Connecting Threads

I intend to write about a different quilt today, a charming 1930s butterfly one, as I have an epilogue to share. Since it is already featured in a prior blog, I needed a different image for this post (ericas-heirloom-treasures/feedsack-friendships). Deciding that dragonflies are not a far cry from butterflies, I landed on this quilt. Other than “fly”, it turns out they are not vaguely related. Dragonflies are in the order of Odonata, do not undergo metamorphosis, and their wings are transparent. Butterflies are in the order of Lepidopter, metamorphize, and have colorful wings. Forgive my stretch. Back to my quilt.

The quilt was an experiment I tried during the Covid lockdown. I was inspired by a quilt I saw at a WI quilt show, created this way with a guitar image. I loved the idea, but not the guitar theme. My children always associated my mother, Barbara F. Humphrey (1928-2021) their ‘Mimi’, with dragonflies, though I cannot recall why that started. This became a gift theme for many years, with a few ‘handmade’ treasures, including this charming pillow handmade by one of my sons. Being remarkably unsentimental, my mother asked me at one point to please stop the dragonfly gifts. Fortunately, I snagged my son’s handiwork before it was discarded.

Choosing the dragonfly theme, as my mother had just died, I had no directions, and worked through a myriad of snafus. The strips are all ½”, and the two swaths of fabric – one lights and one brights – turned out to not be sufficient. Cutting all the strips, aligning all the rows, and appliquéing the dragonfly sections is not a process I’d likely undertake again. There is a reverse image quilt top made of the leftovers, which someday I should quilt and finish off. But, as this one has sat on a shelf for four years, I haven’t been motivated. In the meantime, I’ve move on to other projects. Like writing a blog for the heck of it. The art I find, the tidbits of info I uncover, and the connections to wonderful people has been a priceless reward.

Moving from dragonfly to butterfly, this quilt was purchased by my daughter’s friend at an estate sale and I cleaned and repaired it for her. Now, however, there is an epilogue to write. When I posted a blog this week about lamp treasures (ericas-heirloom-treasures/my-love-affair-with-calder), I forwarded the link to Trent, from whom I’d purchased them. He wrote a charming note on the blog, appreciating my post, which I shared with my daughter. She mentioned she hoped Trent would see my prior blog written about this butterfly quilt as it had been his grandmother’s. Wait. What?! Yes, she said, her friend had purchased the quilt from his June estate sale. When the friend was paying, Trent told a relative that his grandmother’s quilt was going to a new home. I had no idea the quilt’s history was known! Being a rather avid historical artifact junky, this was too good to pass up. I sent Trent another text, apologizing for pestering him, and forwarded the “Feedsack Friendship” blog link about his grandmother’s quilt.

The vast majority of quilts – especially vintage ones – are unsigned and their history is lost. These treasures were made by real women, with the purpose of keeping their family warm. Using whatever means they had to create something charming to do so. Knowing who did the work keeps that history alive, and I am rabid about trying to tie artwork, quilts, etc to the original maker (thus most of my blog posts). I have even tracked down people whose parents had created the art work I found and returned it to them (ericas-heirloom-treasures/american-dream).

Trent’s reply about the quilt blog was charming:

“Wow! This choked me up a bit. Thank you so much for taking care of it and seeing the beauty of what my Grandmother created. All the butterflies were material from castoff clothing from my Mother’s family. They used everything they could because they had nothing. The new binding or border trim looks so beautiful! This is a testimony that you should pass things along to those who understand and love them. I would have never been able to give it its second life and breathe new life into it. I always felt guilty moving these things along but now I feel like I have done the right thing.”

When I realized I could document the quilt with the maker’s information, I asked for his Grandmother’s name so I could create a label for the quilt. Trent replied with a photograph of his maternal grandparents, as well as a note.

“That would be amazing. Her name was Ora Alder. My Grandfather, when he was younger, was a coal miner and died early in life due to black lung from the coal mines and my Grandmother worked at Delco, a factory in Kokomo, Indiana.  My Grandfather never learned how to read because during the depression he was made to go to work to support his parents and could not go to school. They died with almost a half a million dollars in the bank. They worked hard and saved and lived simply in the face of a lot of adversity. They were good people. Hoosiers.

I was unable to track down any birth or death dates for Ora and her husband Frank, though a recent death of one of their daughter’s told me Ora’s maiden name was Messer. I also learned the couple had four children, born in the 1930s during the Great Depression. Likely Frank and Ora would have been born around 1910, setting up house during the depression. Thus, Ora was making quilts out of scraps to keep her children warm. These quilts were well used, as quilts should be. Her daughter saved this one, passing it on to her son.

While Trent appreciated the quilt, there does come a time when all of us have to part with “stuff” – either due to excessive accumulation (uh hum, lamps…) or the sale of larger homes and downsizing. Some people just need to part with “stuff” for emotional reasons. Or philosophical ideas. What I love is the idea of the stories these treasures have, the joy of finding connections, both through research and through new friendships, and the ability to let handmade creations speak for history.