The Affections of My Life

When I look back over the 90 years of my life， through all the tumultuous events， highs and lows， joys and sorrows， I see that one bright， shining emotion has always warmed my heart： affection.

The pillar supporting me throughout has been family love： the care of my parents， the love of my wife and children， and the close feelings between myself and my siblings. The lifelong devotion and unswerving trust between my wife and I have particularly been the bedrock upon which we have been able to depend， often in the face of repeated severe political turmoil and crushing pressures. However， we have endured and survived because of our strong belief in the correctness of our choices. Together we weathered many difficult times， and our deep affection allowed us to bring up four children and enjoy much family happiness. Together we have grown with our country and our people， fully appreciating the meaning of life， knowing that we have made use of every minute.

First Steps at Southwest Associated University

My first exposure to politics occurred in the 1940s when I attended Southwest Associated University. I was young and naive， but was lucky to fall in with a large group of highly motivated and socially conscious people who led me on to the path of revolution， which I have followed throughout my life. When things became really difficult and pressures mounted， it was these comrades-in-arms who supported and encouraged me， and gave me confidence. Many of them later all came under attack in the many political movements， but their steadfast adherence to the truth set me a shining example， and gave me the courage to carry on. In 1979， when the “cultural revolution” finally came to an end， all of us “veterans” gathered together in Beijing for a grand reunion. This was a memorable meeting which marked us all deeply. The elderly writer Ma Shitu， the oldest of us， and the leader of the underground Communist Party cell in the National Southwest Associated University， was moved to write the following poem：

Snow and ice melt， spring bursts forth，

Old friends meet joyfully in Beijing.

Our hair has grown white as we build a new world，

Along the way， so much to tell and say.

Those who have not seen the sea know not what it means，

Those who have not seen Mount Wu know nothing of clouds.

What joy that the mountains and rivers are as grand as ever，

And that from the high peaks the view is boundless

He wrote a special note： “In March 1979， twenty years of wrongs are righted and old friends can celebrate. Schoolmates gather in Beijing to rejoice. I am tipsy， but must pen this poem so we do not forget. Old Man Ma Shitu.”

My “Commerce” Friends

I have worked in news media all my life. My first job was as a journalist at the Chongqing Commercial Daily， and my first assignment was to cover the “Chongqing Negotiations” of 1945 between the Kuomintang and the Communist Party. These would decide the fate of China. The Communist Xinhua Daily and the Kuomintang Zhongyang Daily were constantly at loggerheads. Although the Commercial Daily was the official mouthpiece of the Chongqing Chamber of Commerce and the director was even a leader in the Kuomintang Youth Organization （Sanqing Tuan）， the paper nonetheless took a neutral stand and urged peace. This was thanks to the fact that a number of Communist Party members had infiltrated the editorial and reporting offices， and were actually in charge of all the work. They were not only skilled reporters but very good at talking to people and winning them over.

My contact with these older more seasoned revolutionaries made me feel that I had joined a huge revolutionary family， and had found a group of friends and mentors. In the decades that followed， our friendships never wavered and we have always been able to rely on each other’s trust and support in times of difficulty and danger. After 1949， all of these friends did outstanding work in the news media. Among them was Qin Benli， editor-in-chief of the nationally prestigious World Economic Herald. He had originally been a reporter on the Commercial Daily. The Herald played a key pioneering role in the period of reforms and opening up， and as a result came under huge pressure from certain powerful quarters， but he refused to bow to them， setting a strong example for the entire media. I went to see him （in Shanghai） when I heard he was suffering from cancer. He had no regrets and we talked at length about his beliefs. I knew sadly this was most likely the last time I would see him， so I took photos of us. I will never forget how my “Commerce” friends have given me confidence and strength throughout my life.

Telling the World about China

My destiny seems to be using foreign languages to tell the world about China. On the eve of the War of Liberation， I worked at New China Weekly founded in Shanghai， then during the War at China Digest published in Hong Kong， then after 1949 at People’s China， the first foreign language magazine to be published by the new government. In 1957， I was invited by Mme Soong Ching Ling， whom I greatly admired， to work for the magazine China Reconstructs that she had founded. It is now called China Today， and I worked there until I retired at the age of 67. As China has developed and the world situation has changed， many people have become knowledgeable at promoting understanding and contacts between China and other countries. As one of this group， I feel honored and proud. With the decades， I have come to understand that China is but one member of the global village， and that only through mutual understanding can we all coexist and prosper. This has never been an easy task， and many have spent their lives working towards this goal. Edgar Snow， the American journalist， is one excellent example. His book Red Star Over China can be said to have changed the relations between China and the rest of the world. I have had the honor to have worked with Israel Epstein and Jack Chen， who have also made outstanding contributions. Not only did I learn a great deal about journalism from them， their integrity and character were also models for me to emulate. Their advice and friendship encouraged me to pursue my path.

Meeting the Flying Tigers

In the most unexpected way， my life gained an international dimension from a chance meeting with American pilots of the Flying Tigers based in Kunming， resulting in friendships that have lasted our whole lives. We may have come from different races and cultures， but our common aspirations bound us tightly together. They were in China to help in the war against Japan， but knew very little about the country. Hoping to learn more， they took the initiative to meet and get to know Chinese university students who spoke English. Over the next two years， practically every two weeks， we would all get together to talk about the history and current states of our two countries. They expressed a desire to know more about Yenan and the liberated areas， and we were also interested in knowing how Americans had fought the British colonialists and founded the young republic. We discovered we had common goals： to build a peaceful world after the war so that all peoples could live happily. After Japan was defeated， all the pilots returned to the US via Chongqing， and a number of them， with the help of the Communist underground， were able to meet Zhou Enlai and Mao Zedong who were both there for the Kuomintang-Communist Party negotiations. Three of them were invited to Hongyan Village to a meal with Mao Zedong， and heard his prediction that there would always be friendship between the peoples of China and the U.S.. The group photograph taken at this historic occasion still hangs in the local museum， a testimony to this friendship. However， after 1949， China-US relations entered a 30-year period of hostility and my contacts with my American friends were broken. During the “cultural revolution”， this whole experience became proof of my “traitorous activities” and I was persecuted. In the U.S. in the 1950s， under the “white terror” of McCarthyism， my American friends who advocated establishing diplomatic relations with New China were also persecuted， and even had to hide this group photograph taken with Mao Zedong in their garden. By the time they could dig it out again， it had turned yellow. After President Nixon’s icebreaking visit to China in 1972， they eagerly came to China to look up their old friends， but the “cultural revolution” was still in full swing， and they were unable to contact us. However， when they went to visit Hongyan Village， they were amazed to find their photograph still hanging on the museum wall， and they were told by the guide that it has always been there since 1958， even when China-US relations were at their most hostile period. This moved them deeply for it showed that China had always thought of the American people as friends. In Shanghai， they were thrilled to meet up with Li Chuwen whom they had known in Kunming， and who was now a minister in the International Church. However， they were puzzled by his awkward demeanor and reticence， so unlike his former self. It was only after the end of the “cultural revolution” that they understood why， but at that meeting they told their children， “This is one of the Chinese friends who changed your father’s life.” The younger generation probably found it hard to understand， but it was true.

On January 1，1979， history took another turn： after 30 years of hostility， China and the United States declared the establishment of formal diplomatic relations. For me， after 21 years of political persecution and marginalization， the unthinkable occurred： I was assigned to Washington DC to work as the first journalist ever for China’s foremost newspaper People’s Daily. Even more unexpectedly， when I arrived in Washington， I found a vase of fresh flowers waiting for me in my room. It had been sent all the way from New York by my Flying Tiger pilot friends. The card said， “Rewrite history！” I called them and said I would meet them soon in New York， but they said， “No， we have waited 35 years， we won’t wait a day longer！” And the next day they took a plane to DC. We fell into each other’s arms. From that time on， our friendship deepened， and through them I made many new friends. My understanding of American society and people also grew. They treated me like family， making me feel at home wherever I went. On one trip， my friend Bell picked me up at the station and brought me to his home. He gave me a set of house keys so I could come and go at pleasure. One night， I went to the movies with a friend and came back late. As I let myself in， Bell rushed over and said angrily， “Where have you been？” Worried that something might have happened to me on the streets of New York， he had called the police and the hospital emergency rooms several times asking after me. I apologized profusely for not telling him where I was going， but at the same time I couldn’t help being deeply touched by his concern and worry. After this incident， I wrote an article “Affection Knows no Borders” to express my feelings. These friendships opened my eyes to many things and deepened my understanding of the meaning of“caring.”

The Pleasure of Memories

At my age now， remembering the past is a kind of pleasure. My “Save Folder” is packed full of memories. The bitter painful ones have receded with time， now only the sweet， affection-filled ones remain.

In 1972 I turned fifty. I asked for leave from the cadre school where I was working in Henan to visit my mother in Chengdu where she had gone to take refuge during the “cultural revolution”. I wanted to see her to express my love and gratitude for all she had done for me. On the eve of my departure， my wife Pei gave me a gift to take： a basket full of eggs laid by the hens she cared for， each one inscribed with the date it was laid. Such a price- less gift heavy with affection！

In Chengdu， I unexpectedly met my mentor， Ma Shitu again. He had just been released from prison where he had been during the “cultural revolution”， and was at home awaiting “liberation.” Meeting him there was huge surprise for us both and we embraced for a long time. Then we got on our bikes and rode out to Du Fu’s Pavilion for a good chat. There we found that the ancient pots of bonsai， that the Red Guards had labeled as “four olds” and had wanted to smash were still there， completely unharmed and beautiful as ever. We were told that all had been given a “revolutionary overcoat，” such as hanging strands of wire between the ornamental rocks and labeling them“The Red Army crossing the Dadu River.” The Red Guards had refrained from destroying them. We marveled at the ingenuity of the Chinese common people.

In 2003， Dalong， my second son， drove me to Lecun in Henan for a very special “family visit.” In 1969， at the height of the “cultural revolution”， our family was “cleansed” and sent here to be “re-educated by the poor and lowermiddle class peasants.” We were four of us， my wife and two youngest children： Dalong not yet 10， and Xiaohong who was only 5 and going to kindergarten. Peili， my eldest daughter had been sent to settle on a state-run farm in the North East， while Xiaoyan， my 15-year-old eldest son remained behind to work as a shop assistant. All those who came to Lecun were considered to be “evil elements” in need of “re-education through labor，” and this was how we were described to the local inhabitants. However， we soon discovered that the villagers were very down-to-earth， and not influenced by any of this. Very quickly， we made friends as we worked in the fields and helped each other. My wife went to teach in the local middle school and soon became a favorite teacher. Students used to drop by our house to help with chores and fetch water with a carrying-pole. Often when we opened the door in the morning we would find fresh vegetables on the doorstep， left there by one of the students. My wife always took them to the school kitchen so everyone could share. She became very close to all her students. On this“home visit” we were still some way from the village， but many of our old friends had come to meet us on the freeway. We all embraced. In the days that followed， we were filled with an amazing feeling of homecoming. I would never have believed how strong it was. At the welcoming party attended by dozens of former students， I wrote the couplet “Times have completely changed； our country’s future is boundless！”

In 2004， Dick Pastor， one of the last Flying Tiger pilots still alive， was 86 years old and wheelchair-bound. However， he said he wanted to see his former Chinese friends one last time in Kunming. His doctor would not allow him to travel long distances， but after several months of treatment， he and Naomi， his 90-year-old wife came to China and fulfilled their wish. Ma Shitu who was over 90 and living in Chengdu and myself already 82 years old and living in Beijing both made the trip to Kunming where we had a wonderful reunion after a separation of 60 years. Together we went in search of Daguan Building where we used to meet 60 years before； we visited the site of the former National Southwest Associated University， and talked to present-day students about all our unforgettable experiences. Everywhere we went， we thought of all our old friends， American and Chinese， and though they had all gone to another world， they seemed to be beside us， and we could still hear their voices and laughter.

I hope and I do believe that my“Save Folder” will continue to receive more happy memories. They always make me feel younger.

（Translated by Shi Xiaojing）