Quilts

Every woman in my family did some type of needlework. As I was growing up, I watched my mother, grandmothers, aunts, and great aunts, appreciating their skill. Grandmother Pettit tatted. Although I never picked up that skill, I sat at her feet transfixed as she wove lace. They all crocheted. I managed to pick up that skill and once made a bedspread for my son, completed several years after the promised birthday. There were also scarves for boyfriends, although the

suitors often disappeared after receiving the gift. Of course everyone had quilts that were made by a family member. My favorite pictured in this blog were made by my paternal Grandmother Nitzke with several made by my husband's mother Hazel Balis.
I have wonderful memories of visiting Grandmother Anna and her twin sister Gustie. Afternoons they would sit in the living room with a quilt spread out over a frame, their tiny stitches swirling in the margins of the quilt. It was not quiet work. They laughed, told stories on family members and neighbors. Quilting was an act of love that made everyone happy.
Grandmother would use many of her quilts as gifts. They were frequently her wedding presents and become treasures of the granddaughters like myself who were lucky enough to receive them.



The Warmth Of History

When the temperature drops below freezing,
I pull the family crazy quilt from the closet.
Blue, black, lilac, and rose squares greet me
as I unwrap this gift from the past.
After this quilt blessed grandmother’s bed
for the last quarter of her life,
I inherited its loving warmth.
I lay caressed by the past,
snippets of skirts, vests--family clothing
grandmother artistically assembled.
Smoothing brown herringbone squares
from grandfather’s Sunday suit,
the suit he wore to Goodsell’s funeral,
over my corner of the bed, I flatten
dusty rose patches from the dress
grandmother wore to bridge club
and my childhood piano recitals.
Courting sleep, my finger follows
chain stitches in bold black yarn.
Yet white buttonhole embroidery
decorates the rich black triangles
from Aunt Anna’s black velvet gown.
The best family finery now
my bedtime heritage of love.