The Longest Year

Author： Hugh Li Photography: ACAN

I remember it clearly one year ago exactly: first it was the cancellation of SXSW after a 33-year continuous run, then the NBA season was suspended, and the WHO declared COVID19 a global pandemic, and then my son came home from UT Austin – and never went back. 

What followed has been the longest year ever in my memory.

I haven’t seen my parents, who live in a Houston-area senior housing community, for more than a year. The lines on their aged faces had blended into a blur on a recent Zoom call;

My son graduated from UT Austin in May, on a TV screen in our living room. He went to Wisconsin in June for his first job, but never met his manager or his colleagues in person;

My older daughter graduated high school a valedictorian, but didn’t have the chance to give the speech to a live audience. No prom either. She started her college in the Fall, through Zoom in the office upstairs. She finally set her foot on campus last month, but in a living arrangement not much different than that of a house arrest;

Our dining room table became the office space for both my wife and myself since March last year. It still is today, every day.

This pandemic has utterly and mercilessly upended our lives, and the lives of billions of people on our planet. As excruciatingly and helplessly painful as it is, we were still the lucky ones: my parents were healthy and well cared for; my son graduated on time and actually started his first job during the darkest days of the pandemic; my daughter still had her speech heard online, still started her MIT education on time, and actually saw the skylines of Boston; and my wife and I still have our jobs and incomes. 

A lot of people fared worse, much worse.  Our neighbor across the street lost their brother after a 3-month battle with COVID. He was actually a surgeon who contracted it while saving other COVID patients. A friend of ours lost her mother in Wuhan during the early days of the pandemic, and up till today, she still hasn’t been able to visit her mother’s grave and say proper goodbye. 

As I reflect on this past year,  just like countless others, I find myself struggling for words to properly capture this enormity. Strange, fearful, helpless, sad, Zoom, alone…those are some of the words that came to my mind. Yet, none of them captures the enormous disruptions to what we know as “normal”. 

Still, this is also a year in which the words love, family, service, community and above all else, hope, took on new, profound meanings. Millions of people spontaneously volunteered their time, money and heart to help neighbors, strangers and communities to cope, to rebuild and to hope again. I’m fortunately a part of ACAN, a non-profit dedicated to its core missions of “serving our community, fostering our heritage”, and ACAN embodied those words extraordinarily well.

In serving our community, ACAN not only served our own community in need, it extended the definition of “community” to all of Austin and beyond: PPE donations all over the city, the State, and as far as New York during the early days of the crisis where they were desperately needed; food donations to hospitals, homeless camps, youth care centers, and kids in a RV park; fundraising through running, concerts, arts and plain donation from many of you. Altogether, ACAN donated ~60,000 facemasks, ~12000 face shields, ~16000 meals, and $13000 to other non-profit organizations. For a stretch of 4 months starting late March, every Wednesday and Saturday became an “ACAN Day” in some of the hardest hit homeless camps in Austin. In this spirit, ACAN indeed became “my brother’s keeper”.

In fostering our heritage, ACAN continued our culture outreach programs in the early months and successfully hosted our annual ACCF. In a perhaps more meaningful spirit of Chinese heritage, we opened our arms, our hearts and our wallets, sometimes in the backdrop of malicious bigotry and hatred towards Chinese Americans, to extend our tradition of “老吾老，以及人之老；幼吾幼，以及人之幼“ to help our neighbors in any way we can. In concerts and in youth art programs, Chinese elements were everywhere, and they took on the purpose and meaning in caring and providing for the less fortunate.  And the most satisfying part is seeing our youths stepping up, big time, in participating and, in many occasions, leading ACAN’s community service programs, making their own generational marks in a unique chapter of our Chinese American storybook.

It is no doubt the longest year ever for millions of people. Yet, Spring has assertively returned, bringing with it renewed hope and a whiff of normalcy that had never been felt as precious before. As we tally all the things we lost in this long year, let us also count the gems we collected along the way: “ACAN Day”, a thank-you note from a doctor, the smile of a nurse behind the clear faceshield,  a plaque from a sister organization honoring our work, and the Anne McAfee Community Response Award by Travis County Democratic Party.. 

As for me and my family, we collected our son’s UT diploma, a picture of his office, our daughter’s valedictorian speech, and a midnight hug when we finally said goodbye to the year 2020, the longest year in my life.

作者： 一修 图片：华盟

我记得清清楚楚，整一年前：首先是奥斯汀有着33年传统的南偏西南音乐节（SXSW）被取消了，然后是NBA篮球赛季被停摆，接着世卫组织宣布COVID19成为全球大流行病，然后儿子从德大奥斯汀分校撤回家里，从此再也没有回过近在咫尺的校园。

接下来的一年，毫无疑问，是我记忆中最长的一年。

一年多了，我再未见过住在休斯敦地区老人公寓的父母。在最近的Zoom视频中，记忆中的皱纹在他们饱经沧桑的脸上已经变得模糊不清；

儿子五月份从德大毕业了，是在家里客厅的电视屏幕上。疫情爆发的六月，他去了威斯康星开始人生第一份工作，但却从未面对面见过他的经理或同事；

大女儿高中毕业了，是年级第一名，但却没有面对老师，同学，家长的实况演讲,也没有毕业舞会。秋天，她上大学了，但上的是实实在在的电大。她终于在上个月踏上了校园，但起居、学习安排与软禁没有太大区别。

自从去年三月以来，我家的餐桌成了我妻子和我自己的办公桌，也算是举案齐眉，直到如今。

这场疫情彻底无情地改变了地球上每一个人的生活。尽管它给人类带来了深重的苦难和无助，但我家仍然是幸运者：我的父母身体健康，被照顾得很好；我的儿子准时毕业，在疫情最黑暗的日子里仍旧开始了他的第一份工作；我的女儿仍然在网上作了毕业演讲，仍然按时开始了她的麻省理工学院大学生涯；虽晚了5个月，她还是看到了波士顿的天际线；我的妻子和我都还有工作和收入。

相比起来，很多人的境况更糟糟糕：马路对面邻居的哥哥在与COVID进行了3个月的抗争后，最终还是走了。他是一位外科医生，是在抢救其他COVID患者的时候感染了新冠；在疫情初期，我们的一个朋友失去了在武汉的母亲，直到今天，她仍然无法去母亲的坟前和母亲告别。

回顾过去的一年，我发现自己和无数其他人一样，无法用有限的词汇来概括2020年：奇怪，害怕，无助，悲伤，Zoom，勇气，孤独……这些都是我想到的一些词。然而，它们都无法确切地描述2020年这样一个彻底颠倒“正常”的年份。

尽管如此，在这一年中，“爱，家庭，服务，社区”，特别是“希望“，这几个词汇却拥有了新的深刻含义。无数的人们自发地奉献自己的时间，金钱和爱心来帮助周围的邻居，陌生人和整个社会，重建家园，点燃希望。在过去的一年里，我有幸参与非营利组织奥斯汀华裔联盟（ACAN），致力于“服务社区，传承文化”的核心使命，很好地实践并体现了这些词汇的含义。

在服务社区方面，华盟不仅为自己的社区服务，在特殊的时代，华盟还把“社区”的定义扩展到了奥斯汀及以外的所有地区：向全市，德州和甚至纽约市捐助急需的个人防护装备（PPE）；向医院，无家可归者营地，青年看护中心和房车公园中的孩子们捐赠食物；通过义跑，音乐会，艺术和许多人的捐赠进行筹款。九个月下来，华盟给各个组织和机构总共捐赠了约60,000个口罩，12,000个面罩，16,000顿饭和13,000美元。从3月下旬开始，在长达4个月的时间内，由于华盟的送饭，在一些受灾最严重的无家可归者营地，每个周三和周六都变成了“华盟日”。本着这种精神，华盟义无反顾地成为了“我兄弟的守护者”。

在传承文化方面，华盟在年初的几个月中继续了我们的文化宣传计划，并成功举办了年度中华文化节。本着一种也许更有意义的中国传统精神，我们张开双臂，敞开心扉和钱包，即使在对华裔的恶意歧视和仇恨威胁日益高涨的背景下，仍然以古训中“老吾老，以及人之老；幼吾幼，以及人之幼”的精神为指引，尽一切可能帮助我们的邻居。在数次募捐音乐会和青年艺术节目中，中国元素无处不在，它们的内在含意具体地体现在为贫困者提供帮助和照顾的行动中。而今年最令人欣慰的是我们的下一代年轻人挺身而出，参与并在许多场合下组织、领导了众多华盟的社区服务计划，在这个特殊的年代，为美国华裔历史故事书留下了浓墨重彩的一笔。

毫无疑问，这是无数的人们生命中最长的一年。然而，春天还是如期而至了，带着新的希望和一丝久违的寻常。当我们在为这漫长的一年中所有的失去而唏嘘的同时，让我们也数点一路走来收获的珠宝：“华盟日”，一封医生的感谢信，透明面罩后面的一个护士的微笑，一个姐妹组织表彰华盟工作的牌匾，和荣获Travis郡民主党Anne McAfee 社区服务奖的殊荣。

至于我们家，我们也收获了儿子的德大文凭，他办公室的照片，女儿的毕业演讲以及一个除夕午夜告别2020的拥抱 – 人生最长的一年，终于还是成了过往。