It was on taken on Dongjiadu Lu (Lu is road), which I sometimes would refer to as Damnjiadulu.
Despite its magnetism, a trip to Dongjiadu Lu could stir some aggravation.
There was a fabric market there with TONS of fabric at very reasonable prices. The prices were even more reasonable once you learned what the fair price was and insisted upon it; turning on a dime and walking away until you heard “okay, okay, okay” (said more like this, “kaykaykay”).
This particular day was very cold, and the woman in the photograph, at left, was busily stitching away at her treadle machine; set up on the street. I took a full length photograph of her, but I like this cropped version better, because it focuses more on the bandaged fingers and fingerless gloves.
The photograph has graced a surface in my studio ever since, to remind me how fortunate I am on days I momentarily lose sight of that fact. It sits with a photograph taken soon after I met my husband, a framed Chinese papercut (a gift from someone very special that includes the character for luck and 2 fish), and a Vietnamese water puppet I purchased in Hanoi. I see the arrangement every time I am in my studio, which is most every day. I remember exactly how I felt that day I saw the beautiful woman on Dongjiadu Lu, who more than likely lives in one room with her extended family.
have taken for granted in years past. When his position was eliminated earlier this year, he tackled
the situation without anger, fear, or hopelessness. He had a job within a month; unfortunately it is
in New York, an eleven hour drive away. I am very proud of him, and very happy that he chose me
to love. I hope the woman at the sewing machine has someone who loves her just as much.
Here’s to giving thanks for all our blessings.