Archive for September, 2008

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All In The Course of a Week

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

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

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The Joy of 4-H – Past Lessons Learned

Saturday, September 27th, 2008

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

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“The Office” Sinks to New Lows

Friday, September 26th, 2008

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

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Lessons Well Learned

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

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

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1864 Civil War Quilt

Wednesday, September 24th, 2008

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

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Longing for the “Waltons”

Tuesday, September 23rd, 2008

The television show, “The Waltons,” was a long running series. Grandma and Grandpa Walton lived with the next generation down, and their children. Sitting around the table, there were quite a few people, all caring, all loving, all ready to help each other. The grandparents were ready and willing to provide advice, all of it sound.

The economy status of the household depended on productivity of the farm. Scenes would often occur in the barn. The show itself was a scrubbed-clean look at American life. Church on Sunday, everyone around the dinner table, giving thanks for God’s bounty, and at the end of each show, everyone calling “Good Night” to each other, one by one.

That may have been a romanticized look at life as we think of it … in the past. The reality of today’s world is that no one has time to give each other the right time of day, let alone an “extra” box of raspberries. We have become so ego-centric, and so disinterested in others, it’s exasperating. I call it the “get ahead” mentality, a system I don’t want to get caught up in, as I already have “a head.”

For a moment though, it is pleasant to think of charming stories like The Waltons and Anne of Green Gables. In fact, literature and cinematography transport us to a place where we can, in our minds, be better than we really are. Just recalling the two story lines bring a smile to my face. It’s so nice to think of what might have been … but never was.
Patricia Cummings

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Tomorrow

Monday, September 22nd, 2008

Do you remembering being a little kid? The idea of “tomorrow” was a hard concept to grasp. The notion of waiting for a special event, like Christmas, was even more difficult. A song whose lyrics say, “but tomorrow never comes,” has a ring of truth to it. The fact is, we can only live today. The real fact is, we can only live “in the moment.”

How can we fathom concepts like “eternity,” when we can’t wrap our heads around “tomorrow.” We can only live today, and hope that in the future, we will have better times. I am told that the Vietnamese language does not have words for yesterday or tomorrow. Purposely left out of the lexicon, those people can just dispense with thinking about time concepts. Isn’t that kind of freeing, in a sense?

When we have today, and only today, we can center our accomplishments and our fears on a 24 hour time period. We no longer have to worry about deadlines. Those of us in journalism “approve this message.”

Our country is in quite a state right now with some people looking back to 1929 with the idea that this past week has been a near miss from financial ruin for many. It’s always “the little guy” that takes the fall for the malfeasance of others, and the constant mistreatment by those who have more.

At least financially, the more well-heeled do not have to worry about tomorrow, that is, if there is a belief in place that money is the answer to everything and will provide all that is needed to sustain life. Like the man who allows pollutants, like dyes, to enter a river from which he hopes to drink water and bathe, there is a false sense of security, these days, and a lack of awareness that we have been destroying our environment in the name of making money.

For one, I will be so happy when the political elections are over. Maybe we can back to concentrating on things that matter so that we can all have a better tomorrow. Without careful stewardship of our assets, our workers, and our environment, the song’s prophecy that tomorrow may not come, may come true. While we are busy redistributing wealth, what is Russia doing with their nuclear arms? While we are busy thinking about oil and where we can drill in the ocean, that could potentially lead to oil spills and environmental damage, why are we not as busy developing those hybrid cars to reduce our reliance on foreign oil?

I prefer the Democratic theme song, “Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow … it will be here sooner than you think. Yesterday’s gone … yesterday’s gone.”

We should stop being greedy and looking out for number one. We should stop trying to beat out the people whom we consider to be our competitors, and yes, I have witnessed this, time and again, even in the quilt world. Just be the best that you can be. “You” are a unique blend of experience, education, and talent. Use those assets. Money isn’t everything. In fact, when you come right down to it, money, as an isolated entity, isn’t anything compared to your own life.

If we all work hard and keep our own affairs in order, we will have something to give to the world. In so doing, we will have achieved a great deal more satisfaction than someone whose main source of amusement is sitting around, admiring the six digit numbers of a bank account.

Live for today.

Pat

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The Mikado

Sunday, September 21st, 2008

Yum Yum

Mikado quilt photo by James Cummings

Above, you see a portion of a piece of Mikado cheater cloth produced by the Cocheco Mills in Dover, NH in the late nineteenth century. After I bought a Crazy Quilt with this image, and those of many other characters in Gilbert and Sullivan’s musical production, I decided to investigate the story and any ephemera I could find regarding it.

What fun to watch the show on DVD, from the comfort of my own living room and to acquaint myself with the plot of the tale. In the November issue of The Quilter magazine , just now distributed, I have an article that summarizes the story, shows the entire Crazy Quilt and individual components. This subject was an enchanting one to research. As usual, the magazine is available from Borders, Barnes & Nobles, some grocery stores, Walmart, some quilt shops and from the company itself.

Two examples of the Cocheco Cloth have been located, one in the private sector, and one in a museum. In addition, two quilts with “Mikado” fabrics have been spotted in museums. Yet another quilt, that is rendered in Redwork, features an embroidered block based on the popular operetta.

I hope that you can round up a copy of the article. I believe it contributes quite a lot to the study of quilt history, as well as material artifacts.

Patricia Cummings, quilt historian

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The Warriors of Winter

Friday, September 19th, 2008

One of my favorite folk songs, “Urge for Goin’,” speaks of the change of seasons from fall to winter. “The warriors of winter give a clear, triumphant shout.” That’s a poetic way of saying that Old Man Winter is heading this way and no one, but no one, will stop him.

Last night, the temperature went down to 44 Fahrenheit. It was the kind of  night when the heavy comforter, we currently have on the bed, did not find its way onto the floor by morning.

There was no killing frost yesterday. Most people who have gardens are scrambling to get in the last of their vegetables to use, to can, or to freeze.

Today was designated as the day when the air conditioner would be taken out of the bedroom window. Soon, the heat will be turned on again, and we will be making those hearty soup and homemade bread meals, and we will put aside the lighter fare of summer … like cucumbers!

The first magazine of the season arrived in today’s mail, and it centered on holiday trees and decorations. A beautiful tribute to Tasha Tudor was featured, and appreciated. It’s always nice to recall times past that seemed more simple. When I remember Tasha, I always think of the word, “Simplicity.” She passed on recently, but her work and her gentle ways will forever live in our hearts.

As winter approaches, I think of the stories a friend once told, of sleeping under wool quilts, so heavy, that there was no hope of getting up at night, nor of even turning over.

Whether you are thinking of Christmas or other Holiday gifts you plan to make, or whether you are trying to finish up some quilts so that you and yours will be warm this winter, consider making an extra wheelchair quilt or lap throw, and bring the finished quilt to your nearest nursing home, or veteran’s hospital.

Gestures of caring are never out of date, or fashion. Have fun as we transition into the next “phase” – a time of closed-up living, the coziness of home and hearth, and moreover, a time to “take joy” in all that our hands create.

Patricia Cummings, Quilter’s Muse

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Why Be Neanderthals?

Thursday, September 18th, 2008

Since time began, that is human time, man has discovered new things, and upon some survival depends. We have learned how to make fires; we have learned how to fight forest fires. We have learned to communicate with each other, and with future generations, by using animal blood to make cave paintings. Those who have not been damaged by vandalism still survive. We have developed sequences of sounds that we call “languages.” These words strung together, have sometimes meant survival or a call to arms, as in, “The Redcoats are coming!”

We have created sublime works of ceramic arts, fine art paintings, and other artistic renderings. At the same time, we have painted ugly graffiti, full of hateful, and confused images. Most art work is meant to be expressive. I suppose any art work only has to mean something to its maker. Take Picasso. Yes, I mean … take Picasso … please. His famous painting, “Guernica” that depicts the Spanish Civil War, is not my cup of tea.

I can see the idea of war. Some kid gets smashed to the ground in the playground and his glasses get stolen. Well, he is going to want retribution, not to mention his personal property back.

For the life of me, I cannot understand thousands of men, fighting with each other, to the death, when they are not personally acquainted and have no personal quarrel. Yet, this has happened time and again. What gives? I can’t see myself marching up to someone I never knew before, and say, shooting that person in the head. Maybe I’m naive. I don’t understand violence, but I do “get it” a little better, if there is a cause.

I started out by asking “Why Be Neanderthals?” Can I rephrase that question? Why NOT Be Neanderthals? I mean I didn’t see their daily “rag” or anything, but I have to think and to hope that they were too preoccupied with trying to start a fire to cook something tasty, and that random casualties were rare.

I’ll have to revisit my Art History books. I am probably all wrong in mentioning “Neanderthals.” It was most likely some other group who made the paintings in places like the Caves of Altamira. Neanderthals were simply the earliest group of humans who come to mind. The name wreaks of a certain primitivism that is appealing. I’m merely trying to make a point. If I have to explain it to you, then I’ve already failed.

Live free and enjoy peace, and if you see a Neanderthal running toward you with a stone axe raised high, head in the other direction … fast. I’m sure I’ll be sharing more of my silly wanderings with you on another day. For now, I must turn to more serious matters.

Patricia Cummings

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