Well I managed to skip a dance opportunity, which is something of a rarity, as I tend to push myself in that direction, even when I'm tired. It's as if I only have so many hours left in my life to dance, so let's not be wasting any of them. But I got mucho exercise today, a jazz class in the morning, a long hike in the afternoon, as well as an hour of work in between, so, yeah, I can pass on the Tuesday evening ecstatic dance group tonight. Oh yeah, I rode my bike to and from the dance class too, so yeah, that's enough for one day. Yesterday was pretty active also with several hours of disc golf in the morning, and a one hour zumba class in the early evening. So I'm definitely not neglecting the opportunity to get sweaty.
And it was during yesterday's golf outing that I got chapter two of Sy's story. He's the Laotian man who I wrote about a few weeks ago, the one who was in the room when Kissinger was trying to broker peace agreements during the Vietnam war. I had a few questions and we ended up playing together so I had the chance to ask them. And when the story unfolded, it was totally amazing, even though it took the form of some kind of joke. You know, the kind that has three parts, and each part is more outrageous than what preceded it. Here's what I learned.
Sy was a great student, and as a result, received scholarships to study law, first in Paris, then in London. These scholarships were part of USAID, awarded to the top students in different fields, and according to Sy, they had nothing to do with him being groomed for some future work with the US government. That was more coincidental, but let's not get ahead of the story.
After his work in London, he was sent to Australia to practice law, which he did for some period of time (I don't have the specifics). When he returned to Laos, a well-educated, experienced lawyer, he was given a wonderful (so he thought) commission to be part of the government in one of the provinces in north eastern Laos. Turns out there was a little problem, namely that the area was under Communist control, and the reason he was given the assignment was because none of the other diplomats wanted anything to do with it. It was a no-win situation, and once Sy realized that, he quit and returned to the capital.
Job number two was worse, if that's possible. There was a powerful, and very corrupt general from the army who had been arrested and was going to be tried for murder, corruption, intimidation, you name it. Sy was given the job of being the lead prosecutor on the case. This general was so powerful that the King himself couldn't get rid of him. Nor could the prime minister. 'Here Sy, you do it'. He described a meeting in which some of the generals thugs were in a room with him and offered him the following suggestion. 'On this side of the table is a bullet, on the other side is ten million dollars. Which would you choose?' Their implication was quite clear, and once again, Sy quit the job. He returned to the prime minister who had another offer for him.
He was made ambassador to Russia so he flew to Moscow to begin the assignment. The only person he could talk to was his driver, another Laotian. Other than him, there was absolutely no one to communicate with. I would imagine that being a small, Laotian stranger in Soviet era Moscow would be an incredibly gray and boring existence, and indeed it was. There was nothing to do but sit in the office all day long watching the clock go round. Sy describes it as like being in prison, and after 3 months, he quit his third job and returned to Laos.
It was at that point that he was given a much more interesting position. He was one of the government peace negotiators, trying to hammer out a peaceful solution in SE Asia during the so-called 'secret war' in Laos. He describes being at the table with Kissinger on one side and the Chinese official Ling Xiao Peng on the other. To Kissinger's right were representatives of South Vietnam. Across from them were negotiators from the North. To Kissinger's left was Sy and another government negotiator. Across from them were representatives of the Laotian Communists. Wow, I can only imagine what it was like, and the next time I see Sy (perhaps tomorrow morning), I'll get more of the story.
But like I say, it reads like a joke. The first job was to be a government representative in Communist held territory. Then to be the prosecutor of a trial against a powerful and corrupt general who had had many people killed. Then go to Moscow and be a diplomat during the Soviet era. Fascinating... and true. More to come as I learn it.
What's more fun than that?
Wow! I had a couple of road gigs today, school assemblies in the town of Newberg, OR, about 2 hours north of here, and they were both 10s on the enjoyment scale. It made for a long day (which is only half over now, but there was something electric about getting back in the saddle and making it happen for school kids. I did kinda wonder if I still 'had it', if I could still rev them up, under control, and give them something worthwhile, so the fact that they were both great shows was even more pleasing.
The alarm got me up at 6:30, which gave me a half hour to shower, load the car and head north. I must have screwed up in copying the mapquest directions, because once I got to Newberg, things stopped making sense, but fortunately, I had left myself a few extra minutes for this type of eventuality. I parked in town, asked a woman who was walking with her morning coffee, told her I was lost, and did she know where the school was. I had the address, she had the Iphone, and voila, I was close, and there was no problem. (that interaction could have been an Iphone commercial... lost traveler saved by Iphone user)
The school itself was fairly new, sparkling with that first week of school energy, and I set up in the gym, as the kids sat quietly in their rows, waiting to be released to class. It was one of those ultra controlled environments which make me a little nervous. I hate it when kids are so tightly programmed to keep quiet, be still, sit with your legs folded etc. Seems unnatural and wrong, but who am I to say.
I got to do two shows, one for the younger kids, followed by one for the older, and they were both great. I totally had each group, start to finish, and there is something exhilarating about being in the center of that energy. Especially for the older group and they were so totally into it, dancing in their places on the floor, singing with gusto, laughing and enjoying themselves, but also focused and thoroughly appropriate. I did have a moment there when I was ecstatic in the midst of the music, almost a transcendent glimpse into heaven, or at least my version of heaven.
That happened during the final song, which I introduced in my usual way. 'I have time for one more song. Do you want a slow boring one or a rock and roll song?' Of course they yell 'rock and roll' and it's kind of cute. I got the teachers up there with me, playing percussion, and one of the guys grabbed the guiro and knew how to use it. That's a bonus. Note to self, make sure a latino dude grabs the guiro. It really makes things come alive.
So I had the kids singing and dancing on the floor, the teachers were into it, playing well and stopping when I said the number 4. (That's something I always do... make sure I have a 'kill switch' so I can get the group to silence and stillness in an instant. And as we're going along and the energy is building, I'm noticing different kids dancing in different ways. One guy near the front is doing the heavy metal headbanger move, so I pointed it out and everyone did it. These kids in the back are doing the 'lasso move' as if swinging a lasso overhead, so I had everyone do it. It just builds the energy tremendously when the impulse comes from them, and I used that trick and pretty much brought the house down.
And then it's time to end the song so I tell them to watch my guitar and when I'm lifting it up high to play and play, but when I put it down, CUT!. I have some fun with that finale, changing the durations, making sure they're watching, and it makes for a nice ending. Afterward, the kids were buzzing, but it was no trouble for them to come down and be quiet enough to walk back to class. Not surprisingly, the guidance counselor was a little concerned. 'I've never seen them revved up like that, was it OK with you?' Uh yeah, that was me revving them up.
It's hard to put into words, but there was something important about introducing a catalyst like me into that environment, which could be stultifying if the controllers had their way. It's into that 'One flew over the cuckoo's nest' territory, and I love being the one who challenges it, but can still work within that context. It feels very healthy to introduce fun and music and message, did I mention 'fun', into the control room. High times, and wow, they pay me for this? I'm still pretty buzzed just thinking about that good clean kid energy. Much gratitude for this day, and now I get to Zumba and then dance and play at the weekly blues jam. A great Wednesday!
The alarm got me up at 6:30, which gave me a half hour to shower, load the car and head north. I must have screwed up in copying the mapquest directions, because once I got to Newberg, things stopped making sense, but fortunately, I had left myself a few extra minutes for this type of eventuality. I parked in town, asked a woman who was walking with her morning coffee, told her I was lost, and did she know where the school was. I had the address, she had the Iphone, and voila, I was close, and there was no problem. (that interaction could have been an Iphone commercial... lost traveler saved by Iphone user)
The school itself was fairly new, sparkling with that first week of school energy, and I set up in the gym, as the kids sat quietly in their rows, waiting to be released to class. It was one of those ultra controlled environments which make me a little nervous. I hate it when kids are so tightly programmed to keep quiet, be still, sit with your legs folded etc. Seems unnatural and wrong, but who am I to say.
I got to do two shows, one for the younger kids, followed by one for the older, and they were both great. I totally had each group, start to finish, and there is something exhilarating about being in the center of that energy. Especially for the older group and they were so totally into it, dancing in their places on the floor, singing with gusto, laughing and enjoying themselves, but also focused and thoroughly appropriate. I did have a moment there when I was ecstatic in the midst of the music, almost a transcendent glimpse into heaven, or at least my version of heaven.
That happened during the final song, which I introduced in my usual way. 'I have time for one more song. Do you want a slow boring one or a rock and roll song?' Of course they yell 'rock and roll' and it's kind of cute. I got the teachers up there with me, playing percussion, and one of the guys grabbed the guiro and knew how to use it. That's a bonus. Note to self, make sure a latino dude grabs the guiro. It really makes things come alive.
So I had the kids singing and dancing on the floor, the teachers were into it, playing well and stopping when I said the number 4. (That's something I always do... make sure I have a 'kill switch' so I can get the group to silence and stillness in an instant. And as we're going along and the energy is building, I'm noticing different kids dancing in different ways. One guy near the front is doing the heavy metal headbanger move, so I pointed it out and everyone did it. These kids in the back are doing the 'lasso move' as if swinging a lasso overhead, so I had everyone do it. It just builds the energy tremendously when the impulse comes from them, and I used that trick and pretty much brought the house down.
And then it's time to end the song so I tell them to watch my guitar and when I'm lifting it up high to play and play, but when I put it down, CUT!. I have some fun with that finale, changing the durations, making sure they're watching, and it makes for a nice ending. Afterward, the kids were buzzing, but it was no trouble for them to come down and be quiet enough to walk back to class. Not surprisingly, the guidance counselor was a little concerned. 'I've never seen them revved up like that, was it OK with you?' Uh yeah, that was me revving them up.
It's hard to put into words, but there was something important about introducing a catalyst like me into that environment, which could be stultifying if the controllers had their way. It's into that 'One flew over the cuckoo's nest' territory, and I love being the one who challenges it, but can still work within that context. It feels very healthy to introduce fun and music and message, did I mention 'fun', into the control room. High times, and wow, they pay me for this? I'm still pretty buzzed just thinking about that good clean kid energy. Much gratitude for this day, and now I get to Zumba and then dance and play at the weekly blues jam. A great Wednesday!
ADD.... it all adds up to me (a country song)
It was late one night, I saw this ad on my TV
All about adults who had that ADD
They say it's serious, and requires intervention
For those poor people who can't seem to pay attention
But as for me, I got a paper due on Monday
Gonna sit right down and focus... starting Sunday
Wait a minute, weren't we s'posed to have a get away?
Who cares about a stupid paper anyway?
ADD or maybe some facsimile
When it's time to make a plan
I don't know if I can
C'est la vie (LA VIE)
I'll get to it eventually
On account of my ADD
It all adds up to me
The doctor's diagnosis was a little hazy
He couldn't tell if I had it, or was I just lazy?
I got the sense it really didn't matter at all
When he wrote a scrip for sixteen weeks of Adderall
Hot damn, I haven't felt this good in a while
I lost twenty pounds and re-grouted the bathroom tile
Stay up all night, it's quite a stimulating scene
I think that I'm on some kind of amphetamine
They say they want no child to be left behind
Then they slam a year's worth of benchmarks smack into your mind
And wonder why kids are dropping out all over town
And how can we get Attention Defi-SIT DOWN!
All about adults who had that ADD
They say it's serious, and requires intervention
For those poor people who can't seem to pay attention
But as for me, I got a paper due on Monday
Gonna sit right down and focus... starting Sunday
Wait a minute, weren't we s'posed to have a get away?
Who cares about a stupid paper anyway?
ADD or maybe some facsimile
When it's time to make a plan
I don't know if I can
C'est la vie (LA VIE)
I'll get to it eventually
On account of my ADD
It all adds up to me
The doctor's diagnosis was a little hazy
He couldn't tell if I had it, or was I just lazy?
I got the sense it really didn't matter at all
When he wrote a scrip for sixteen weeks of Adderall
Hot damn, I haven't felt this good in a while
I lost twenty pounds and re-grouted the bathroom tile
Stay up all night, it's quite a stimulating scene
I think that I'm on some kind of amphetamine
They say they want no child to be left behind
Then they slam a year's worth of benchmarks smack into your mind
And wonder why kids are dropping out all over town
And how can we get Attention Defi-SIT DOWN!
ADD it all adds up to me....
I got that little 'here is a song idea' flash this morning while walking around the disc golf course. Yes, that's what I do when I'm free in the morning, take that little walk for a few hours and periodically aim at the baskets. I'm a lousy putter usually, and it's both physical and mental, I've just never been very good at aiming at stuff. Some folks seem more suited to that type of thing, while I'm best at running down stuff and hand-eye coordination. That's why I played center field all those years.
I hate it when I have a short putt and I make a lousy attempt at it, no follow through, and then I watch in dismay as the disc clangs off the basket.... short again. And like I say, it's mostly mental as it's often hard to control my emotions and believe that I can do this thing, I can achieve this goal, put the biscuit in the basket.
So it got me thinking about the whole thing of 'goal orientation', which is some kind of Greek to me, but here is an opportunity to have an experience of actually having an achievable goal. There is the basket, here is the disc, can I put the disc in the basket? as simple as that.
On some level, it's not as important to actually make the putt as to give it a good effort. If the wind takes it off line, or if I misjudge the distance, that's OK as long as I give it a good and confident run. This kind of 'goal orientation' is so different than the far more ephemeral version that has bedeviled me over the years.... the one that makes my mind go into a nosedive and my eyes into 'glaze mode'.
That other version, so tied into 'success' is just confusing to me, most likely because I have no idea what the goal actually is. It's like a different language, one that I don't recognize. There is something about the step one, step two, step three linear approach to life that brings out my helpless mode. Conversely, the ability to focus and create and solve a problem is something I'm very gifted at. In the moment, I'm phenomenal, over the long term? Where's my backpack, I'm outa here. 'does not compute'
I guess I should do some research on ADD (attention deficit disorder), not because I'm particularly interested in it, but merely to gather some vernacular that I could use in a comedy song. Something about the topic seems very open to lampooning, specifically the way that I could use it as an excuse for my lax attitude toward striving and focusing. ADD is both true AND a convenient excuse for not getting stuff done, so I have the feeling that I'd like to mine that vein and see if I can make it as funny as it seems. So that's what I'll do now.... go into comedy writing mode. All I have so far is
C'est la vie (LA VIE)
Confusion far as I can see
It all adds up to ADD
It all adds up to me
None of that is a keeper yet, it's just a starting point. Vamos a ver
I hate it when I have a short putt and I make a lousy attempt at it, no follow through, and then I watch in dismay as the disc clangs off the basket.... short again. And like I say, it's mostly mental as it's often hard to control my emotions and believe that I can do this thing, I can achieve this goal, put the biscuit in the basket.
So it got me thinking about the whole thing of 'goal orientation', which is some kind of Greek to me, but here is an opportunity to have an experience of actually having an achievable goal. There is the basket, here is the disc, can I put the disc in the basket? as simple as that.
On some level, it's not as important to actually make the putt as to give it a good effort. If the wind takes it off line, or if I misjudge the distance, that's OK as long as I give it a good and confident run. This kind of 'goal orientation' is so different than the far more ephemeral version that has bedeviled me over the years.... the one that makes my mind go into a nosedive and my eyes into 'glaze mode'.
That other version, so tied into 'success' is just confusing to me, most likely because I have no idea what the goal actually is. It's like a different language, one that I don't recognize. There is something about the step one, step two, step three linear approach to life that brings out my helpless mode. Conversely, the ability to focus and create and solve a problem is something I'm very gifted at. In the moment, I'm phenomenal, over the long term? Where's my backpack, I'm outa here. 'does not compute'
I guess I should do some research on ADD (attention deficit disorder), not because I'm particularly interested in it, but merely to gather some vernacular that I could use in a comedy song. Something about the topic seems very open to lampooning, specifically the way that I could use it as an excuse for my lax attitude toward striving and focusing. ADD is both true AND a convenient excuse for not getting stuff done, so I have the feeling that I'd like to mine that vein and see if I can make it as funny as it seems. So that's what I'll do now.... go into comedy writing mode. All I have so far is
C'est la vie (LA VIE)
Confusion far as I can see
It all adds up to ADD
It all adds up to me
None of that is a keeper yet, it's just a starting point. Vamos a ver
Ya Never Know
Just another day, or so I thought, dance class at 8:30 followed by a few rounds of disc golf for my morning workout. Class was fantastic and it's a total joy to have a class that challenges me to the degree that Dana's does. She's really coming on as a choreographer and the routines are getting a little bit more difficult, but I find that they are exactly the right level for my development. I'm having to concentrate fully, and give maximum effort. You can't ask for more than that from a class. And I can do it, maybe not perfectly, but the further we go, the more I can recognize and integrate. She adds new twists for each combination, and we're getting quite the repertoire of moves and techniques. Love it.
And then on to the golf course, feeling nicely warmed up by the class, and as usual, it's pretty quiet in the morning. I see that older Thai guy who is there most every day, and I slip in ahead of him, as he's throwing a bunch of discs on number two. I tee off on three so I can stay out of his way. Normally I go pretty fast playing two discs, so everything is as it should be.
Until I temporarily lose a disc on number 4 and have to spend some time wandering around looking for it. As I'm searching about, I see him on the tee, so I wave him on to pass me. I find my disc shortly after so we end up on the 5th tee together and start playing with one another. He introduces himself as 'Sy' and offers me his hand. I say, 'I know you're Sy, we've met before', and then I add that I'm going to Thailand this winter, just like last year. He says, 'I'm not Thai, I'm from Laos, the next country over'. and we begin a fascinating conversation that took a surprising turn.
He mentioned that he hadn't been back for 35 years and added that he had been in jail before he left. The mid 70's was when the Communists took over so it piqued my interest, and sure enough, he had been jailed for working with the Americans during the war, but not just working with them, being a highly placed translator during the 'secret war' in Laos and Cambodia during the Vietnam conflict.
I said, 'what? were you in there with Henry Kissinger?' and he said, yes, many times. I got his basic story.... he was a lawyer trained in Vientienne, the capital of Laos. The Americans paid for him to study in Paris and in London. I said, 'so you're fluent in English, French, and Lao'... to which he added, 'yes, and Spanish, German, Russian and Thai'.
I just got the bare bones of his story, how he was part of the negotiations and translations during the secret war, when the Americans were trying to prevent North Vietnam from supplying their forces along the Ho Chi Minh trail which went through Laos and Cambodia. I will have to ask him much more about it as it is really interesting to me, and what an opportunity to have this guy to talk to.... on the golf course, no less. So the story will continue.
In his personal tale, once Saigon fell and the Communists took over and then the dominoes fell in Laos and Cambodia, he was arrested and imprisoned. At night he was kept in a pit underground and during the day he was part of the 'forced labor'. He had to cut down trees to build settlements, and during that time, there was some kind of accident that broke his leg and put him in the hospital. He was able to escape from that less restrictive environment and fled over the border into Thailand. He tells me that he snuck back into Laos to retrieve his wife and young son and the three of them eventually made it to the US, thanks to some of those connections he had forged in the 60s and 70s. He worked here as a painter and is now retired and living across the street from the disc golf course where he spends most mornings. To be continued.
And then on to the golf course, feeling nicely warmed up by the class, and as usual, it's pretty quiet in the morning. I see that older Thai guy who is there most every day, and I slip in ahead of him, as he's throwing a bunch of discs on number two. I tee off on three so I can stay out of his way. Normally I go pretty fast playing two discs, so everything is as it should be.
Until I temporarily lose a disc on number 4 and have to spend some time wandering around looking for it. As I'm searching about, I see him on the tee, so I wave him on to pass me. I find my disc shortly after so we end up on the 5th tee together and start playing with one another. He introduces himself as 'Sy' and offers me his hand. I say, 'I know you're Sy, we've met before', and then I add that I'm going to Thailand this winter, just like last year. He says, 'I'm not Thai, I'm from Laos, the next country over'. and we begin a fascinating conversation that took a surprising turn.
He mentioned that he hadn't been back for 35 years and added that he had been in jail before he left. The mid 70's was when the Communists took over so it piqued my interest, and sure enough, he had been jailed for working with the Americans during the war, but not just working with them, being a highly placed translator during the 'secret war' in Laos and Cambodia during the Vietnam conflict.
I said, 'what? were you in there with Henry Kissinger?' and he said, yes, many times. I got his basic story.... he was a lawyer trained in Vientienne, the capital of Laos. The Americans paid for him to study in Paris and in London. I said, 'so you're fluent in English, French, and Lao'... to which he added, 'yes, and Spanish, German, Russian and Thai'.
I just got the bare bones of his story, how he was part of the negotiations and translations during the secret war, when the Americans were trying to prevent North Vietnam from supplying their forces along the Ho Chi Minh trail which went through Laos and Cambodia. I will have to ask him much more about it as it is really interesting to me, and what an opportunity to have this guy to talk to.... on the golf course, no less. So the story will continue.
In his personal tale, once Saigon fell and the Communists took over and then the dominoes fell in Laos and Cambodia, he was arrested and imprisoned. At night he was kept in a pit underground and during the day he was part of the 'forced labor'. He had to cut down trees to build settlements, and during that time, there was some kind of accident that broke his leg and put him in the hospital. He was able to escape from that less restrictive environment and fled over the border into Thailand. He tells me that he snuck back into Laos to retrieve his wife and young son and the three of them eventually made it to the US, thanks to some of those connections he had forged in the 60s and 70s. He worked here as a painter and is now retired and living across the street from the disc golf course where he spends most mornings. To be continued.
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