This morning, I came across several exchanges in a college group about writing. One person mentioned, "After watching the talk on the documentary of Lisbon Maru sinking, I strongly feel that history should be recorded promptly. In the past few days, I’ve been reminiscing about small things from our school days and finding them quite interesting."

Another shared, "I admire the director Fang Li and was deeply moved by the humanity shown by the Chinese people. At the end of each year, I now write a yearly record, reminiscing and making notes about past years." Another said, "I admire you for taking up the pen. I haven’t been able to start writing anything myself."

These exchanges made me reflect on many things. First of all, the sinking of the Lisbon Maru really drives home the brutal reality of war.

For context: see the book The Sinking of the Lisbon Maru: Britain's Forgotten Wartime Tragedy by Tony Banham, 2006. The sinking of the Lisbon Maru occurred during World War II. It was a Japanese cargo ship, used to transport prisoners. On October 1, 1942, it was carrying around 1,800 British prisoners of war (POWs), along with Japanese troops and cargo. While en route from Hong Kong to Japan, the Lisbon Maru was torpedoed by the American submarine USS Grouper off the coast of Zhoushan, China, near Shanghai. The Japanese crew abandoned the ship after it was damaged, but locked the POWs below deck as the ship sank, preventing their escape.

Out of those British POWs on board, many drowned or died when the ship eventually sank the next day. Around 800 survived, thanks to the heroic efforts of Chinese fishermen from nearby islands, who risked their lives to rescue the POWs.

The sinking of the Lisbon Maru fully exposes the unforgiving and dehumanizing nature of war—its inherent chaos leads to tragic mistakes like this. Ironically, this incident demonstrates the indiscriminate destruction and devastating consequences that war brings, which continue to occur in war-torn areas today.

Regarding the cruelty of the Japanese in their treatment of POWs, what can one expect from an enemy in war? War itself is an act of disregard for human life, a systematic killing of humans.

However, amidst this horror, there is a glimmer of hope—the brave Chinese fishermen, who risked their lives to save the British prisoners. Their actions remind us that courage, compassion, and selflessness can shine through even the darkest sinking moments. Even in war, human kindness endures.

Secondly, some members of our social group have already begun writing about our college experiences from the 1970s—a time when China was undergoing drastic changes. Looking back, there is so much worth preserving and recording from those years. As we reflect on these personal memories, we contribute to a larger tapestry of history, ensuring that these experiences, both big and small, are not forgotten

Finally, as the Chinese saying goes, 前事不忘，后事之师 (Qián shì bù wàng, hòu shì zhī shī), meaning:"If past events are not forgotten, they can serve as a guide for the future." It emphasizes the importance of remembering and learning from history to avoid repeating mistakes.

As we share and reflect on both personal memories and historical tragedies like the sinking of the Lisbon Maru, we are reminded of the importance of bearing witness to the past. Whether it’s the horrors of war or the personal stories from our own lives, recording these experiences ensures that future generations can learn from them. In a world that continues to face war, conflict and changes, the act of remembering is a way of creating a more compassionate today and tomorrow, without war.

Today, I want to share two thoughts. First, I recently watched a video about a college student in China, from a modest third-tier county, who constantly demands more money from her struggling parents. Despite their limited means, her insatiable desire for more was really unsettling to watch.

Her attitude reminded me of a relative’s child who said to me when he first came to the U.S., “I’m my parents’ only child. If they don’t spend on me, who else would they spend their money on? The benefit of being an only child is that all of their resources can concentrate on this one child.”

At the time, I thought he was clever, having figured out how to maximize his situation. But in his world, he saw himself as the center, with everyone orbiting around him. It never crossed his mind that his parents might want to spend their hard-earned money on themselves or that, after retirement, they too deserved to enjoy life with their lifetime savings.

In both cases, I believe the parents bear main responsibility for the behavior of their children, since both are young adults. Children are a reflection of their upbringing. As the Chinese saying goes, 栽什么树苗结什么果，撒什么种子开什么花 (Zāi shénme shùmiáo jié shénme guǒ, sǎ shénme zhǒngzi kāi shénme huā): "You reap what you sow; the sapling you plant determines the fruit, and the seeds you scatter decide the flowers that bloom." The way children are raised shapes who they become.

Second, I recently shared a piece of writing with one of my students. Her response touched me: "Thank you for sharing. You organized our conversation so well that I can see things more clearly. You’re someone who finds lessons in everything and guides them toward understanding."

Her words made me reflect on how I’ve developed this ability to organize my thoughts and express them clearly in writing. It all goes back to my early teens when my father encouraged me to write reviews after watching movies or reading books, and to summarize my progress after each semester. His goal was for me to see where I excelled and where I needed to improve. At the time, I didn’t enjoy the exercise, but now, more than five decades later, I realize its lasting value.

Though my father has been gone for over 36 years, his legacy endures -- one of them being the ability to organize my thoughts and put them into words, a skill and a habit that continue to serve me to this day.

The message I want to leave with parents is this: the behaviors and values you cultivate in your children today will shape who they become tomorrow. Whether it’s teaching them a skill or to appreciate the sacrifices of others or instilling the habit of reflection and growth, the seeds you plant now will bear fruit in the future. In both small gestures and lifelong lessons, what may seem like minor efforts today could become the foundation of their character and guide them throughout their lives.

Watching the recent presidential debates has made me think that an age restriction should be mandatory for all politicians, especially for the highest office in the country.

The role of the president is one of the most demanding in public service. It’s not a puppet show controlled by others; it demands boundless energy, with at least 80 hours of work per week, engaging with people from around the world, and addressing complex issues with sharp intellect and wisdom.

After witnessing the chaotic presidential debate this June, where two grandfathers seemed to race toward new lows, both parties should have recognized the toll cognitive decline can take on senior leaders. This should have been a wake-up call to focus on finding younger, more capable candidates.

Yesterday my mother told me, Biden has become so senile he wore a Trump campaign hat. I told her, mom, that’s not true. It’s the AI generated image. After the video chat, I checked BBC and indeed Joe Biden wore a Trump campaign hat. Good thing his days in the White House are soon over.

While Biden wisely stepped down under donor pressure, the Republican grandfather continues to hold on.

There’s an ancient Chinese saying, "廉颇老矣，尚能饭否?" (Lián Pō lǎo yǐ, shàng néng fàn fǒu), which translates to, "General Lian Po is old—can he still eat?" More broadly, it asks whether someone still has the ability to perform despite age, questioning whether experience can truly compensate for the inevitable decline that comes with aging. It also implies resilience, as in, "Though I’m old, I still have strength left."

But can we ask those born in 1946: Despite your age, do you still have the energy and mental sharpness to hold the highest office in the land? Can we count on you to serve with full capacity and a clear mind for four more years, well into your 80s?

As global challenges grow more complex, the demands of leadership only intensify. While experience and wisdom remain invaluable, they should not come at the expense of vitality and mental acuity. When will we embrace a more forward-looking approach, one that gives leaders with the energy and sharpness needed for the highest office their chance? After all, a healthy democracy thrives not just on the strength of its past, but on the promise of its future.

Long ago, I heard from the elders that childbirth could heal a mother’s body—that certain illnesses might disappear after having a baby. The belief suggests that it’s not just the mother who sacrifices for her child; in fact, the baby starts giving back even before it is born.

I shared this belief with my children, suggesting it could be nature’s way of ensuring mothers live long enough to care for their babies. Though they were skeptical, I held on to the idea.

Recently, I decided to fact-check this traditional belief and was surprised to find scientific research that supports it. Last weekend, I shared these findings with my daughter.

Studies now show that fetal-maternal stem cell transfer plays a key role in the maternal healing process. For example, a 2015 study published in Circulation Research found that fetal stem cells may help repair maternal organs, particularly the heart. The research even identified Cdx2 cells as a promising avenue for cardiovascular regenerative therapy.

Furthermore, research in PMC demonstrated that fetal cells migrate into the mother’s body during pregnancy and can remain for decades. These microchimeric fetal cells have been discovered in various maternal tissues, including blood, bone marrow, skin, and liver, suggesting their long-term role in maternal health.

Another 2016 study published in Springer explored the link between fetal cell microchimerism and maternal cancers, noting that these fetal cells can establish lineages within the mother and persist for many years, potentially influencing her health. There’s even a dedicated Wikipedia page on Microchimerism, underscoring the growing interest in this phenomenon.

I also came across intriguing articles showing how children may influence their parents' life expectancy. For example, a study by the Max Planck Institute found that parents often live longer, though the reasons remain unclear. Another study from the University of California suggests that women who have children later in life tend to live longer than those who become mothers at a younger age.

I was surprised to find so much research exploring the possible link between motherhood and a mother’s health and longevity.

When I shared this information with my daughter, I wanted her to see how some traditional Chinese beliefs, often dismissed as mere superstition, carry deep wisdom that modern science is only beginning to explore. This knowledge, passed down through generations, reflects an understanding of life that transcends cultural boundaries. I encouraged her to remain open-minded and appreciate how both Eastern and Western perspectives can offer valuable insights. After all, just because something isn’t yet proven by science doesn’t mean it isn’t true—sometimes, ancient wisdom is simply ahead of its time, waiting for people to explore and understand.