Confessions of a Want-to-be Quilter©
Memoirs of Carol S. Jackson, Evans, GA
Printed by the author
Episode # 8
The visit to Meridian couldn’t come soon enough. During the winter there was a short period of time when I was home, sick. Instead of the customary puzzle book, Daddy had gotten a ball of crochet thread and a needle to keep me entertained between fevers. I couldn’t wait to show Granny what I could make. I rode The City of New Orleans, a delightful steam engine train, to Meridian that year. During the trip I made a shell stitch doily to give to my granny. Dads sister, Aunt Evelyn, and her husband Walter picked me up from the Depot.
Uncle Walter was blind, but could see using his finger tips. I showed the doily to him. He thought it was beautiful. I glowed with pride. You should wrap it,” Unc suggested. “Can we stop and get some paper?”, I asked my aunt. “How about some paper with lots of colors in it?”, Unc replied. “Oh, that would be wonderful.”, I remarked. Without hesitation, Uncle Walter began fingering the newspaper on the front bench seat of the sedan. He pulled out the Saturday funny paper section, smiling as he handed it back to me. “Here you go. Lots of color, you can tie it closed with a piece of your thread, and we won’t have to stop or spend a dime.” Uncle Walter was my hero that day. He was so smart. I began wrapping, per his suggestion.
When we got to Granny’s house, there was a greeting committee of cousins, neighbors and other realities. “Did you bring a present for everyone?,” my aunt inquired. Of course I hadn’t, so she advised that I save my surprise for later. She was smart too. Later finally came, and I gave Granny the shell doily. Well, that got her started! She could crochet too. She taught me to make shade and lamp pulls, then we made teacups and little baskets, and a doll dress. We had to walk to town to get the doll to put in the dress. We starched the items to make them stand on their own. My favorite was a snowball ornament which we molded over a light bulb. When the quilt ladies came over, they too, sat on the porch and made little patches with their thread. Some were round, some were square. I learned that one needed to make a lot of the same kind of design, then put them all together for a table cloth, or summer bed spread.
The day after my eight birthday, Granny called me into the drawing room to give me some bad news. My MawMaw had died the day before. I went to my room to be alone. I wasn’t going to be able to show her my tea cups and doll, or any of the other wonderful things I had made. We wouldn’t be able to make a table cloth together. Hours later, I emerged from my room and went to the kitchen. I made a bread, butter and sugar sandwich, with just a touch of cinnamon. This was a comfort food I had learned to make from MawMaw, and I needed comfort.
. . . to be continued . . .
Only two more episodes of the Early Years
To read or re-read the story to this point:
episode #1 http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-89325-1.htm
episode #2 http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-91439-1.htm
episode #3 http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-93252-1.htm
episode #4 http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-95299-1.htm
episode #5 http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-97179-1.htm
episode #6 http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-99313-1.htm
episode # 7 http://www.quiltingboard.com/t-101509-1.htm
Please contact the author for reprint information.