“Excuse me- but are you going to Chicago as well?” She asked me in slightly accented Mandarin as I waited in the line for check-in at Shanghai Pudong International Airport.
“Yes.” I said and she immediately looked relieved.
“Come here, Papa, we are in the right place.” She turned around, calling a man with two overly-stuffed and heavy-looking suitcases.
They both looked to be in their early seventies. After some small talk, I learned that they were travelling to the US to visit their daughter. She had gone to the US for grad school and later stayed for work. They seemed to be truly proud of her.
I could not help thinking about my own parents. My dad has been talking about visiting me in Boston throughout my sojourn at home.
Confucius once advised, “Do not travel to distant places when your parents are alive. If the need must arise, have a definite direction.” （父母在，不远游，游必有方）The Chinese culture emphasizes filial piety and the strong connection between parents and children–which sometimes results in criticism of the Chinese parenting style as “overly protective.” In this light, the American mode of “eighteen and out” seems rather ideal for raising independent children who are able to fend for themselves. When I told my PhD colleagues that I was going back to China for one month, one of them asked: “Are you going to stay at your parents’ place?” I was momentarily lost–I never thought this way–my parents’ place is my place. That is the Chinese way.
But I do not want to discuss the merits and drawbacks of different parenting styles in this article. Concepts like Tiger Mom or the helicopter parents are uniquely rooted in the respective cultural context. What touched my heart at Pudong Airport is quite a different thing–I was thinking about the people we left behind in our journey of moving forward, and how they have tried to still be part of our lives.
It was a thirteen-hour flight from Shanghai to Chicago. Not to mention the jet-lag, passing customs and lay-overs. The travelling itself, to and fro between the US and China, has always been a tiring ordeal for me. And I cannot imagine how it might be for a couple in their seventies who knew very little English.
As the “Aging Society” becomes a common phenomenon in gradually modernized East Asian societies, pop sociologists in China have coined the term “empty-nest elders” （空巢老人） to refer to couples at old age whose children live far away from them. Issues of loneliness and lack of emotional support are widely discussed. My mom once half-jokingly said that she has now joined the group. “Do you want me to move back when I finish school?” I asked her. “No.” She said, “I want you to be at places that are best for you, even if they are far away.”
＂不好意思，你是不是也是去芝加哥的？＂她用略带口音的普通话问我。
那是上海浦东机场，我正排队等着登机。”是“——听我这么说，她似乎立刻松了一口气。＂孩子爸，就是这里，没错，没错。＂她冲一位拖着两个又重又满的行李箱的男人喊道。看上去，他们俩大概都七十多岁了吧。聊天中，他们不无骄傲地告诉我，这次去美国是为了探访女儿。本科毕业后，她就去了美国深造，又在美国找到了工作，便这样留下了。
他们的女儿，让我想起自己——这次回家，短短一个月，爸爸一直在设想今年年底来波士顿看我的事情。
子曰：父母在，不远游，游必有方。中国文化重孝，强调父母与子女间不可扭断的血脉连结。因此，中国父母的教育模式也常被批评为对孩子保护过度，不利于独立成长。而在这样的语境下，美国家庭＂十八岁自力更生＂的模式便被视为了更能够培养出自主的孩子。聊天时说起我的回国计划，我在哈佛的同学问我，＂你回去是去你父母家住么？＂——这个问题竟让我瞬间怔忡：我父母家就是我的家啊。我从未想过，这其中所有的分别。
然而我想讨论的，并不是不同教育模式的比较：无论是”虎妈“还是”直升机家长“，都扎根于各自的文化语境，有其利弊。在上海浦东机场，触动我的并非这些宏大与专业的讨论，而是某种近乎微婉的情绪：我所想到的，是那些被我们留在身后的人——在我们一路向前的过程中，他们又是如何在我们身后默默遥望，并试图企及。
从上海到芝加哥，飞行时间大约十三小时。再加上转机，时差，过海关——我尚且常常觉得疲惫，更何况两位七十多岁，连英语都说不好的老人？
东亚社会老龄化趋势日益明显，社会家因此造出”空巢老人“一词，指代孩子离开家后的老年夫妇。分析指出，这一群体面临的问题在于：孩子离家后的孤独与情感支持的缺失。本科离家去北京念书后，妈妈就曾经半开玩笑地对我说，她如今也算是这群体的一员了。
＂那我毕业后就搬回南京陪你好不好？＂
＂不好。“，她立刻说，”我想你去你想去的地方。就算是远了点也没关系。＂
而一路向前，又如何守护过往——与这过往中的人与事？这才是真正的问题。