Dear Ornament Reader,

One of us has just lost his beloved remaining parent. Mother, who provided such a warm, protective arc over my sixty-five years, is now gone. There are few ways to cope with the loss of someone so dear, but to honor and to recognize their achievements are good first steps. Mary Man-li Liu was barely five-feet tall but she was a giant of determination and strength. Born in 1908, her life spanned two centuries, from Imperial China, where her great-grandfather held the high post in charge of all Imperial examinations (in dynastic China, all public offices were dependent upon passing such examinations), to this year 2003, just short of her ninety-fifth birthday. In a time when women still had to undergo bound feet (which her great-grandfather forbade), she was able to persuade her parents to let her go to England to study art, but she met my father on the boat, thus ending her chance of a formal art education.

In her twenties, she began an active life as the wife of the mayor of Hankow, a major city; then minister to Germany; and finally ambassador to Italy, before the beginning of hostilities with Japan forced the family back to China. Stranded in Japanese-occupied China, she lead her five children on an epic journey of eighty-seven days, from Shanghai to Chungking, the wartime capital of free China, to join her husband. At the end of World War II, with the impending occupation of the country by the Communists, she took her children to America to give them an education and the benefits of new opportunities, and a free existence. Having to single-handedly cope with life as an immigrant and never having worked, she struggled to find an occupation, finally becoming a seamstress for firms catering to those who wanted the best. Her handiwork graces the Metropolitan Museum of Art. While never able to practice art, she drew well and was extraordinary in textile skills, and she continued to visit art museums, like the Metropolitan, into her nineties. Her children’s diverse occupations ranged from engineering, law and science to art, film and language, and all were more than capable in studio art, without much formal training.

Life is an infinite journey, to be traveled as fully as possible. When we depart this world we must hope to have tread lightly on this lovely blue planet, yet leaving a deep impression on its beautiful vitality by our better human selves, engraved with the love and respect we give to our children, parents and partners, and to our friends and fellow citizens of Earth. These qualities, just one of the gifts my mother left me and my family, and those who treasured her friendship, help sustain me on my own life’s journey.