A Eulogy we were told to write at a church retreat in Hawai’i: Reflections on Country, Family, and Charity. If I am to be remembered, let it not be for the ground I stood on, but for the bridges I built. By Johnson Choi, President, HKCHcc 10-27-25

在夏威夷的一次教堂靜修會上，我們被要求寫一篇悼詞：关于家国、家庭与慈善的省思. 若我终将被铭记，愿这铭记不因我立足之地，而因我筑就的桥梁. 作者: 蔡永強, 中國香港夏威夷商會會長, 10-27-25

关于家国：寄居之所还是血脉故土？

三十五年前那个问题” 在座的华人，是否该将美国视为我们的祖国？”其本身便是一个谬问。它暗示着非此即彼的选择，要求单一纯粹的忠诚。

而我这样的人生，从不是在两个家园间做取舍。我的人生，是成为一座 桥梁 。

祖国于我，不只是一本护照或一方土地。它是我梦中萦绕的语言，是塑造我家族观念与荣辱感的文明根基，也是赋予我重塑自由之机遇的国度。中国予我 根脉 ，美国予我 枝展 。我的“祖国”，是二者之间的 那片空间 ，一个翻译与理解共存的地方。

所以，在我的悼词中，愿人们如是说：他/她未曾抛弃任一故园。他/她向美国邻里揭示了中华诗词的深邃，也让中国亲人看到了美式开放的希望。他/她的祖国，是他/她亲手构筑的社群，一幅用双界丝线织就的锦绣。

关于家庭：温室还是森林？

“我们是否像在温室中养育宠物般抚养了孩子？”

温室，是恒温之所，隔绝凄风苦雨，需精心培育。每位父母都是园丁，我们都以爱、音乐课和安全居所，搭建着某种形式的温室。

但一份致伟大父母的悼词，重点不在温室的完美无瑕，而在于孩子是否已准备好面对 森林 。

我仅仅是提供了庇护，还是同样赋予了力量？我的目标不是培育一株完美无瑕、备受庇护的盆景，而是一棵坚韧不拔、扎根深厚的乔木。我期望自己教会了他们感恩庇护之所，更给予了他们步入风雨的勇气，让他们知晓自身的力量。我期望传承下去的，不仅是安全，更是 韧性 ；不仅是知识，更是 智慧 ；不仅是顺从，更是 品格 。

愿人们如是说：他/她的子女未曾活在其荫蔽之下，而是立于其肩头之上。他们深知自己被深爱着，并非作为被雕琢的作品，而是作为活生生的人。这份爱，赋予了他们面对世界的勇气。

关于慈善：卡拉OK还是心灵联结？

“美酒佳肴与卡拉OK，可算慈善？”

就其本身，不算。筹款晚宴并非慈善本身，它只是慈善有时登台演出的 剧场 。杯中之酒并非馈赠，但它所促成的 联结 ，却可以是。

慈善非一时之活动，它是心灵的 朝向 。是刻意运用我们的时间、财富与才华，去托举他人。若那场卡拉OK之夜筹得的款项让一个孩子得以温饱，那么当时的欢愉便是神圣举动的外壳。若那次商务晚餐促成的合作创造了就业，那么当时的牛排便成了履行责任的工具。

真正的问题是：我的人生是否朝向外方？我是否用自身的舒适，为他人创造了舒适？我的人脉构筑，是否超越了个人财富的累积？我在K歌房的歌声，是否给了他人放声歌唱的理由？

愿人们如是说：他/她懂得，真正的慈善非报表上的一个项目，而是贯穿其一生的 脉络 。他/她的给予并非出于盈余，而是出于 共情 。他/她在曾是隔阂之处，筑起了一张 长桌 。

三十五年后，这份答卷已然完成。答案不在当年要求写下的字句里，而在那之后我们度过的人生中——一段成为桥梁而非壁垒的人生；一位滋养坚韧灵魂的园丁，而非看管娇弱宠物的仆从；一个视每首歌、每餐饭为构筑更慷慨世界之机遇的人。

这，才是值得为之倾尽一生的悼文。

On Country: The Foster Home or the Homeland?

The question posed 35 years ago—”For Chinese in the room, should we consider the US foster home our country?”—was the wrong one. It implies a binary choice, a demand for a single allegiance.

A life like mine is not about choosing one home over another. It is about being a bridge.

My country is not just a passport or a plot of land. It is the language in which I dream, the culture that shaped my instincts for family and honor, and also the nation that gave me the freedom to reinvent myself. China gave me my roots; America gave me my branches. My “country” is the space between them, a place of translation and understanding.

So, in my eulogy, let them say: He/She did not abandon one home for another. He/She taught his/her American neighbors the depth of Chinese poetry and showed his/her Chinese family the promise of American openness. His/Her country was the community he/she built, a tapestry woven with threads from both worlds.

On Family: The Greenhouse or the Forest?

“Did we raise our children like pets in a greenhouse?”

The greenhouse is a place of controlled warmth, protection from the harsh wind, and careful cultivation. Every parent is a gardener, and we all build a greenhouse of sorts. We do it with love, music lessons, and a safe home.

But a eulogy for a great parent is not about the perfection of the greenhouse. It’s about whether the child was prepared for the forest.

Did I merely protect, or did I also empower? The goal was not to raise a perfect, sheltered plant, but a resilient, deeply rooted tree. I hope I taught them to appreciate the shelter, but also to have the courage to step into the storm, to know their own strength. I hope I passed on not just safety, but resilience; not just knowledge, but wisdom; not just obedience, but character.

Let them say: His/Her children did not live in his/her shadow, but stood on his/her shoulders. They knew they were deeply loved, not as projects, but as people, and that love gave them the courage to face the world.

On Charity: The Karaoke or the Connection?

“Are wines, dines, and karaoke considered charities?”

By themselves, no. A fundraising gala is not charity; it is the theater in which charity sometimes performs. The wine is not the gift; the connection it facilitates can be.

Charity is not an event; it is an orientation of the heart. It is the intentional use of one’s time, treasure, and talent to lift another. If the karaoke night raised money that clothed a child, then the frivolity was the shell for a sacred act. If the business dinner forged a partnership that created jobs, then the steak was a tool for stewardship.

The real question is: Was my life oriented outward? Did I use my comfort to create comfort for others? Did my networking build more than just my own wealth? Did my song in the karaoke room give someone else a reason to sing?

Let them say: He/She understood that true charity was not a line item on a balance sheet, but a thread woven through his/her entire life. He/She gave not out of surplus, but out of solidarity. He/She built a table where there was once a wall.

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Thirty-five years later, the exercise is complete. The answer is not in the words we were told to write, but in the life we lived afterward. A life of being a bridge, not a border; a gardener of resilient souls, not a keeper of fragile pets; and a person for whom every song, every meal, was an opportunity to build a more generous world.

That is a eulogy worth living for.