2025 Hsiu-Lan Chang Award
Annie Shi, 2025 Hsiu-Lan Chang Award winner, receives award from Giles Li, essay contest co-chair
Click on the image above to view the recording of Annie reading her essay.
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The Birthday Notebook
by Annie Shi
The notebook page is crinkled at the edges, browned from years of sitting on a shelf. At the top the characters 生日 - birthday- are written in faded blue ink. Below the green margin line, rows of Chinese characters fill the space, squeezed between the dotted lines in my grandmother's careful handwriting. Each entry begins with a name, followed by an approximate birth date and times. Some are crossed out, others scrawled over. The paper bears imprints of writing from the other side, the pressure of each stroke revealing the weight of my grandmother's hand. despite its imperfections, the notebook holds something priceless: a record of our family's birthdays, spanning four generations, preserved for my grandmother's memory.
My father remembers my grandmother meticulously recording dates in the notebook's pages for as long as he can remember. At first, it was only the birthdays of her siblings and children. As the family grew, entries for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren filled the pages. To others, this aged notebook might seem meaningless. But to me, it is irreplaceable, one of the few tangible records of my family history. More than that, the notebook represents as a second-generation immigrant: the ability to find value in experiences and expressions, rather than material possessions.
Unlike some families who pass down heirlooms of gold and fine china, my family's history fits in between the pages of a worn notebook. When my dad immigrated to the US from China, he brought little with him. Growing up in poverty, he had no expensive jewelry. furniture, or tangible wealth to inherit. Instead, the only thing that came with him were the stories he carried and the values of resilience, sacrifice, and family that his parents instilled in him. In the absence of material possessions, my family taught me that the most meaningful things in life are not things at all. I learned the importance of finding richness in experiences, relationships and connections across all areas of life.
Growing up as a child of Asian immigrants, I often felt caught between two worlds: the American culture that constantly surrounded me and the Chinese heritage that defined my family. During rare visits to China, I struggled to insert myself into conversations, my Chinese faltering under the weight of unfamiliar phrases and rapid dialects. Back home, surrounded by peers who spoke of family reunions and heirlooms that had been in their families for generations, I felt like an outsider, disconnected from my own relatives living an ocean away.
But my grandmother's notebook reminds me that my identity is not confined to one place or culture, it is a combination of histories shaped by my ancestors who came before me. While some of my classmates may own artifacts that tell stories of grand expeditions or historical milestones, I carry something just as powerful: the knowledge that my family's strength lies not in expensive treasures, but deeply rooted connections that carried us across oceans and generations.
This perspective has shaped how I navigate challenges and define success. In a society that often equates wealth with material possessions, I have learned to see value differently. I don't measure achievement by what I own, but by the relationships I build and the impact I leave behind. The value of connection that my family has passed down is something that has guided me as I grew older, helping me both reflect on the past and plan for the future.
Someday, I hope to carry on the tradition of recording birthdays on the pages of my grandmother's birthday notebook. It's easy to think of an heirloom as something of monetary value, but for me, this notebook holds something far greater: the lessons of my family's journey and the superpower it has given me. More than just a record of names and dates, it is a testament to the values that define me and a reminder that our true wealth is not in what we own, but in the connections we foster and the stories we pass down.
My father remembers my grandmother meticulously recording dates in the notebook's pages for as long as he can remember. At first, it was only the birthdays of her siblings and children. As the family grew, entries for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren filled the pages. To others, this aged notebook might seem meaningless. But to me, it is irreplaceable, one of the few tangible records of my family history. More than that, the notebook represents as a second-generation immigrant: the ability to find value in experiences and expressions, rather than material possessions.
Unlike some families who pass down heirlooms of gold and fine china, my family's history fits in between the pages of a worn notebook. When my dad immigrated to the US from China, he brought little with him. Growing up in poverty, he had no expensive jewelry. furniture, or tangible wealth to inherit. Instead, the only thing that came with him were the stories he carried and the values of resilience, sacrifice, and family that his parents instilled in him. In the absence of material possessions, my family taught me that the most meaningful things in life are not things at all. I learned the importance of finding richness in experiences, relationships and connections across all areas of life.
Growing up as a child of Asian immigrants, I often felt caught between two worlds: the American culture that constantly surrounded me and the Chinese heritage that defined my family. During rare visits to China, I struggled to insert myself into conversations, my Chinese faltering under the weight of unfamiliar phrases and rapid dialects. Back home, surrounded by peers who spoke of family reunions and heirlooms that had been in their families for generations, I felt like an outsider, disconnected from my own relatives living an ocean away.
But my grandmother's notebook reminds me that my identity is not confined to one place or culture, it is a combination of histories shaped by my ancestors who came before me. While some of my classmates may own artifacts that tell stories of grand expeditions or historical milestones, I carry something just as powerful: the knowledge that my family's strength lies not in expensive treasures, but deeply rooted connections that carried us across oceans and generations.
This perspective has shaped how I navigate challenges and define success. In a society that often equates wealth with material possessions, I have learned to see value differently. I don't measure achievement by what I own, but by the relationships I build and the impact I leave behind. The value of connection that my family has passed down is something that has guided me as I grew older, helping me both reflect on the past and plan for the future.
Someday, I hope to carry on the tradition of recording birthdays on the pages of my grandmother's birthday notebook. It's easy to think of an heirloom as something of monetary value, but for me, this notebook holds something far greater: the lessons of my family's journey and the superpower it has given me. More than just a record of names and dates, it is a testament to the values that define me and a reminder that our true wealth is not in what we own, but in the connections we foster and the stories we pass down.
