Born in Kiangsu Province, she entered on a handicraft career in 1920, when her husband went to Indonesia to teach at a school for overseas Chinese. She began teaching handicrafts at the same school.
In the following forty years in Indonesia, the couple continued to teach, raised two boys and two girls of their own and dedicated themselves to the welfare of the Chinese community. Then, in 1959, the family returned to settle in their homeland.
"I wanted my kids to share the treasures of their Chinese ancestry, so I sent them back to be educated in Taiwan after graduation from high school. They never let me down. Following graduation from National Taiwan University and National Taiwan Normal University, two of the best universities in the Republic of China, they have built their own careers and organized happy families. Just imagine, my eldest boy is already 56 years old, and I can't remember how many grandchildren I have," she said.
She now lives with the family of her youngest daughter, Hsu Tien-chen, on the second floor of a garden villa at Chungho in the Taipei suburbs. "All of my kids respect their parents, Tien-chen in particular. But she always lives in a dilemma: she wants to keep me from knitting any more flowers because of my failing eyesight, but she knows that I love the craft so dearly, and that I would be too lonely having to spend my time doing nothing. Since it isn't convenient for me to travel all the way to Taipei to buy the yarns, she spends her time and money to choose them for me. She says, 'I spend the money; you spend the labor. Together, we will make a more colorful world,'" Mrs. Hsu said, her voice trembling with love.
Pretty flowers bloom on a lifelike branch (top left); A work of love to fill the leisure hours (bottom); "Though my world is so small, I create another spring within it" (top right).
The old lady seemed uneasy about the interview and, picking up a needle and two balls of yarn, began to knit. In less than ten minutes, she had fashioned the petals of a carnation. It seemed incredible that a woman in her 80s would still have such dexterous, swift fingers and, additionally, design her own intricately-crafted seasonal flowers.
"Well, I create these by observing real blooms closely. I try and try until I come up with a life-like copy. It needs patience. Some of the young girls in the neighborhood want to learn from me, but they fail for lack of patience. Young men have too many distractions.
"On second thought, I think I have done nothing of worth for you to report. I love flowers and am crazy about woolen yarns. My own love of hobbies and my training from childhood naturally led me to do something to brighten my old age." She continued:
"I get up early. After seeing my daughter and son-in-law off to work and my two grandchildren off to school, I browse the newspapers to read about current world events. I start my own work at 10a.m. and keep going all the way to dusk, when they all return. If not for my bad eyesight, I would continue to work in the evenings," she said.
Two years ago, she sold some of her handicrafts at a charity sale and donated the earnings to an orphanage. In February, she exhibited wool plum blossoms at an exhibition at the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall in response to an I Love Plum Blossoms theme launched by General Weigo Chiang. This year, on the approach of Mother's Day, she contributed more than 400 flower clusters, including 100 carnations, for a campaign to raise voluntary contributions for the purchase of defensive weapons for the Republic of China.
"I want to donate the money to the Ministry of Defense as a patriotic fund to help purchase the arms we need. Since I have spent about half of my lifetime abroad, I feel a special debt to my country for helping my children receive good educations and lead good lives," she said.
"Together, we will make a more colorful world".
On the wall of the foyer hung the Chinese character fu (blissfulness), fashioned in yellow on a crimson ground and composed of small woolen plum blossoms. "The smaller the flower, the more difficult to make," she noted.
"When fashioning a flower, I first use a thin iron wire to fix the petals, and then decorate the petals with calyx and pistil. The most difficult part is making the leaves. Sometimes, I use real twigs for branches instead of iron wires. I cover them up with dark brown yarn to make the flowers stand out. Finally, I put all the different parts together, which, of course, requires special care." So saying, the old lady suddenly spotted a broken branch.
An expression of agony at once passed over her face. She hobbled to the living room and returned with a handful of yarn. Like a frantic mother taking care of a hurt baby, she tended the twig so hastily that the yarns tangled, several times. "I hope their future owners will love them as I do," she murmured.
She favors a pair of old man's eyeglasses, and wears her grayish hair short. A suit of plain blue hangs loosely on her thin, but healthy, body. "Now that I am so old, I seldom walk any farther than the garden in front. Though my world is so small, I create another spring within it. I am always optimistic. That keeps me healthy and full of hope."
This self-taught busy lady has more to teach than, perhaps, she has ever dreamed of.
“I hope their future owners will love them as I do.”