年暮感言

又是一個年暮時分。清晨推開窗，休斯敦的冬天還帶著南方的溫度，沒有冰雪覆地，只有一層薄薄的涼意，輕輕提醒我：又過了一年。日曆翻得愈來愈薄，心裡卻愈來愈沉，沉的不是疲憊，而是一份對時間的敬畏——原來歲月從不言語，卻從不停止。

這一年，世界依然風高浪急。戰火還在遠方延燒，難民還在異鄉顛沛，選票與槍聲交錯著寫現代史。螢幕一亮一滅之間，新的科技、更新的 AI、大數據、機器人……像潮水般湧來，改變了新聞、改變了金融，也改變了每一個普通人的生活方式。有人歡呼，有人惶恐，而我這個走過半個多世紀風雨的人，只覺得：時代不等人，我們卻不能丟掉做人做事的初心。

回望自己的這一年，沒有驚天動地，卻步步都算實實在在。寫稿、開會、奔走於社區與城市之間，為報紙、為電視、為金融中心、為醫療與教育，也為這片承載無數移民夢想的土地。有人問我：「你不累嗎？」我常笑說，其實身子會累，心卻還沒有退休。只要還能提筆，還能開口，還能為這個社會說一句公道話、為下一代鋪一塊小小的路石，就覺得活得有意義。

年暮時分，人總是特別容易想起“得”與“失”。得，是朋友還在、家人平安、事業仍能緩慢向前；失，是青春已遠去，很多故人漸行漸遠，有些當年的理想也在現實中打了折扣。但走到這個年紀才明白：真正能留下的，不是名片上的頭銜，也不是銀行帳上的數字，而是一段段真誠的情誼、一件件對別人有益的小事，以及那些在風雨中沒有被吹熄的信念。

對於未來，我不再奢談宏大的口號，只想安安穩穩地做幾件“小事”：把每一篇文章寫得再真誠一點，把每一次握手握得再用力一點，把每一個年輕人的夢想多聽一分鐘、多鼓勵一句話。讓辦的報紙更有人味、做的金融更有良心、建的樓宇更有靈魂——如果有一天我走了，這些東西還能替我說話，那就足夠了。

年將盡，心不盡。願新的一年，世界少一點仇恨，多一點理解；城市少一點冷漠，多一點微笑；自己少一點牢騷，多一點感恩。也願所有在異鄉打拼的華人，無論身在何處，在這歲暮時分，都能對自己說一句：辛苦了，明年，我們一起繼續向前。

Year-End Reflections

Another year is drawing to a close.

This morning, when I opened the window, Houston’s winter still carried the warmth of the South—no snow-covered streets, just a thin layer of chill in the air, gently reminding me: another year has passed. The pages of the calendar grow thinner, yet my heart feels heavier—not with exhaustion, but with a deep respect for time itself. Time never speaks, yet it never stops.

This year, the world has remained rough and turbulent. Wars still rage in distant lands, refugees wander in foreign countries, and ballots and gunshots intertwine to write the history of our era. With every flicker of a screen, new technologies appear—AI, big data, robots—rolling in like a tide. They have changed journalism, changed finance, and are changing the daily lives of ordinary people. Some cheer, some worry. As someone who has weathered more than half a century of storms, I only feel this: the times will not wait for us, but we must not abandon our original ideals of how to live and how to act.

Looking back at my own year, there was nothing earth-shattering, yet every step felt concrete and real. Writing articles, attending meetings, moving between community and city—working for newspapers, for television, for financial centers, for medicine and education, and for this land that holds so many immigrant dreams. People sometimes ask me, “Aren’t you tired?” I often laugh and say: the body does get tired, but the heart has not yet retired. As long as I can still write, still speak, still say a fair word for society and lay even one more small stone on the road for the next generation, I feel my life still has meaning.

At year’s end, people naturally think about what they have “gained” and “lost.”

What I have gained is this: friends who are still here, family who remain safe, and projects that can still inch forward. What I have lost is obvious too: youth has gone far ahead of me, many old friends have gradually drifted away, and some of the ideals of my younger days have been trimmed down by reality. Yet only at this age do I truly understand: what can really endure is not the title on a business card, nor the numbers in a bank account. It is the bonds of genuine friendship, the small deeds that truly helped others, and the beliefs that were never extinguished, even in the wind and rain.

As for the future, I no longer feel the need to shout grand slogans. I simply want to do a few “small” things well: to write each article with a bit more sincerity; to shake every hand with a bit more strength; to listen one minute longer to each young person’s dream, and add one more word of encouragement. To make the newspapers we run a little more humane, the finance we do a little more conscientious, the buildings we construct a little more soulful—if one day I am gone and these things can still speak on my behalf, that will be enough.

The year will soon end, but the heart does not.

In the new year, I hope the world will hold a little less hatred and a little more understanding; our cities, a little less indifference and a little more warmth; and I myself, a little less complaint and a little more gratitude.

And to all who are striving far from home, wherever you may be: at this turning of the year, I hope you can gently say to yourself—

“You’ve worked hard. Next year, we will keep moving forward together.”