年暮感言

又是一个年暮时分。清晨推开窗，休斯敦的冬天还带着南方的温度，没有冰雪覆地，只有一层薄薄的凉意，轻轻提醒我：又过了一年。日历翻得愈来愈薄，心裡却愈来愈沉，沉的不是疲惫，而是一份对时间的敬畏——原来岁月从不言语，却从不停止。

这一年，世界依然风高浪急。战火还在远方延烧，难民还在异乡颠沛，选票与枪声交错着写现代史。萤幕一亮一灭之间，新的科技、更新的 AI、大数据、机器人……像潮水般涌来，改变了新闻、改变了金融，也改变了每一个普通人的生活方式。有人欢呼，有人惶恐，而我这个走过半个多世纪风雨的人，只觉得：时代不等人，我们却不能丢掉做人做事的初心。

回望自己的这一年，没有惊天动地，却步步都算实实在在。写稿、开会、奔走於社区与城市之间，為报纸、為电视、為金融中心、為医疗与教育，也為这片承载无数移民梦想的土地。有人问我：「你不累吗？」我常笑说，其实身子会累，心却还没有退休。只要还能提笔，还能开口，还能為这个社会说一句公道话、為下一代铺一块小小的路石，就觉得活得有意义。

年暮时分，人总是特别容易想起“得”与“失”。得，是朋友还在、家人平安、事业仍能缓慢向前；失，是青春已远去，很多故人渐行渐远，有些当年的理想也在现实中打了折扣。但走到这个年纪才明白：真正能留下的，不是名片上的头衔，也不是银行帐上的数字，而是一段段真诚的情谊、一件件对别人有益的小事，以及那些在风雨中没有被吹熄的信念。

对於未来，我不再奢谈宏大的口号，只想安安稳稳地做几件“小事”：把每一篇文章写得再真诚一点，把每一次握手握得再用力一点，把每一个年轻人的梦想多听一分鐘、多鼓励一句话。让办的报纸更有人味、做的金融更有良心、建的楼宇更有灵魂——如果有一天我走了，这些东西还能替我说话，那就足够了。

年将尽，心不尽。愿新的一年，世界少一点仇恨，多一点理解；城市少一点冷漠，多一点微笑；自己少一点牢骚，多一点感恩。也愿所有在异乡打拼的华人，无论身在何处，在这岁暮时分，都能对自己说一句：辛苦了，明年，我们一起继续向前。

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.”