempt, Steve McQueen, the King of cool, would be put back in isolation (at least fellow inmates still keep his glove and baseball for him).

When you send out a signal, a text or any form of communication without getting any feedback, you are in isolation. It could drive one into despair.

Marconi kept building taller towers near the seas, and sending out ship-to-shore signals in the hope that he could compensate for the curvy horizon.

In Cast Away, Tom Hanks couldn’t deliver his message in the box (fed ex), or the bottle.

Somewhere out there, there is someone waiting to receive your signals.

Blogging has started to fill this empty space.

A guy posted a picture of the Northeast, the gathering storm, or a nice trail.

I share his cold, and his wintry isolation.

Tet in Vietnam is warmer and with a lot more activities.

Tet in Orange County Little Saigon is wet and isolating.

And far away in Vietnamese communities such as Louisiana, Washington DC or Washington State, I suspect it’s even wetter and more isolating.

Yet people send out messages, through Mai branches (equivalence of Christmas pine trees) and red-lucky envelopes (equivalence of red stockings). It says “we are here, the new American with our tradition very much like the early Americans with theirs”.

So there are some interaction between the two cultures, East and West, the Lunar calendar vs the Solar.

Those who live and breathe between two worlds are lucky.

It is as though we barely cleaned up after one celebration before we start another. Once the cat is out of the bag, there is no end to it.

Now it’s no longer the turkey and carvings, it’s the Green bean cake and pickled onion.

The only shared sweet element between the old American native and the Vietnamese is sweet potatoes and boiled corn.

I start getting mouth-watered. So counting down to Tet 2013, 45 years since Tet 68.

The American public was more familiar with that shocking turn of event, and perhaps, decisive turning point of the war. You won’t find army flak jackets on the streets of Saigon as back then. You will find something very similar to the Rose Parade, except it’s stationary on blocked streets. And music is in the air, with ao dai floating and flirting . Take a picture, take a look. Be not isolated. Come out and interact, even if you need help from an interpreter.

Isolation, interaction and interpretation.

Go a bit more native

In 2000, after 25 years of being away, I made a short trip back to Vietnam.

What a culture shock (especially when I landed in Hanoi, where I had only heard about).

Twelve years. A dozen trips later. A little deeper into the alleys and byways.

I think I have touched on different parts of the proverbial Elephant.

Vietnam now has malls that are as sterile as the ones in the States (on weekdays).

The first Starbucks is having its soft-opening.

Raybans, I-phones and Vespas are as common as the remaining rice fields.

French colonial presence is confined in the centres with boulevards and sidewalks (just like in Cote d’Ivoire). But urban sprawl doesn’t stop there.

At the outskirts of Saigon, shops after shops compete for retail customers.

Fresh flowers are shipped in from the highland just in time for Tet celebration.

Coffee shops with Wi-fi serve up tea to go with coffee (East and West blended).

When you see a bunch of well-dressed Asian get off a bus, you know they are APEC tourists.

Or else, backpackers would try to hopelessly blend in with flip-flops and shorts. Lonely Planet. I read that guide on my first trip. Now, I rely on instincts and instructions from my taxi and scooter drivers.

Like any city, Saigon is divided into various social strata The upper crust lives behind iron-gates and tinted Mercedes.

Everyone else, crowded flats and scooters, wearing required helmets and optional surgical masks.

Fortune are made and lost here. One bubble after another. 1997 and 2008.

Not as severe as in Thailand. But the poor have always suffered, below the radar. They will probably continue this trajectory for a while, even with more foreign investments. With brands like Nike, Intel, Starbucks, KFC and Jabil , change is undeniably in your face.

Vietnam has grown out of the “war” box. It has evolved into an emerging market and “Happy” country (behind only Costa Rica). It is worth visiting and studying.

While people are increasingly materialistic, that alone is not what makes them  happy. Perhaps with the right mix, one can be content.

Let’s not forget, people do share the spoil, which makes them materialistic, but not yet individualistic.

To give is more blessed than to receive. But not for long since the mono-chronistic, individualistic and modernistic cultures are invading, and people start putting up fences and walls. Fences make good neighbors, as Frost put it.

But it also slices away those invisible connections people are born into for centuries, before the French, the American, the Russian and the APEC people arrived under the pre-text of global village. In truth, what do we know about life in a village? I certainly don’t. The US arm forces didn’t. Nobody did, except the people who had lived there, and now are living in the city. They too wouldn’t tell (I found “After Sorrow” by Lady Borton quite informing).  While I try to go a bit more native, they went the opposite (urbanized). Somewhere in between, we cross-path like two ships in the night. Oh, don’t forget to bring cash if you want to go a bit more native.

Retreat, retrench and return

40 years on since the last US combat boots pulled out of Vietnam.

Today, Starbucks lady returns, luring passer-by amidst the town square. Senator Kerry is getting his confirmation while a 40-year-old Vietnamese couldn’t tell an American from a Russian.

Vietnam is just a name, like Iraq will be 4 decades from now.

Vietnam today has Vespas (Italy), Mercedes (Germany), Honda (Japan), Kia (Korea), Haier (China) and La Vache qui Rit (France).

I enjoy reading translated literature from all over the world (sometimes direct translation without going through English).

40 years on.

The cyclos used to be common. Now they are relics of the past, confined to tourist districts only.  Machine is replacing muscles.

Then we buy gym memberships to exercise those sedentary muscles.

Talking about machine. News have been trickled in from BRIC nations: clubs from Russia and Brazil were burning (smoke machines for real, not just for special effects). The flip side of prosperity. Just like crime rates have been down  in NYC (people went online instead of walking the streets. 60% search inquiries were porn).

Home alone with hormones.

It’s easy to look at a poverty-stricken nation and make moral judgment (while a convict in developed nations would wear suits-and-tie sitting on the defense side of the bench, trying to deceive the jury just as he had done with thousands before).

40 years of regress and progress (Watergate to Bill Gates).

Good-hearted folks can’t help but see poor ROI the US have spent on arms.

Russia at least refused to play Russian roulette, so instead of pushing ICBM‘s, its leader went private, pushing Pizza (Hut).

We are evolving into a post-hardware era: software and soft power.

Those with thought leadership and social influence rule. And not for long.

Think not of the pyramid model. Instead, it is a kaleidoscope which keeps changing (the good side of this is if we can reinvent ourselves, we can reappear multiple times, like associates in Cirque du Soleil).

I am glad to see Starbucks here. I heard it is also opened in Forbidden City.

If Friedman is right (two nations are least likely to be at war when both have a McDonald) then perhaps Vietnam and China can avert another conflict, over coffee. American quintessential Starbucks coffee.

Learning as motivator

From papyrus to paper, from microfiche to microphone, we use technology for knowledge transfer.

Learning is a great motivator. Once started it never stops (in my death-bed, I probably still ask the attending nurse what all those charts mean, and why not this and that).

Don’t believe in learning curve (as if once you got over it, you own it. There will always be pace learning i.e. know, forget, know again as if for the first time).

Politicians on their first term barely learn how to get back from the underground of the Capitol or stay out of SE part of town (I heard it is now quite gentrified).

Coursera has been a great success. It harnesses technology to extend learning to the mass. Technology as slaves, not masters.

Lift them up, not put them down. I enjoy reading about the Indian IT and call center folks enjoy their night out at a disco, Chinese tourists flocking the streets of Paris or Vietnamese students coming to CAL State. Let them come. With traveling comes learning. With learning people are more open-minded.

Here in Vietnam, cable TV shows Hollywood car chase, guns blazing etc… With exposure  comes the exercise of choices.

Tolstoy doesn’t believe in true freedom of choice (free will vs predestination).

Still, the urge to learn, to discover, to connect and to advance one’s self is innate

The only difference between acquiring information online vs at Ivy League institutions is the socialization of knowledge. Upper-class kids would meet and marry (imperial alliance model) one another, hence perpetuating the ruling class.

But in those far-away lands (Timbuktu), with internet, who can stop a genius from acquiring information about protons, neutrons and electrons. Physics is physics. International grad students might stick out like a sore thumb given their speech and dress code (formal).

I saw kids in the Mekong Delta riding bikes, then crossing a river on ferry to get to school. And that’s on a sunny day. When it rains, I don’t see how they can get to school in dry uniforms (one heart-broken story last year. A boat full of students sunk and students never made it to school).

Learning as motivator.

Then, shoes and broadband. Thomas Friedman, author of the World is Flat, had similar ideas in the NYT today.

Learning as motivator.

The things they carry. Turn those swords into plowshares.

Angel of Death into Angel of Learning, Agent Orange into Agent of Change.

Broadband for rural, broadband against ruin.

Nobody can stop a man from learning. Not even in the confine of a prison.

Senator McCain was detained for a while in Hanoi Hilton. He now sits on Senate committees. Tell me he did not learn a thing or two while being detained.

Learning takes many forms and takes place when least  expected (even from the bottom).

To learn one must first be humble and teachable. One must be motivated even on a ferry-boat or one’s death-bed.