Each time I opened another book proposal, intent on doing what I\u2019d always done\u2014using the skills I\u2019d acquired as a PhD student in Logic and Philosophy of Science to interrogate the core argument\u2014the words on the page blurred together. Those big ideas, which had once helped me make sense of life\u2019s complexity, allowing me to reframe my own story into one of triumph, now felt irrelevant, like I\u2019d opened a book written in a language that had no frame of reference in my world.<\/p>\n
I needed to get back to doing my job. I needed my teeth to stop breaking. I needed to find my footing. But what I really <\/i>needed, I decided, was what I\u2019d provided so many of my authors: a narrative to reframe loss into something that made sense.<\/p>\n
I took over a month off from work. I spent time with my husband and my two young kids, and I wrote.<\/p>\n
I wrote sad essays, which never found their narrative thrust. I wrote letters to my mom, which stumbled through bouts of melancholy before I finally admitted there was no plot. I wrote emails I never sent and emails I did send, but no line I ever cast managed to reel in anything healing.<\/p>\n
So I decided to write something different, a book unlike anything that, at that time, I would have represented. I wrote fantasy.<\/p>\n
The book was replete with metaphors about the healing power of nature and the way that plants adapt to change due to the natural cycles of life and death. It was a perfectly contained story, with every narrative thread tied up in a neat bow, showing how one could use grief as a portal to access true strength.<\/p>\n
At long last, I\u2019d created a narrative that oriented me within my own story.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you thought about therapy?\u201d the doctor asked gently.<\/p>\n
I was overcome with relief. With those two simple words, this chapter of my life was finally over:<\/p>\n
THE END<\/p>\n
A few months later, I went back to the dentist for my bi-annual check. The hygienist told me there were hairline fractures along the tops of my teeth. My teeth also showed signs of excessive wear. He told me to wear my mouthguard not only at night but when I was exercising, too. \u201cAnd please,\u201d he said. \u201cFind a way to manage your stress.\u201d<\/p>\n
I left the office appalled. I\u2019d exorcised my grief through narrative. I\u2019d used that story to rise above the pain. Didn\u2019t this man know that I was officially healed?<\/p>\n
A few months later, I went to the doctor\u2019s for my annual physical. My blood pressure was so high that the nurse had to measure it twice. That was common, she said. It happened to lots of people. I didn\u2019t tell her that it didn\u2019t usually happen to me.<\/p>\n
The doctor, a kindly man I\u2019d always tried to impress by saying things like I often work with physicians on their books<\/i>, asked how I was doing. I told him how I\u2019d lost the last bit of weight I\u2019d been carrying since my baby.<\/p>\n
He congratulated me as he typed into his wall-mounted computer. \u201cAny changes to your medical history?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was then, with that simple but brutal question, that I started to cry.<\/p>\n
Over the span of a few heartbeats, tears swelled my throat, making it difficult to speak.<\/p>\n
Once I got my bearings, I explained that I was only crying because I hadn\u2019t been sleeping well. I hadn\u2019t been sleeping well because my mom had died six months earlier. It was a car crash that wasn\u2019t her fault. Did that count as a change in my medical history? Probably not. But it was worth mentioning, right?<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you thought about therapy?\u201d the doctor asked gently.<\/p>\n
I told him I didn\u2019t like therapy. I rattled off reasons why it didn\u2019t work for me. He handed me scratchy paper towels and explained why it might be worth a try.<\/p>\n
Begrudgingly, I left his office under the care of an automated service that matched me up with a provider and a promise that he\u2019d follow up to see how I was.<\/p>\n
I began to identify with the discomfort of the moment instead of crafting a story to contextualize my grief so I could snap out of it and be somewhere else.<\/p>\n
When I met Quatasia a few weeks later, the first thing I said to her was that I didn\u2019t want to be there. She said something validating and then asked questions in order to get to know me. I tried to impress her with all the things I normally say when I\u2019m feeling insecure\u2014about growing up on reduced-fare lunches and how I started college at 15, about getting into a PhD program and then becoming a literary agent and also an author. Then she said words I\u2019ll never forget.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what I\u2019m hearing is\u2014and I could be wrong about this\u2014that you make up stories so you don\u2019t have to feel your own emotions. Is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt her words like an air bubble in my chest, so uncomfortable that I was struck with hysterical laughter.<\/p>\n
At the end of the session, Quatasia asked: Did I want to make an appointment for next week?<\/p>\n
Over the next six months of therapy, as I told and re-told the story of my life, as I complained about therapists treating humans as metaphors, and talked endlessly about the perils of religion because Quatasia had once mentioned Jesus and I wanted to see if my atheism would make her reject me\u2014I slowly began to lower my shields. I began to name my emotions instead of just intellectualizing them. I began to identify with the discomfort of the moment instead of crafting a story to contextualize my grief so I could snap out of it and be somewhere else.<\/p>\n
Slowly, week by week, I began undoing the vast narrative structures I\u2019d erected in order to avoid vulnerability. In doing so, I started to realize that, contrary to what I\u2019d always believed, my life is not actually a narrative. I am not supposed to show an arc of growth and change over time in order for my life and my experiences to have meaning.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t confuse the way that I communicate my story with the story itself.<\/p>\n
The point of creating a story is not to supplant a person\u2019s experiences but supplement them. Stories are just another way of looking sideways at a thing that can have no satisfiable deconstruction. Even if I might have survived a great many horrible things through the clever use of narrative\u2014and in fact had turned my ability to do so into a career\u2014the ability to transform heartbreak into redemption can be maladaptive if it means I cannot be in the moment with my own pain.<\/p>\n
I still grind my teeth. There are some days I still have a hard time wanting to eat. Likewise, there are still nights when I struggle to sleep because my mom should be living and she isn\u2019t and it is hard<\/i>, sitting with the rock-heavy truth of that.<\/p>\n
Someday I might have a new perspective. Someday I might reframe this whole period of life depending on what I need to glean in that moment. Someday my story might change.<\/p>\n
Every day I keep sitting with the tension of an unresolved narrative is a day I might resurface another memory of my mom. The dynamism of that remembering is what will keep my mom alive in me, like a second pulse, which, more than a clean resolution, is exactly what I\u2019ve been aching for all along\u2014even if I didn\u2019t always know it.<\/p>\n
Because here\u2019s the thing about turning unruly experiences into fixed stories: it doesn\u2019t always give us room to change how we see the events of our lives\u2014nor how we see the ones we love.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m back at work now, slinging books with nearly the same gusto as before my mom died, teasing out complex human experiences into stories that others can comprehend. But I no longer allow the books I agent nor the ones I write to substitute for being in the moment with my real life. I don\u2019t confuse the way that I communicate my story with the story itself.<\/p>\n
I let my own narrative be messy.<\/p>\n
__________________________________<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/siren-says-199x300.jpeg\")
<\/p>\n
Siren Says<\/a>\u00a0by Jennifer Michelle Herrera is available from Putnam.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As a literary agent, I\u2019ve spent years shaping the stories of other people\u2019s grief. There was the Pulitzer-nominated journalist who\u2019d lost her only child when he was seven. And the Black descendent of Thomas Jefferson who, upon her father\u2019s death,<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":31912,"featured_media":276464,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[43071,43069,6,43103,43092],"tags":[1149,745,111781,21883,39565,111782,1532,1341],"class_list":["post-276461","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-craft-and-advice","category-craftandcriticism","category-features","category-memoir","category-newsandculture","tag-craft","tag-grief","tag-jennifer-michelle-herrera","tag-narrative-structure","tag-putnam","tag-siren-says","tag-therapy","tag-writing"],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p5rKFr-19V3","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/right-sidebar-banner-images.png","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/276461","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/31912"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=276461"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/276461\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/276464"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=276461"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=276461"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=276461"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}},{"id":276435,"date":"2026-09-09T05:06:39","date_gmt":"2026-09-09T09:06:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/?p=276435"},"modified":"2026-09-07T09:02:09","modified_gmt":"2026-09-07T13:02:09","slug":"a-legal-history-of-anti-chinese-racism-in-america","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/a-legal-history-of-anti-chinese-racism-in-america\/","title":{"rendered":"A Legal History of Anti-Chinese Racism in America"},"content":{"rendered":" In the history of the Chinese in America, the border has caught our attention and held it. Chinese migrants\u2019 attempts to cross the border, and America\u2019s attempts to stop them, is the story that historians have told and retold. But long before the Chinese faced the first exclusion laws, and long afterward as well, they endured a racial regime within America every day. This book is the history of that racial regime and the lives it touched.<\/p>\n Arriving on California\u2019s shores in the 1850s, Chinese migrants entered a young nation with an old tradition of white dominance. White Californians did not agree on what to do with these \u201cexotic\u201d newcomers, but they were certain that the Chinese did not belong. Set apart by their race, religion, and supposedly slavish tendencies, the Chinese could not be enfolded into the nation as others would be\u2026They had no future in America, or at least that is what lawmakers hoped.<\/p>\n To make it so, western states, territories, and towns enacted anti-Chinese laws. Laws and legal customs regulated the ability of Chinese people to work, operate a business, own property, testify in court, seek education, and form families. For the Chinese, these laws were both more and less than they appeared on paper; more because of the unspoken level of violence that could lie behind them, less because many failed to withstand Chinese resistance\u2026<\/p>\n Chinese resistance in the courts, and outside them, guaranteed that racial laws would not dictate reality.<\/p>\n To uncover the heretofore obscure stories contained in this book, I journeyed to thirty-three archives in California, Oregon, and Washington in search of local legal records\u2026What I found in these archives was a remarkable and practically untapped collection of Chinese legal records, including criminal prosecutions, civil complaints, jail registers, prison records, and mugshots. Of particular note is the existence of Chinese legal testimony, some of which dates from the nineteenth century when such Chinese migrant \u201cvoices\u201d are particularly rare. In the many periods and places where scholars have yet to find Chinese-language accounts, Chinese legal testimony offers an unparalleled view of daily life in the American West. This is especially the case for Chinese women and girls, who left behind virtually no written records.<\/p>\n The view offered by legal testimony, however, is still partially obscured. Most Chinese interactions with the law left no mark, and when they did, their impression was usually faint. Court transcripts that include detailed Chinese testimony are rare, in part because discriminatory testimony laws kept Chinese silent in most court proceedings for decades. And what Chinese testimony survives was mediated by outsiders, because the Chinese usually testified with the help of English-language translators and the legal guidance of their white attorneys. To make matters worse, the Chinese, like all witnesses, came to court to tell stories, not all of which were true…<\/p>\n Still, much can be learned from legal transcripts. Chinese migrants began going to court as soon as they arrived in the 1850s, negotiating the terms of their inclusion as complainants, plaintiffs, witnesses, and defendants. They carried with them knowledge of the Chinese legal system and soon adapted to the American system. Chinese resistance in the courts, and outside them, guaranteed that racial laws would not dictate reality. Scholars have shown that law and society are mutually constituted, that legal rights spill into social relations and flow from them. The terms of conditional inclusion, then, were not simply determined by the rights due to the Chinese under the law; they were dependent on the rights the Chinese managed to exert in daily practice. This cut two ways. Sometimes the Chinese managed to claim powers not granted to them by formal law, but at other times they were denied privileges they were guaranteed by formal law. Legal custom could be gentler than the law, or it could be harsher. Within the gaps between formal law and legal custom lie stories of both arbitrary state force and successful Chinese resistance. More often than not, published court opinions and legal statutes smooth over this messy legal landscape, but trial transcripts can reveal more of the bumps and crevices\u2026<\/p>\n Many, many stories emerge from these sources. Some of these stories are myths, fearful tales about wily \u201cChinamen\u201d and the threats they posed. These narratives provided powerful motivation and justification for racial policing and I have chosen to organize my chapters around these stereotypes. There was the Chinese \u201ccoolie,\u201d who out-competed white labor and sent his profits to China; the Chinese \u201ccriminal,\u201d who deceived his victims and the police; the Chinese \u201calien,\u201d who did not belong but demanded civil rights; the \u201cChinawoman,\u201d who represented the return of slavery; the Chinese \u201cinvader,\u201d who contaminated white neighborhoods; the Chinese \u201cpredator,\u201d who preyed on white girls; and the Chinese \u201cimmigrant,\u201d who threatened to overrun America. Across seven chapters I consider the regulations that emerged from these racial myths and helped to reinforce them.<\/p>\n Each chapter describes racial myths and regulations, but each chapter also includes the stories of real people: Chinese migrants who encountered, accommodated, and refused the preconditions for their inclusion. A few of these narratives may be familiar, because they resulted in landmark court cases. But most Chinese who went to court left little mark on American law, history, or memory. Instead, all that remains is a glimpse of their experiences.<\/p>\n As I sifted through extensive legal archives, I found that the volume of fragmentary stories tested my attention, my empathy, and my willingness to hold contradictions in my mind. You may be tested as well. I have tried to hear each voice above the din, but the cacophony can become overwhelming. I think that is okay. Even when distinct voices blur into noise, the sound can still move us.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n Let us start with Pany Lowe. Perhaps we can see through his eyes. Lowe was not one of the \u201c2700 boy babies of San Francisco Chinatown,\u201d but in many ways his experience resembled theirs. Born in Portland, Oregon, in 1873, Lowe journeyed to China for his education, and then returned to America, moving between major western cities, first San Francisco, then Denver, on to Portland and Seattle. By the time Lowe sat down with a researcher for an interview in 1924, he had acquired a lifetime of knowledge about the racial regime in the American West.<\/p>\n He had learned, for example, that he could go to some restaurants and not others. Once I go into restaurant, they refused to serve me. I no want to cause trouble so I just walk out. Whole lots of things like this happen but I forget. Now when I want to eat I go to chop house<\/i>. No trouble th[ere]<\/i>. He knew some restaurants did not want him, knew chop suey joints were safe, and made the choice to avoid possible humiliation.<\/p>\n Most Chinese who went to court left little mark on American law, history, or memory. Instead, all that remains is a glimpse of their experiences.<\/p>\n He also learned he could go to some barbers and not others. Lots of time people insult me. Once I remember I go barber shop. I sit one hour no ask me what I want. Pretty soon barber say what you want. I tell him I want hair cut, how much? He say $3.00. That make me mad but I make him cut my hair just the same\u2026I never go to white bastard again<\/i>. He knew that price gouging was a form of discrimination, but also that money could sometimes buy access.<\/p>\n Over time he learned that legal action could also open seemingly closed doors. My second wife take my little girl born in this country to have her hair cut at Frederick & Nelson. They say they very sorry, no cut Chinese hair. Oh, my wife get mad. She go see my lawyer tell him about it, Mr. Sullivan. He write letter to Frederick & Nelson. They write letter back and apologize<\/i>. Lowe knew the pain of being refused service, he knew illegal discrimination when he saw it, but he also learned that avoidance was easier than confrontation. All the time I tell my wife keep away from those swell places, only make trouble<\/i>. He knew how to mind racial rules and move on.<\/p>\n He learned he could live in some neighborhoods and not others. When I in Portland I want to live in residential district but they make lots of trouble [if] you try to live outside China town. <\/i>He learned about the trouble from his friends. One friend, he born in this country, he buy $6,000 house in rose city district. White people make hell lot trouble for him. They take it to court. He fight it. Just the same they kick him out. He can own house but no live here<\/i>.<\/p>\n Lowe knew the Chinese were supposed to be equally protected by American law. But he knew that, in practice, the law protected white neighborhoods from Chinese encroachment. I think that very unjust. Those people very uncivilized, have no regard for humanity. So when my friend had so much trouble I decided to stay in China town. Nobody care there<\/i>. He knew some spaces were reserved for white people and chose not to test the line.<\/p>\n After the exclusion laws passed, Lowe also learned the consequences of border control. My people be in this country long time. My grandfather come to this country. When I in China he tell me about work on railroad and work in laundry. Before when he go back they have the check system. Make Chinese carry paper tell who they are. Some inspector today make Chinaman show card. All same dog license. I say who the hell are you. He show me United States Secret man. I tell him I born in this country\u2026He say all right, but he take some other men, lo[c]k them up for a day or two<\/i>. Lowe knew that exclusion made all Chinese residents vulnerable and a missing paper could mean deportation.<\/p>\n Finally, Lowe learned that American law held uncommon sway over his marriage prospects. He could marry some women and not others. Not allowed marry white girl. Not enough American born Chinese to go around. China only place to get wife. Not allowed to bring them back. For Chinaman, very unjust. Not human. Very uncivilized<\/i>. He knew that anti-miscegenation and exclusion laws would forever mark his family. He knew that enduring such indignities was a condition of living in the American West.<\/p>\n Given all this, Pany Lowe knew that he would never belong. When I was young fellow I felt that I American. I no Chinaman. Now I get more sense. I know I never be American, always Chinaman. I no care now anymore<\/i>. He lived at the margins of America society and didn\u2019t know if he should hope for more. Very hard to tell whether people treat better now than before. Some time, I think so, some time I don\u2019t think so<\/i>. He did not know if there had been progress.<\/p>\n Still, he held out hope that white Americans could learn. I hope this survey do lot of good for Chinese people. Make American people realize that Chinese people are humans\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n I think very few American people really know anything about Chinese<\/i>.<\/p>\n _______________________________<\/p>\n From<\/em> John Doe Chinaman: A Forgotten History of Chinese Life Under American Racial Law<\/a> by Beth Lew-Williams. Copyright \u00a9 2026. Available from Harvard University Press. <\/em>John Doe Chinaman has been shortlisted for the 2026 Cundill History Prize.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In the history of the Chinese in America, the border has caught our attention and held it. Chinese migrants\u2019 attempts to cross the border, and America\u2019s attempts to stop them, is the story that historians have told and retold. But<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":31904,"featured_media":276440,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[6,43101,43092],"tags":[111978,21695,112113,88328,60417,6805,112114,6556,72708,104],"class_list":["post-276435","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-features","category-history","category-newsandculture","tag-2026-cundill-history-prize","tag-american-west","tag-beth-lew-williams","tag-chinese-american-history","tag-cundill-history-prize","tag-harvard-university-press","tag-john-doe-chinaman-a-forgotten-history-of-chinese-life-under-american-racial-law","tag-law","tag-legal-history","tag-racism","story-type-cundill-history-prize"],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p5rKFr-19UD","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Chinese_American_Fishermen_b-1.jpg","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/276435","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/31904"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=276435"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/276435\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/276440"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=276435"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=276435"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=276435"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}},{"id":276684,"date":"2026-09-09T04:10:37","date_gmt":"2026-09-09T08:10:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/?p=276684"},"modified":"2026-09-05T14:20:17","modified_gmt":"2026-09-05T18:20:17","slug":"adam-erlich-sachs-on-heinrich-von-kleists-michael-kohlhaas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lithub.com\/adam-erlich-sachs-on-heinrich-von-kleists-michael-kohlhaas\/","title":{"rendered":"Adam Erlich Sachs on Heinrich von Kleist\u2019s Michael Kohlhaas<\/em>"},"content":{"rendered":" The Windham-Campbell Prizes Podcast features a series of conversations with past and present Windham-Campbell Prize<\/a> winners about their favorite books and plays. Hosted by Michael Kelleher.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n For the final episode of our 2026 season, Mike talks with Adam Erlich Sachs (recipient of a 2026 Windham-Campbell Prize for Fiction) about the historical Kantian thicket of Heinrich von Kleist’s Michael Kohlhaas<\/em>, translated by Michael Hoffman.<\/p>\n Adam Ehrlich Sachs<\/strong> is the author of three works of fiction\u2014Gretel and the Great War\u00a0<\/em>(2024),\u00a0The Organs of Sense\u00a0<\/em>(2019), and\u00a0Inherited Disorders: Stories, Parables, and Problems<\/em>\u00a0(2016). The recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship in Literature (2018) and an American Academy in Berlin Fellowship (2019), Sachs lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with his family.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/lithub.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/john-doe-chinaman-199x300.jpg\")
<\/p>\n