Old Photos (Issue 25)

Author: Shandong Huabao Press
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2002-10-01
Features: One of the more meaningful articles in this issue of "Old Photos" is Chen Bida's recollection of his family history, starting from the rise and fall of the Yuan family in the paternal line, the marriage between Yuan Yongxi and Chen Lian, his grandfather's passing, the hardships and separations his parents endured after liberation, and ending with the lives of the survivors after the turmoil, all in over ten thousand words. The text weaves emotion into reason, telling the story of an extraordinary life that was not quite ordinary. Additionally, several short pieces recalling old friends and introducing old military uniforms are also worth reading.
Excerpt: 80 Years Ago, Chengdu TCM Training Institute / Min Su
In 1910, the Sichuan Provincial Police Department established a TCM Training Institute in Chengdu—a short-term training school designed to cultivate and improve the professional skills of TCM practitioners. The school offered two classes: supplementary and training. The campus was located in the city's Zhaozhong Temple (now Zhaozhong Temple Street, east end of Yuhuangguan, west side of Dongjiao Chang). The principal was the Provincial Police Department Director. The supplementary class lasted six months, while the training class lasted one and a half years. This old photograph is a graduation photo of the training class. I was a student at the time, and the photo has been preserved to this day. I still vaguely remember the events of that time, which I will recount as follows: The four seated in the front row are the leaders and two main teachers of the institute, while the two rows behind are the students. The supplementary class has already graduated, and this is the first batch of the training class, with a total of twelve graduates. When admitted to the school, age was not a factor. The supplementary class had more experienced students, while the training class consisted mostly of young knowledge seekers with little or no prior knowledge of TCM. The school offered free admission but required local recommendations and passed an examination. Students were responsible for their own food and lodging. Among the seated in the front row, on the left is Mr. Wang, the Secretary-General of the Police Department, who rarely visited the school. On the left is Director Wang Jiyin, the Provincial Police Chief at the time, who also served as the school's principal. He rarely visited the school, and all administrative matters were handled by the Academic Dean. On the left is Zhang Zichu, the Academic Dean, with a full beard, a renowned physician of his generation. He taught "Qi Yun Huaxie," a subject with profound theories. The training class students had neither a foundation in traditional Chinese classics nor theoretical knowledge, but due to Zhang's kindness, benevolence, and approachability, they deeply respected him. He was a Hanlin scholar during the late Qing Dynasty and had no bureaucratic airs. Unfortunately, little is known about his background, but his name still appears in "Chengdu Tonglan" (compiled by Fu Qucun) as a "prominent internal medicine physician." On the right is Chen Huanguo, a Jinshi scholar during the late Qing Dynasty, who once served as the Education Director of Lujiang County (equivalent to today's county education director). He was proficient in TCM internal medicine, knowledgeable in various fields, and also skilled in surgery, formulating his own herbal formulas. Originally from Fuling, he lived in Chengdu's Liangguan Gongso Street during the late Qing Dynasty, next door to Zhou Xiaohuai. Zhou was the police director during the late Qing Dynasty, and in the early Republican era, during the chaos of the garrison riots, his family was looted. However, Chen, due to his service in healing the sick and helping the neighborhood, was elected by the four surrounding streets (Liangguan Gongso, Fangzheng Street, Shizixiang, and Xichan Temple) as the head of the joint defense group. A round table was set up in his home, called a "gong kou," and the garrison sent armed guards to protect it, ensuring they were not disturbed. As a close relative and neighbor, I knew Chen well and deeply admired his character and medical skills. His study was adorned with a color-printed human anatomy chart from Shanghai, a rare scientific display in the homes of TCM practitioners at the time. Chen, nearing his sixties, had seven or eight young children. For many years, he always participated in the free medical clinics at Wenshu Monastery during the summer, along with over a dozen other renowned TCM practitioners. They offered free consultations from 7 to 9 a.m. every other day, providing free medicine as prescribed by the temple. I was around thirteen or fourteen years old at the time, having just graduated from primary school and considering my future career. Due to my connection with Chen, I accompanied him to the Wenshu Monastery for the free clinics during the summer holidays, helping him write prescriptions to familiarize myself with various conditions and medications, and observing the combinations of herbs used. As a result, I gained more experience and knowledge than many of my peers in the training class. When Chen taught at the school, he often wrote treatment plans for various diseases on the blackboard. He taught the subjects of "Mixed Diseases" and "Medicinal Materials." He cited numerous medical cases, sharing his experiences in treating illnesses, and students took notes on his methods and effective formulas. Later, I saw his notes from a classmate and was amazed at their richness. I benefited greatly from them. The person on the left in the third row is Chen Shengzhi. After liberation, he was over fifty and became a professor at Chengdu TCM College. He came from a family of medicinal herb shops and had served as the school nurse at Chengdu County Girls' High School and as a Chinese language teacher for boys. His younger brother, Chen Liangqing, was a famous painter in Chengdu. There were also two other teachers not in the photo, both renowned figures. One was Shi Junfeng, who taught "Seismic Pulse Response." Shi had once served as a Qing Dynasty Taoyin. His explanations were sharp, and his judgments were clear. When analyzing the "Four Examinations" of TCM diagnosis—observation, auscultation, inquiry, and palpation—he made it quite interesting. The other was He Longju, who was blind at the time and wore glasses, unable to use a chalkboard. He had written his own annotations to Zhang Zhongjing's "Shanghan Lun," which he used as his teaching material. However, few students could afford it at the time, as most were poor scholars. He only awarded copies to a few exemplary students but did not have enough to go around. His memory of "Decoctions Songs" seemed particularly vast, mostly composed by himself. Whenever he discussed medications, he would recite them for the students to take notes. I still remember this impression of him. There were twelve students in the photo, of various ages. Over eighty years have passed, and I can only recall one classmate, besides myself (second row, second from the left), who was the youngest. I estimate that if any of the other classmates are still alive, they must be well into their advanced years. I hope for world peace, national prosperity, technological advancement, and better integration of TCM and Western medicine to heal and save lives. This is the essence of medicine, and I hope no one else misses such an opportunity and fails to achieve their potential as I did! I will add a few more words: Dr. Chen Huanguo is the father of Chen Zhuying, the woman praised by Ba Jin in the article "Seeing Old Photos and Remembering Old Friends" in this journal's ninth issue, a female pioneer in Chengdu during the May Fourth Movement. Unfortunately, Chen Zhuying was labeled an enemy during the Cultural Revolution, forced to clean toilets, and her son died of burns to one leg in a high school in Yunnan, spitting blood to the last.
Excerpt: Tolerating "Opposing Memories" / Feng Ke
Several years ago, Mr. Zhu Xueqin wrote an article titled "Another Kind of Memory," recounting his observations and reflections during a trip to the southern United States. During that journey, Mr. Zhu encountered statues commemorating General Lee, the commander of the Southern Confederacy during the Civil War, in more than one public place. Even in the Southern War Memorial Hall established by the local government, the description of the Civil War portrayed the Southern soldiers as bravely resisting Northern invasion. This left Mr. Zhu deeply astonished. In the United States, the Civil War had long been settled: the North represented justice and progress, while the South stood in contrast. How could Southern Americans so openly present an opposing memory? Strangely, no one seemed to object. Of course, what Mr. Zhu ultimately realized from these events was the diversity of American society and culture. He further pointed out: "A democratic society should begin with diverse memories." When Mr. Zhu's article was first published, I did not see it, but a friend recently introduced it to me. The reason was that the city where I live was undergoing large-scale construction to build a grand museum to commemorate a strategically significant battle during the Chinese Civil War that took place there. One day, as we passed the construction site of the museum, my friend said, "In this museum, we should display the descriptions of the battle from both the Communist and Kuomintang sides so that future generations can better understand this period of history." Her idea struck me as quite unusual. She said it was not her "original creation," and then mentioned Mr. Zhu's article. In reality, the so-called "original creation" was just a casual remark by her, after all, we have different cultures and traditions from the United States. It is well known that some things are difficult to bridge at times. However, given our unique national conditions, even if we cannot, like the Americans, openly display "opposing memories," at the very least, to ( is a Chinese idiom meaning "to restore history") and accommodate and tolerate the existence of opposing memories would still be a wise choice. This obvious wisdom is something we have no reason to easily abandon. "Old Photos" is no exception.