A Good Year

Only shy of three months have passed in 2023. Why do I call it a good year already?

Because, simply, quite a few good news poured in during those wintry months, making me really happy. On Jan. 20, I got the IAS Fellowship at Princeton, allowing me to spend a semester there this fall to further pursue my second project on aromatics. Even better, Igel and Lulu will be able to join me too, taking our first family excursion outside Buffalo. I guess Princeton is not a bad place to start Lulu's early education!

On Mar. 3, Igel and I finally received our green cards. It has been a long and arduous journey, taking us more than 2 years for the application per se, and many more years of mental stress. With perseverance and the support of people near and afar, finally I can put this frustrating matter behind. This means that Igel and I can do international travels more easily, a prospect we are very excited about.

Finally, something unexpected happened recently. I went to Boston to attend the AAS last week. It was my first trip since Lulu was born, and I had a good, though a bit overwhelming experience there. After I came back, I tested Covid positive, unfortunately, and had to sustain my childcare duty—poor Igel—and isolate myself. While doing that, I opened my email on Monday (Mar. 20), and found one titled "Congratulations!" I immediately thought this is about the other fellowship I applied last year. But it is not. It is from the president of the AAHM, informing me that my book has been awarded 2023 William Welch Medal. This is totally unexpected and a too-good-to-be-true kind of surprise. My book has been published for almost two years, and I thought that I have run out of luck for awards. Plus, the Welch Medal is often given to scholars working on modern, Western history of medicine. My book is about medicine in medieval China, so I thought my chance is quite slim. But here you go, the award committee has decided to give it to me. I am still deeply in disbelief.

Maybe I shouldn't make a big deal out of it. It is after all an award in a specialized field, namely, the history of medicine. But it does means a lot to me. Above all, it affirms the value of my book and boost my confidence as a good scholar. As Igel told me astutely, not every good book can win an award, but a book that wins an award can never be a bad book. I thought that my book is OK, a typical first book with shortcomings. Due to the time constraint, I wasn't able to make it to the degree of perfection as I wanted especially for the Introduction. But the committee must have found something valuable in my book—none of the five members are a China specialist—maybe it is its accessibility, or its message to historians of medicine, or its focus on non-Western history. I have no idea.

I have to say that, quoting Daniel Kwan (see below), my imposter syndrome is all-time high now. Although this is an award in a specialized field, many prominent scholars, including some of the pioneering figures in the field, have won the award. That long list includes my two mentors Hisa and Katy, and several China specialists (Ruth, Hsiang-lin, and Nicole). I believe that I am the first scholar from mainland China who has won this award. Maybe the pool of contenders this year is weak, or they wanted to give it to a pre-modernist, or to a scholar of color. But I should stop thinking this way, and really start pondering what this truly means to me.

It means a few things. First, it recognizes my book as a valuable one in the history of medicine. Every book targets particular audience, and mine aims for historians of medicine, including many working on Western medicine, rather than Chinese historians. People will learn more things about medicine from my book than about China. I always have qualms about this: Did I distort Chinese history to fit the modern paradigms? Did I write my book for Western audience who knows little about China? But I think I did a nuanced enough analysis that has made the Chinese history complex enough without losing the big picture of delivering a central message to my audience, which is, the context, rather than the essence, matters for any medicinal substance, Chinese or Western. That message must have somewhat resonated with the award committee.

Second, I should not self-marginalize my field of medieval Chinese history. True, it is a small field with scant sources and less obvious contemporary relevance. But it is a valuable field, still a lot to do, and if I am able to find, there are many meaningful connections to the modern world. I should continue doing what I am good at and push the field forward.

Third, it is reassuring that the studies of non-Western societies have gained increasing attention over the past years. In this respect, the recognition of my book is also the recognition of this fast-developing direction of the field. I should embrace this opportunity and make an effort to contribute further in that direction.

Perhaps by serendipity, a couple of weeks ago EEAO won the Oscar Award. Both Igel and I were very pleased to see a film produced by an Asian team and with many Asian actors won the award. It was a revelatory moment for us, making us think what kind of life and opportunities Lulu will have when she grows up. In some sense, my feeling of winning the Welch Medal is similar to that of Danial Kwan, the co-director of the movie: an abrupt, unexpected success, and a sense of imposter syndrome. As I joked to Igel, this might be the highest point of my career. On the other hand, I should also remain sober and calm. After all, it is just an award in a specialized field. In the broader world, it doesn't matter much. I am glad that my book is recognized, which perhaps can enhance my reputation as a good historian of medicine, but by the end of the day, it is the inner force that has pushed me forward over the past decades. It does give me some reassurance that after the switch of my career two decades ago, I can not only make a living by doing history but also become good at it. How rewarding is that feeling!

I was invited to go to the AAHM Annual Meeting held this May in none other than Ann Arbor to attend the Award Ceremony. As fate dictates, I contemplated and started the change of my career from that lovely place. Now, 18 years after, I am back, with a sense of fulfillment and closure, but never complacency. If such things can be called an achievement, it is only because I am standing on the shoulders of giants. And last but not least, Igel's support and encouragement in the past six years have been pivotal. That story deserves a full separate post.

I tend to think Lulu has brought me lots of luck since she was born. By any standard, this has been a very good year for me. I don't expect to hear more good news in the rest of the year, as this is already way out of my expectation. Right now, what I need to remind myself constantly is to remain humble, stand on the ground, and always be true to myself and kind to others. It is a moment that gives me confidence and hope that by good effort I can do my work well and hopefully make the world a bit better.

Birthday Thoughts

Today, I am turning 46.

It is also my first birthday being a dad. That is incredible in retrospect.

Six years ago, on my 40th birthday, I reflected on my career and personal life. I set up two goals: to get tenure in six years and to find a partner in the following decade.

Gladly, I achieved the first goal last year. Now looking back, I found myself being conservative for the second one. Shortly after I wrote those words, I met Igel in Toronto (Mar. 2017), got engaged two years later (Mar. 2019), got married a year after (Aug. 2020), and now, amazingly, just became a dad (Dec. 2022). In less than six years, I have finished a home run! 

Still, given my extraordinarily long student life and the postponement of personal matters as a result, I am an old father. Hopefully, with the wisdom accumulated in the past decades, I can do the job fine.

As Lumiere enters our world, life will change dramatically. Watching her grow is amazing, and we also hope that in the process she will help us grow. At least for me, I want to remain true to myself, but also getting transformed by the expanded family, to be less self-absorbed, to better balance life and work, to find new meanings, and perhaps hope, in this troubled world.

On parenting, a colleague assured us: "There is no better place to be."

Usually at my age, mid-age crisis kicks in. There are certainly many challenges ahead: raising Lumiere, further developing my career, taking care of parents, dealing with endless logistics, among others. There is no set path for everyone. But as long as I remain open and honest, and willing to seek help when necessary, I think I should be OK.

All joy and no fun! That may be the paradox of parenting. It is a unique experience of co-growing with another person. It is also quite different from career goals: I can set up a concrete goal to try to accomplish it in certain years. But parenting is different. There is no set time limit; it is a life-long learning experience. To recognize that, I would say, is a powerful way of shifting my perspective on life.

With that in mind, I am not setting up any concrete goals here. I want Lumiere to be healthy and happy on her long life journey. It is my pleasure to take this journey with her, to explore the world together and to find the inner truths of myself.

New Year Resolutions (2023)

Another year has passed. Now we are entering 2023!

2022 was a transitional year for me. In Sept., I became an Associate Professor officially. Since tenure promotion was such a long process, the tail of it was not as exciting as the moment in 2021, when I got my first book published. It was an important confirmation nonetheless, which means that I can relax a bit and think about my future career goals and other dimensions of my life.

Life was as busy as usual. Without the tenure pressure, everything seems to slow down, and I have to admit that I didn't get as much done as what I listed in 2022 resolutions. It is also about the change of mode for my research. Instead of putting everything aside and just focusing on work, it is better, and more sustainable, to have a routine work schedule, properly balanced with other things in life. Still learning that...

There was also a major change in my life that dwarfed everything else in 2022: I became a dad. As writing of it now, I still couldn't believe it. It started in Hawaii in March, and Igel and I believed that we were blessed by a goddess residing in the Mount Ka'ala, in which we hiked. Afterwards, we paid numerous visits to the OB office, MFM, and blood clinics to assure the proper progression of Igel's pregnancy, which consumed much of our time. In retrospect, those visits have become nice memories of the bonding between me, Igel, and the baby. The delivery itself, which just happened less than two weeks ago (Dec. 20), was quicker and smoother than we expected, as we were supported a group of nice, genuine, and capable nurses and doctors. In the blink of an eye, the baby was out, which has changed my life permanently!

Two days after our baby was born, a historical blizzard hit Buffalo, taking the lives of close to 40 people. We gave our baby the name Lumiere, hoping that she can bring some light and warmth to this tough winter, and soften the firm realities of this world. 2022 was not a good year for the world. Russian's invasion of Ukraine in March, and the ensuing war have claimed numerous lives and cast an ominous shadow on the stability and peace of the world. Chinese government's draconian policy on Covid control for most of the year, followed by an astonishing quick abolishment of that policy in the last month of the year, has led to disastrous consequences, making this winter particularly harsh, if not cruel, for many. After more than three years of the pandemic, it doesn't seem to cease soon in China.

Locally, Buffalo also suffered two traumatic hits in 2022. The TOPS killing of 13 Blacks in May and the historical snowstorm that ravaged the city around Christmas. Authoritarianism, racism, climate change—2022 renders a sobering reminder that this world is far from being fine. As a historian, the relentless realities of this troubling world only confirmed that history is not always in progress.

In this bleak moment of Buffalo, and the world, we welcomed Lumiere, who gives us a flickering light of hope. We had a very good experience during and after the delivery—many colleagues and friends sent good wishes, gifts, and prepared food for us. It is precisely such human kindness, bonding, and solidarity that offer us hope during the longest nights of the winter.   

My resolutions for the new year will be a moving target as our little boss will decide many things for us. So here is a tentative one:

1) On work: Get some development for my second book project, including a) send the review article out soon; b) finish the camphor paper and the edited volume. Meanwhile, get the Chinese translation of my first book done. 

2) On fellowships: I hope I can get one this year (CCKF or IAS at Princeton). If not, give another try this fall.

3) My post-sabbatical leave is coming (2023-24). Make the full use of it, coordinated with childcare. I hope I can spend some time in China. We will see how it goes.

4) Spend time with Lumiere. This will consume lots of my time, happily. It is also a way to support Igel, so she can get more of her work done.

5) Have a new routine, coordinated with Lumiere's schedule. Don't stretch yourself too much. High efficiency during confined hours is the key.

About twenty years ago, when I was reading Ray Huang's autobiography, I saw a picture of him working in his study, piled with books, with his little child sleeping nearby. Now I am doing the same, at a relatively old age, just like Huang! To juggle between work and childcare, that is not an easy task, but a good challenge to take. Good luck!