Monday, June 21, 2004
JANUARY 1964....
January in the Kansas City suburbs always came in with a vengeance. It’s almost like Mother Nature knew you had turned the calendar. It was a tough month for mailmen who had to walk house to house over their 20-mile route. Usually their path in the snow from one house to the next was the only break in the snow other than car tracks in the street. It was always a month I enjoyed, however. Although I was driving the kids to the Med Center in the mornings I had time to enjoy my handwork before going back to pick them up in the afternoons. January was when I tried to finish needlework left-overs and start something new.
I had a passion for quilts. I had loved them all my life and knew no one in the family would ever make me one…….they never made them for themselves. My mother loved them too but didn’t like the sewing machine. Although she took a sewing class in high-school she didn’t like anything about sewing and aunt Mary (her younger sister) hated doing dishes….so they traded work. Mom cheerfully did dishes while aunt Mary happily sewed her assignments. (The girls were both in the same classes all the way through school as there was little age difference and mom was held back a year for aunt Mary to walk with.)
Crafting and handmade stitchery was just coming into vogue again in 1964. Re-capturing our heritage by returning to the art of needlework was in all the magazines and inspired everyone to “make” something. Rosalie and I often carried our projects back and forth across the street to do our stitching together. It was a rich time to share our days together and create something beautiful. Rosalie was the only friend I had who loved working with her hands as I did. Our kids usually played together and we were like two young hens with our chicks close by.
Since mom preferred handwork, I talked her into piecing a quilt by hand. I helped her choose material, she had a pattern she liked, I helped her cut and she started the quilt. She had most of her blocks pieced but on one of their visit’s that past year, she brought it all to me….bag and baggage….and said I could have it if I would just finish it. She didn’t enjoy it like she did her embroidery and she didn’t like such a big project. I had been piecing a quilt of my own for some time. It was made from the scraps of Becky’s dresses from the cradle up. Granny Bond had talked ME into making a Grandmother’s Flower Garden quilt out of the small pieces. Even with my perseverance I had put it back several times as the completion looked insurmountable. Now I had two quilts to piece.
And so January (1964) it was finally ready to go to a lady who did machine quilting. When she called me to pick it up the charges were $18.50.… I couldn’t believe it would be that much. I know it seems cheap now but in 1965 it was a bunch. George Sr. was aggravated with me because I hadn’t bothered to ask at the time how much it would be. It caught us short after the holidays and at the time I was in bed with strep throat. He had to cash a U.S. Savings Bond to get it and needless to say wasn’t too happy. Still, he picked it up on his way home from work.
I remember him bringing the quilt into the bedroom and I opened the bag to see how it looked. Words cannot describe the love and respect I had for that quilt. It had been a large undertaking for mom and me both and to see how it turned out was just the boost I needed to get serious with the other one. It took me a total of eight years to finish Becky’s school dress quilt but I did and it’s still fun to look at the pieces in the quilt and identify the dress and the year she wore them to school. Today Becky has the quilt and though it is quite old it is still a treasure to us both.
Working on quilts has been a passion ever since. The patchwork ones are my favorites….and working them into a proper pattern to display their true beauty is an art-form. Over the years I have made many quilts but I only totally did one from beginning to end by hand. It was after I quilted one for my mother and proved to myself I was capable of finishing the project. It is a “star” pattern and made for my name (Esther) which means….a star.
When dad died suddenly in 1974 my mother was lost. Their marriage was like Ronald and Nancy Reagan. They were never apart and much of the time my brother and I felt like there was a relationship between them that even we didn’t enter into. No matter what dad did or didn’t do mom was the buffer. Dad never crossed a certain line with mom no matter how angry because of the bond they had. They were each other’s first loves and married at twenty and twenty-one. The years after served to draw them ever closer.
Mom was still grieving years after dad was gone. I tried many diversions hoping she could find her zest for living again. Finally I hit upon her piecing a quilt once more. She admired the ones I was always working on and said the only pattern she would consider doing was the Grandmother’s Flower Garden. Encouraged, I suggested a larger hexagon as it would be easier for her to manage. She agreed and again I cut pieces for her. She had many happy hours working on it and eventually we finished it. That particular pattern is still one of my favorites.....
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
I had a passion for quilts. I had loved them all my life and knew no one in the family would ever make me one…….they never made them for themselves. My mother loved them too but didn’t like the sewing machine. Although she took a sewing class in high-school she didn’t like anything about sewing and aunt Mary (her younger sister) hated doing dishes….so they traded work. Mom cheerfully did dishes while aunt Mary happily sewed her assignments. (The girls were both in the same classes all the way through school as there was little age difference and mom was held back a year for aunt Mary to walk with.)
Crafting and handmade stitchery was just coming into vogue again in 1964. Re-capturing our heritage by returning to the art of needlework was in all the magazines and inspired everyone to “make” something. Rosalie and I often carried our projects back and forth across the street to do our stitching together. It was a rich time to share our days together and create something beautiful. Rosalie was the only friend I had who loved working with her hands as I did. Our kids usually played together and we were like two young hens with our chicks close by.
Since mom preferred handwork, I talked her into piecing a quilt by hand. I helped her choose material, she had a pattern she liked, I helped her cut and she started the quilt. She had most of her blocks pieced but on one of their visit’s that past year, she brought it all to me….bag and baggage….and said I could have it if I would just finish it. She didn’t enjoy it like she did her embroidery and she didn’t like such a big project. I had been piecing a quilt of my own for some time. It was made from the scraps of Becky’s dresses from the cradle up. Granny Bond had talked ME into making a Grandmother’s Flower Garden quilt out of the small pieces. Even with my perseverance I had put it back several times as the completion looked insurmountable. Now I had two quilts to piece.
And so January (1964) it was finally ready to go to a lady who did machine quilting. When she called me to pick it up the charges were $18.50.… I couldn’t believe it would be that much. I know it seems cheap now but in 1965 it was a bunch. George Sr. was aggravated with me because I hadn’t bothered to ask at the time how much it would be. It caught us short after the holidays and at the time I was in bed with strep throat. He had to cash a U.S. Savings Bond to get it and needless to say wasn’t too happy. Still, he picked it up on his way home from work.
I remember him bringing the quilt into the bedroom and I opened the bag to see how it looked. Words cannot describe the love and respect I had for that quilt. It had been a large undertaking for mom and me both and to see how it turned out was just the boost I needed to get serious with the other one. It took me a total of eight years to finish Becky’s school dress quilt but I did and it’s still fun to look at the pieces in the quilt and identify the dress and the year she wore them to school. Today Becky has the quilt and though it is quite old it is still a treasure to us both.
Working on quilts has been a passion ever since. The patchwork ones are my favorites….and working them into a proper pattern to display their true beauty is an art-form. Over the years I have made many quilts but I only totally did one from beginning to end by hand. It was after I quilted one for my mother and proved to myself I was capable of finishing the project. It is a “star” pattern and made for my name (Esther) which means….a star.
When dad died suddenly in 1974 my mother was lost. Their marriage was like Ronald and Nancy Reagan. They were never apart and much of the time my brother and I felt like there was a relationship between them that even we didn’t enter into. No matter what dad did or didn’t do mom was the buffer. Dad never crossed a certain line with mom no matter how angry because of the bond they had. They were each other’s first loves and married at twenty and twenty-one. The years after served to draw them ever closer.
Mom was still grieving years after dad was gone. I tried many diversions hoping she could find her zest for living again. Finally I hit upon her piecing a quilt once more. She admired the ones I was always working on and said the only pattern she would consider doing was the Grandmother’s Flower Garden. Encouraged, I suggested a larger hexagon as it would be easier for her to manage. She agreed and again I cut pieces for her. She had many happy hours working on it and eventually we finished it. That particular pattern is still one of my favorites.....
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
