Jenny

This badly worn quilt was made by my great-grandmother Jenny. There were three of these quilts. Perhaps my sisters have the others, but I am not sure. It seems like it should be repaired, but, of course, I love the soft edges.

The quilt reminds me of her. Her house is only about a block away from me now, though I didn't grow up in this town that I live in. Her house always smelled like ginger bread. She had the most amazing African Violets in the window in her 'front room'. Christmas always meant mittens wrapped in tissue paper. She had a huge garden with flowers and vegetables. She worked at home sewing gloves for the local glove shops. But she also made quilts like this one from clothes that were worn out or used up, depression era thrift. And of course the mittens. She even caned chairs. She was certainly an inspiration to me when I was young. I would get so excited going to her house, I would get hiccups, to which her remedy was sugar water. She lived 100 years, gone now for quite some time.

The quilt also reminds me of my father. I have an image in my mind, from a photograph, of this quilt on my bed, when I was 4 or 5, and he is reading a book to me, putting me to bed. He's also been gone for quite some time. But that's ok. I guess I like the way this quilt reminds me that time marches on, but people continue in threads of memories.