quiltersmuse.com Blog

Life is changing all around us. A friend saw the sonogram of her first grandchild … and framed it. The Jerusalem Artichokes showed their first wonderful yellow, composite flowers, two days ago. While every other vegetation in the garden is changing its appearance, the tall stalky plant, a member of the Sunflower family, is blooming. Its edible roots make a lovely Tompinabour Soup that has an earthy taste.

Jim has done away with the vegetable garden and removed the fence around it. Now, the local, feral? cats have found their own personal space to do you know what. It’s a wonder we don’t see more cats decorating the busy road. I believe it is criminal to abuse cats and throw them out like that. Yet, it seems common in our neighborhood.

This week has been another busy one. The page proofs for the January 2009 issue of The Quilter look very colorful.

The leaves are quickly turning and it’s time to take a trip to northern New Hampshire, very shortly. Other friends are heading for the American Quilt Study Group meeting in Ohio. I hope that all have a good time and come away inspired and with new friends.

So, it’s been just another ordinary week, one of a death in the family, politics not quite as usual, some amusing moments with some of the candidates, but mostly somber ones as everyone tries to figure out the financial crisis.

There’s nothing further to report, no more letters from a young man from Italy who would willingly move in with me if I’d pay all his expenses and move to a beach so he could surf all day. Just the usual requests from students who need more information for their projects. I am beginning to think that “the same” is just fine.

Patricia Cummings

Without 4-H, I would not have had a chance to learn how to sew, how to knit, or how to identify seeds and plants. I would not have waited on a supper with an international theme, to raise money for trips. I would not have played my guitar before an audience, or worn a two piece bathing suit in a fashion show (those were the days), or participated in a Can-Can line, in a rented costume. Without 4-H, I would not have had a senior mentor who taught me all about houseplants and gave me “slips” of plants, whenever I visited her. I was so fond of her, one day I walked 3 miles, to the center of town, where she lived. Fortunately, I got a ride home.

Without 4-H, I would not have had the chance to visit Washington, D.C., racing to the top. I would not have enjoyed the Smithsonian Institution, with all of its dinosaurs and other bony artifacts. I would not have gone to the Washington Zoo, and been able to see Polar Bears, for the first time.

Some people have memories of Girl Scouts. Living in a rural community, I forged my early relationships with other 4-H members. There was a camaraderie among those who were Jr. Leaders. Another fun group was the Horsemanship Club.

My hometown encouraged 4-H activities, and then, there were also County events. I remember the outfit I wore to a County Dress Revue. It consisted of a white blouse with a stand-up collar and bell shaped sleeves with lace trim, worn under a green (was it a light weight wool?) jumper, with a square neck, and two pockets.

None of what I achieved in 4-H would have been possible without adult mentors. Some of the items we made were entered into the local agricultural fair in town. Somewhere in this house, I have a stack of blue ribbons that were won for “most creative floral arrangement,” “horsemanship,” “white bantam chickens,” etc. I have to smile when I recall the fun of my youth, as I was introduced to wholesome activities that have been friends throughout my lifetime. Here’s to 4-H and all that it does for young people, and moreover, here’s to the adults who teach, guide, and oversee, and make it possible to learn lessons whose effect is everlasting.

Patricia Cummings

Let me preface this by saying that I rarely watch television. The exception is the News. However, last season I was intrigued by the show, “The Office.” I was looking forward to the new season because I liked various story lines.

What a disappointment with that show, and the one preceding it, “Earl.” Last night, both shows had the need to portray women as involved in extramarital affairs or illicit activities. In the later case, Earl’s father’s neighbor moved away because he felt guilty after he helped himself to Earl’s father’s wife, apparently with her urging and full consent.

Back at “The Office,” the Boss’s ex-girlfriend is expecting a baby and when she shows up at the workplace, he rubs her belly, crooning, “Who’s Your Daddy?”

In another scene, one of the “girls” has become engaged to a co-worker, and while he is busy trying to plan some wonderful honeymoon trip, somehow she keeps wandering downstairs to hang out in the closet with her ex-boyfriend, another co-worker, admonishing him each time that it will be the “last.” She explains, “I really like my fiance.”

There is something about these shows that is very disturbing in a moral sense. Based on these productions, we could ask if Americans have any moral fiber left. And, furthermore, if these images bother a middle-aged woman, like me, what effect are they having on young people who watch this irresponsible behavior? I mean, if you don’t know who the father of your baby is, you’ve been cavorting with a few too many boyfriends, don’t you think?

We always come back to the age old question:  Does art portray life, or is it an exaggeration? In this arena, of so-called humor, are the scenes supposed to be (sickening) funny, the more disgusting the better?

Last night, when “The Office,” was not being gross, or the characters not being crudely insulting of each other, (one calling another, “retarded,”) then, there was some other unsettling scenes. One I did not appreciate was when a new girl said she didn’t want to go out with a guy because she preferred women … but then said, that she had lied. You know, I never heard about “gays,” growing up, and I was the happier for it. Now, the idea is crammed down our throats everywhere we turn, and especially in the media. Sorry, I see no reason for “pride.”

Finally, I had to turn off the TV after one of the characters, who was on an enforced diet, by the boss, fell off the scale upon which all of her co-workers were involved in their weekly weigh-in. She landed on the concrete warehouse floor and was lying in a pool of blood. That was enough! Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be tuning in next week. I could see nothing entertaining or culturally redeeming in either of the shows. At least with the News shows, the events actually happened and therefore, are believable.

Patricia Cummings

When I was sixteen, my father set up an account for me in the Credit Union that he founded. Handing me a passbook, he told me to save my babysitting money and any other money gifts. I did not receive many of the latter, but I did have a doting aunt who faithfully sent one dollar in a birthday card to every niece and nephew she had, yearly, without fail.

Well, I found that I did not make much babysitting money because I lived in a small, farming community where folks usually retired with the chickens. Some of the city slickers who decided to move to our quiet town presented the possibility of watching their unruly offspring. In one instance, I had the opportunity to babysit two demons. Between the menacing Siamese cat making threatening noises, from any point she could reach that was higher than my head, (mainly, the stairwell), and the boys “finding” a (fake) snake in their bed, the event was topped only by a drunken father who insisted on driving me home. In fact, I believe that is the last time I ever agreed to babysit. Yet, I digress.

I am most thankful to my father for the financial lessons he taught me. The first lesson is to not abuse credit. Never spend more than you can pay back in a month. Of course, the credit card companies frown on that practice. The game is to entrap people into spending more and more, to the point that consumers may never be able to pay off the debt.

With hard work and frugality and yes, self-denial, when it came to expensive vacations, we are ok. Self-sufficient talents assist the cause of financial independence. The government is not doing so well. One would think that Americans would never forget the lessons of the Great Depression – “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without,” being one of them. I remember meeting a woman who would take the collars off of her husband’s shirts so that she could sew them on the other way to give the shirt longer life.
I have thought about the ramifications of the current, national, fiscal crisis. I suspect that the enormity of the problem is actually being minimized. I do not own any investments. My father tried the stock market once and lost  money. He said, “Never again.” The rule of thumb is never to invest more than you can afford to lose. I’ve always had my eye on the bottom line, and have never had any discretionary income that I would be happy losing.

“Save for a rainy day,” was a Credit Union/Cuna Mutual Insurance Co. logo that involved the depiction of a little man with an umbrella stamped on various pieces of ephemera. I took the image seriously.

I am sure I don’t understand “big business” and I am equally sure that I don’t care to try. I don’t know if it is just a matter of convenience to blame the current situation on “Republican” greed, cronyism, and corruption.

I just have one question, why hasn’t anyone been “watching the store?” I mean, this didn’t happen overnight, so where has the oversight been up to the present? We have a fine way of getting ourselves in a pickle. I’d rather eat a pickle, a homemade one, if you please, a little tart and a little salty. As for the rest of this “mess,” I simply don’t get it. That said, I’m off to tend to my own knittin’ in hopes that those who know more about financial matters will get this straightened out. So, “Amen & Amen!”

Patricia Cummings

Ye have fought our battles for us
Showing how the brave can die
We are waiting to receive you
When you lay your armors by.

We’ll stitch with the needle
And fight with the tongue
‘Till every old rebel
Is conquered or hung.

Hope is the anchor of the soul
‘Tis Jesus makes the wounded whole
Believe in Christ, the Victory’s won
Look up, by faith, receive thy crown.

These are words that appear on a potholder- style quilt, each block bound separately, then joined together, made by the Ladies Aid Society in Portland, Maine, made in 1864.

Motifs that appear on the surface blocks are bunting flags, a lighthouse with a flag, an anchor, a Bible, drums, stars, crossing flags, an eagle with arrows on the left, canon balls, swords and more. There are twenty blocks in all.

This quilt is very dark in color, with some of the designs almost indiscernible from a distance. I don’t believe it would photograph well. This is held in a private museum in New England. I cannot clearly remember any details about the quilt, only those I wrote down at the time. I saw it several years ago. It appears to be a group effort quilt made to honor soldiers who fought during the Civil War.

Patricia Cummings