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One of my first "quilt memories" goes back to my early childhood.
I grew up in Washington state on the colder eastern side of the Cascade
mountains. Many times throghout my childhood the same old quilt appeared.
I remember seeing it at my Grandmother's house. It was a heavy old thing;
probably had a heavy old wool blanket inside for batting. It wasn't real
attractive. In fact, I thought it was down right ugly! It was constructed
mostly of blocks made from 2 inch squares set 5 across and 5 down.
Obviously, it was not expertly sewn because these blocks somehow ended
up to be 9 inch blocks. These were two color blocks, each one being made
of a different comination of fabrics which I also felt qualified as ugly.
Although the colors were nicely contrasting and carefully selected from
someone's precious scrap bag, I found the old fashioned 1920's prints
quite unattractive. I especially disliked the print picked out for the
backing. It was a stylized carnation in shades of burgandy, orange, and
blue. Across one end of the quilt was a row of Churn Dash blocks which
had the appearence of being made by a different hand as they were much
more accurately pieced.
I recall this quilt being used in the backseat of our car as we traveled
across the mountains on long car trips. During hunting season, it appeared
on the beds in the old cabin we stayed in as Mom and Grandma fixed a hot
meal for Dad and Grandpa when they returned from hunting. I remember seeing
that old quilt in a trunk or closet now and then throughout the years
and I clearly remember always having a rather low opinion of the old thing.
Several years ago, I developed a passion for quilting and my interest
in old quilts increased. I was very suprised and pleased when my parents
came to visit and brought me some of the family quilts. I felt privledged
and honored to be given a lovely silk quilt and a beautifully stitched
nine-patch quilt made by my Great-Grandmothers.
Then Mom unwrapped yet another quilt and there it was! That ugly old
quilt! Oh my, how could I pretend to be excited about something I had
always thought was so unattractive! I mumbled something about the quilt
and my mom said, "You know who made this quilt, don't you?"
Well, I had always supposed my Grandmother made it. But I was wrong.
Mom said, "Honey, your dad made this quilt when he was a little
boy." I couldn't believe it. My dad was a cowboy; a tree faller;
and always my hero, but certainly not a quiltmaker! Then Mom and Dad told
me the story. Dad had been in a schoolbus accident when he was about 12
years old. One of his legs was injured and he was unable to attend school
for several weeks. He carried the scar on his leg all of his life. His
mother had put him to work at her treadle machine during those weeks of
recovery sewing patches for that quilt.
I have often wondered if she did that to keep a rambuctious recuperating
boy out of her hair or if she thought that treadle machine would provide
good therapy for his healing leg. I suppose it may have been a little
of both.
Needless to say, that old ugly thing quickly became the most precious
quilt I will ever own. I count it among my most treasured possesions and
I display it proudly several times thoughout the year. The rest of the
time it is safely stored away, but within easy reach if my home should
ever have to be evacuated suddenly, for it is the first thing I would
attempt to rescue.
There are so many hundreds and thousands of outstanding, beautiful quilts
in this world. I am constantly amazed at the creations of the many talented
artists and quiltmakers whose works I have had seen at shows, in books,
or in documentaries, but none will ever be as beautiful in my eyes as
"that ugly old thing."
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