How I Met Oscar Schindler

Nearly two years ago I was beginning a trip to Europe from Vietnam and our first stop was Frankfurt and a meeting with Oskar Schindler - you know, the one from Schindler's list fame - but not exactly in person. For me, I would meet Mr. Schindler through the gift of a friend, Erika, and even have a short visit to his last apartment. Finally this year I got around to reading that gift, a book by David Crowe entitled 'Oskar Schindler - The untold account of his life, his wartime activities and the true story behind the list.', and as you might have guessed, it's not the same story told in the Speilberg film. In this telling, David Crowe, a historian and President Emeritus of the Association for the Studies of Nationalities at Columbia University brings us a less than riveting portrait of a man who was both conflicted and complex in his wartime work and personal life. A lover of wine, women and song, a spy, a man playing both sides in more than two sides of his life, Schindler is presented by Crowe as more of a historical study and much less is revealed about his motivations. Given this document of study and a Hollywood film we still know little about the man himself.

But I learned a little more that day. I learned that given the internet and new ways to communicate, that a jazz singer from L.A. living in Germany and a man from New York living in Vietnam who had never met could meet and find common ground over a man named Oskar Schindler - so still, even in death he has an impact. A positive one.

Schindler's wife was less charitable. At his grave, she had this to say, "Well, Oskar, we meet again. But this is not the time for reproaches and complaints. It would not be fair to you or to me. Now you are in another world, in eternity, and I can no longer ask you all those questions to which you would have given evasive replies...and death is the best evasion of all. I have received no answers. my dear. I do not know why you abandoned me...but what not even your death or my old age can change is that we are still married. This is how we are before God. I have forgiven you everything, everything."

Now, two years after a trip that had too many unknown unknowns, I understand that I may not ever understand what really happened - that I may never have many answers. My mother would die with many secrets and one day my father will too. And the rest of us are left to piece together what they left us for a life. And that in turn will become our own personal suspension of disbeliefs - the book of our own lives that we alone may write..

I can't count the number of people/companies who want free stuff!

In Vietnam, everybody loves my work. But the minute I ask them to pay, anything at all, they all back off. Why? Because the expat people are all working on a budget that doesn't include money (except what they get paid) and the Vietnamese are all working on a budget that doesn't include money (except what they get paid). So what up? I can't help them because there is no money. Simple. But not their best choice. I spoke with a DJ and a rapper who said the same thing about his business. People want him to work for 'exposure'. Geez. If I get any more exposure my butt will get sunburned.

And this is not coming from nobodies. This is coming from graduates of Wesleyan University, The University of Chicago, American University, Ivy League schools and too many East Coast prep schools. These are people with educations that cost upwards of a quarter of a million dollars, yet they come to Vietnam and deal in pennies - except when it comes to their houses, and their cars, and certainly their salaries.

Back at Leo Burnett in Chicago we had plenty of people like that. People from the North Shore with MBA's from Northwestern, mostly in marketing. We called those people, 'Hobbyists'. They were trust fund babies that didn't so much need a real job, but needed a job that looked to others like they had a real job, so they could go to the office every day and the symphony every weekend and to their country club events whenever needed. People from 'good' families - as the Koreans might say of their top tier. It took me a while to understand people like this. If I didn't have to work for my money, I certainly couldn't understand people who did. But I understand people like that now.

Recently, I saw a magazine launch and their big news was that the editor was the wife of the ambassador of a reasonably exotic sounding European country. A hobbyist for sure. But it looks great on the mag's sales pitch - and god knows, she doesn't need the money.

Count the Bentleys in town town amongst the locals who are most definitely making a buck. Watch another expat high-rise go up in Anh Phu or Phu My Hyun. In Vietnam we're beginning to witness one of the most surreal states of suspension of disbelief that we've seen outside of China in recent times. The one that makes people believe, that so long as they are doing well, that things are truly going well. And that's a worry. Oops, there's another boatload of expensively educated foreign NGO workers come to help Vietnam. Good. They work cheap. Mom and dad think they're saving poor people.