tucked in-- my quilt's story

I am in love with quilts. My one grandma did that to me and that is me tucked into the one she made for us way back when we lived in Oregon. A few years ago I took a beginners class and off to the races I went with no set plan. I did the squares I was taught. Found some of interest. Designed one myself. Ended up with 16 squares which I pieced together. Added a border. folded it up for a summer. bought batting and fabric for the back. put that in a closet. took a class on stained glass. changed my studio from a quilter to a glass worker setting.

One day (a while ago) at church a woman mentioned quilting. I mentioned my project. She may have said it was a sin for it to be going nowhere. time passed, but she wanting me to repent did not forget.

A few days before Christmas I took what I had to her house. With her husband's help we basted the thing together. Finishing a beer and resting our aging bodies we talked about the actual quilting process. I said, "when am I going to do that?"

she said, "you could pay someone to machine quilt it."

It sounded like the best idea, Then she said, "But of course that means you have to take all the stitches from basting out." Oh yes, to be a goof-ass.

The next Sunday in church she said, "have you called the quilter yet?" I said NO.

She had another option. She would be glad and honored to quilt it for me. I said BARTER.

Christmas Eve, I said, "Come to church tomorrow and I will hand it to you."

She said, "Great, I can take it to Ohio with me."

I said, "You are going to take my quilt to Ohio!!!!" She said YES.

Yesterday I asked if she was finished yet and promised I would not ask again.

She has started.

Childhood memories

seen at a quilt show, name of  quilter sadly forgotten
photo by Wayne Stratz

   I have few clear memories of my early years and two that I have, my mom told me never happened. It must have been in dreams that I fell down stairs and that I got off the school bus a stop or two early. My childhood is a bit fuzzy, so I may be wrong on this, but I don't think the Bible was read much in my home. I do remember a Bible, the cover was white. I don't know what the translation was. I do remember a picture book of Bible stories, but again the memory is fuzzy.

We went to St John's Evangelical Lutheran church in Bath, PA. This I know. We sat on the right hand side, a few pews from the front. My grandmother sat in the back row with lady friends. Pappy did not come to the church. I know I learned the classic Bible stories in Sunday School. Went through a confirmation class during the 1970's. The Bible was not a huge part of my life outside of Sunday mornings. But when I returned to it in my 30's. It was familiar.

I remember things now, maybe because of repetition. The end of the service was a hymn. When it was over we would stand in silence as the organist played the tune one more time. I would compose lyrics in my head. After church we would drive a short distance to my grandma's house where Pappy would finish meals with a slice of bread smothered with apple butter. After lunch Mamie would bring out the quilts she was working on that week. I can still see Pappy enjoying good food, and Mamie flinging her quilts out into the air for us to see.