quiltersmuse.com Blog

Have you ever wondered why you are really here? Each day seems to be the same. We get up, eat three meals per day, if we are lucky, do whatever work is required of us, and go to bed, only to begin the same ritual the next day.

Beauty is present in life, but only when we consciously make up our minds to seek it. Essentially, we make our own fun via the friends with whom we laugh, the movies and television that we watch, the creative pursuits in which we engage our talents, and the people, animals, and plants whom we nurture.

Every day inherently has built-in lessons. Sometimes, the reality of the finality of life’s journey hits us in the face, when we or someone we know is dealing with end of life issues, or has lost the battle to hang on to life.

Mostly, to keep our own sanity intact, we try to keep a positive attitude toward the future and a sense of hope that everything will turn out well. As we age, we realize that we cannot turn back the hands of the clock to a time when it was easy as pie to jog a mile, or even get out of bed. Yet, we must accept our mortal bodies as they are, imperfect and ready to fail us, at any given moment.

As time begins to slip away from us, it seems even more important to accomplish things like writing books and poetry, and singing songs, and sharing our thoughts and wisdom with those younger and more inexperienced. When one reaches a time in life when the word “senior” is most appropriate in describing who we are, most of us want to assert that we are still capable. Perhaps our bodies are more tired, more quickly, but we still have a lot left to give.

My assertion is that the world will remain a sea of sameness, until we personally create more waves. Mind you, not torrential, monsoon waves that destroy everything in their path, just waves of new thoughts, a new way of perceiving the current happenings of the world at large and our role in it.

There has been a saying for a long time that it is old men who send young men into harm’s way in wars. Our commander-in-chief is young, and yet is thinking of sending still more men into Afghanistan. It is ironic that we have to “fight for peace.” It seems to me to be a contradiction of terms. With all the personal tragedies and sufferings that Afghanistan has endured, why isn’t everyone just laying down their arms and embracing each other, saying, “No more war.” Meanwhile, the person, the so-called “mastermind” who initiated this war with his atrocious, planned attacks on American soil, goes scotfree, skulking about a cave, probably in Pakistan.

Peace begins one person at a time. When we just say, “No. Enough is enough” and walk away from conflict, we have triumphed for a day.

While we may bemoan our daily lives for their mundane chores, there is no “sameness” for troops in the field. Wondering if every minute will be the last breath taken has a tremendous psychological impact, whether that is realized at the point of trauma, or not.

Yes, my friend, there is meaning to life. Sometimes, we must look hard to try to understand our roles in the greater scheme of the universe. “Why am I here?” and “Where am I going?” are questions that are common to all humankind. They are thoughts to ponder, and in observing our own behaviors and our roles in the world, we shall become stronger, more motivated, and more efficient at throwing off the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” In closing, I’ll recount the words of singer, Frank Sinatra, “Luck, be a lady tonight.”

Pray for grace. If you don’t have it, you will need it, sooner than you think. And those, my friends, are my musings on this chilly but clear autumn evening.

Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet,
enough trials to make you strong,
enough sorrow to keep you human,
and enough hope to make you happy. ~Anonymous~

A looming question on my mind, of late, is who exactly owns the past? In a simple way, I would respond that we collectively own the past and all of its artifacts. As humans, we live, work, play, worship, and interact within a community of others. What we do, and what we say, is contingent upon, and a result of, interactions with significant people we meet and know.

None of us can take our worldly goods with us. Any material goods will remain on the earth, in some form, until the earth itself is no longer. For this reason, it strikes me a little “funny” when certain people want to place proprietary rights of ownership, or usage, on items that like everything else are just passing through their hands.

Lately, it seems that whenever someone announces an intent to study a particular topic of textile history, a statement is made that appears to carry the same message, almost akin to the growl of a dog. In other words, “Stay away.”

My point is this: today, quilt research seems to revolve largely around money, particularly for museums who see quilts as an untapped resource for themselves to somehow attract the public and somehow make money. Yet, no one person can ever truly “own” a quilt held in a facility, any more than an individual (or museum) can have exclusive rights to a fabric in an old quilt, just because they happen to want to reproduce it.

Money is a necessary component of everyday life. It becomes evil when its acquisition comprises the sole gist of our existence.

To my way of thinking, all of history and all historical artifacts, whatever they may be, truly belong to us all. It is sinful to withhold information about the past that could help any of us in our understanding of life and its affects.

It is equally unreasonable to assume that if “X” person is studying “Z,” then only “X” person should be the one who is studying “Z.” So much for the idea of “proprietary scholarship!”

And now, back to my sick bed. The flu is not fun!

The image seen here is the cover of a Joan Baez songbook with 66 songs, music, and notations. I somehow ended up with two copies and therefore, will accept “best offer” on this one, if anyone is interested. Write to: pat@quiltersmuse.com for details.

The 1960s: A Time of Turbulence/ A Time of Changing Music

When the fame of Joan Baez first hit, my oldest brother who was nine years older than me, bought her album with his own pocket money he earned by bagging groceries at a local grocery store. He was enamored of Joan’ beauty and her voice.

Shortly thereafter, he found a girlfriend who looked similar to her, with long black hair and brown eyes, slender of build. I felt it was not a coincidence.

Joan’s talents were God-given. What she did with those talents made history.

I have just been watching a summary of Joan’s life on Public Television. The documentary describes her as having a strong sense of right and wrong and acting accordingly. A sense of outrage about the “hideousness” (the murders, etc) of the Vietnam War, brought her to North Vietnam. The same sense of wanting the world’s people to “know that someone cares” sent her to Sarajevo where she sat in the middle of a street singing, “Amazing Grace.”

She felt that she might spend time in and out of prison for speaking out about such timely events of the day related to the draft and civil rights. She was thrown in jail a few times for civil disobedience. If people had a tenth of her gumption, much more social change might be happening today. Ah, but that is another story.

It is always fun to find out the end of someone’s life, or at least, the end thus far. To know that she married David Harris, but did not marry her great love, Bob Dylan, is a personal detail revealed in the film. Their marriage lasted from 1968-1973, during which Harris was mostly serving time in jail for being a draft protester. To know that she has a loving son, with whom she enjoys playing music, is another tidbit that speaks of her life as it is now. She is in her sixth decade of life.

I will always think of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and others of their generation as forever young. With the sheer courage of youth, they told America what America needed to hear at a time America needed to listen to their messages. Baez states that she was a political activist first, a musician, second. Dylan provided some of her meaningful words, and she played the guitar, rounding out their team presence.

To me, the words of the title of one song she plays, “Diamonds and Rust” are meaningful. Diamonds are selected for their brilliance and longevity. The truth is as pure and clean and long-lasting as a diamond. Lies we tell ourselves or other people are like rust. They corrode relationships; they sully our happiness.

To me, Joan Baez is a true “American Master” who is a diamond. We will never forget her, or her spirit in the face of adversity, as she sought social justice and peace in the world and in her personal life.

Even now, she is a strong, beautiful woman, changed yes, but one whose inner beauty still shines through in a quiet, reflective way of one who has led a full life.

I loved the PBS station’s TV special and this very intimate glimpse into the hardships and challenges that helped to shape the artist, Joan Baez, whom we continue to appreciate today.

Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications

This morning, a flood of memories hit my brain as I awoke, like a camera snapping photos of events that have happened over a lifetime. The following is a list of what I recalled. These ideas are not listed in chronological order.

Patricia Cummings – 2009

1) I remember showing up at a Boston hotel to give a talk at the International Conference of Neurosurgeons, in the hospitality lounge, and being greeted by a big sign, announcing my name and title of the talk. My position was misrepresented. I was the Regional Coordinator for the American Quilt Study Group, at the time, not the “chairman” of that group. See the sign (and me) on the “about Pat page” of my website. Someone got their wires crossed, yet I took the sign home when it was offered, finding it quaint. My talk was about the history of Crazy Quilts and I brought a selection of my own miniature quilts to display.

2) I recall what fun I had at area meetings of the Embroiderers’ Guild of America, and how I presented five consecutive programs about Japanese Sashiko, Culture, Music, and Design Themes, in the 1990s. It was a tight-knit group with classy, older ladies, most of whom have now passed on.

3) I fondly remember working with my friend, the late Virginia Stevens, a weaver and embroiderer who loved textile history, for a year and a half, to study and document all of the quilts in the NH Historical Society’s collection. (1993-1994). I wrote a report for curator’s use.

4) What fun Jim and I had while visiting the Remick Museum, Strawbery Banke Museum, and the Musterfield Farm Museum, all in New Hampshire, to prepare articles and to see their antique quilts and write about them. We were on hand, several times, at the Remick, to meet and greet visitors and talk about quilts.

5) I remember how hard I worked on making an outfit to wear for 4-H Dress Review, when I was a teenager, and how happy I was to win a ribbon for the jumper and white crepe blouse with lace-trimmed, bell-shaped sleeves.

4-H performance at the Town Hall. David Hersey and Patricia Grace (me!), on guitar

6) I think about what a young teenager I was when (at age 14 or 15), I was elected as Secretary of Grange #74, Deerfield, NH, and how mostly everyone else who attended those meetings has now passed on.

Russell Bowden, Worthy Master of Grange *74, George Moulton, Gertrude Petersen, and Robert Stevens. This photo was taken when I was a teenager, and these four individuals are no longer with us.

7) I recall how excited I was to be able to take care of a retired Standardbred (”camp”) horse, who was very gentle and I recollect the day “we” won a Blue Ribbon at the Deerfield Fairgrounds. See a photo of us in the song file, “Mi Caballo Blanco.”

I’ll never forget the night that I was inducted into Sigma Delta Pi, the National Honor Society for Spanish Scholars. The meeting featured Jorge Luis Borges, a famous Argentinian writer, whose work I love. He is now deceased.

9) I remember calling Texas, after the judging of the 6th step (quilt) of the Master Craftsman program, only to be told by the program chairman’s husband, “Not Pass.” It was awhile before I could set to work again, and in the end, was very grateful for the chance to prove myself again with a final quilt. I earned the title of Master Craftsman in Quilting within 9 years; it had taken the chairman, at the time, 14 years. After my final quilt had been hung in the hot sun for four days and nothing could be found to disqualify it, I received notification that it had passed. Equally, I remember the blue ribbon I was awarded for a Hawaiian quilt that I put on exhibit in New Hampshire (I rarely exhibit my quilts, although I did send two of them off to a TAS show in 2003).

Mini-quilt made by Patricia Cummings and sent to Russia in 1992 as a friendship gift

This photo shows me with my “adopted” Auntie, Gertrude Petersen and her husband, John, and my father (John E. Grace), on the right. I am the lone survivor of people in this photo.

10) I am thankful for all of the fine people in my life who have taught me how to think about Liberal Arts, and Life itself. I am thankful for those who approach life with zest and have a passion for living.

11) With joy, I remember spotting an orange salamander at Profile Falls, on a hike in the fall, right after 9-11. I have loved those creatures since I was in grade school.

12) I remember a phone call that changed my life, and a subsequent “gift” of many family textile items (the Lewis Collection) to study, photograph, and publish.

13) In the category of things for which I give thanks, I remember submitting an article to a magazine editor. She told me she loved it, and if I had any others, to just let her know. I am working on my 69th article for that same magazine!

14) I think back to when I participated in an International Dinner to raise money for 4-H, and how I was part of a Can-Can dance line, how I played my guitar and sang with other people, and how I made a green and white apron and wore a green dress, to wait on tables. I also modeled a two-piece swimming suit – those were the days!

15) I recall the UNH requirement that stated that all students had to be able to swim four lengths of the pool to graduate. I did not know how to swim at 18, yet I used mind over matter, so to speak, and took Lifeguard training and W.S.I. classes. I taught Swimming at a summer camp.

View from the dock where I taught Swimming for one summer in Andover, New Hampshire

16) I remember the 5:30 a.m. phone calls from school districts all around Concord, NH, beckoning me to substitute teach for the day. I always loved Mrs. Graham’s college-bound juniors. One of the students wrote a poem and dedicated it to me. He is the same kid who liked to do impersonations of an evangelical minister (”just write me a check,” … and he took his own advice and became a minister.

Holiday reception at the NH State House. This photo shows Gov. John Sununu greeting Patricia Cummings in 1989.

17) I recall how happy I was to type legislation proposals in the Legislative Services department of the NH State House for one year.

So many good memories. I’ve barely scratched the surface. Bad memories count, as well, and always hold a lesson, although they are not fruitful enough to linger over.

If ever I were to doubt that there is a “Gott in Himmel,” all I have to do is to remember the opportunities that have been afforded me, and the many times I have been able to share in so many ways, providing information about quilt care, international textiles, Redwork, Sweetheart Pillows, and other topics. I have had good luck finding research facts that have escaped others, and in having the wherewithal to write well enough to produce books and patterns, as well as articles.

This may seem like one long brag. It isn’t. What you have just read is an exercise in self-affirmation. Try it, if you ever get to feeling discounted or under-appreciated. Just think of all the accomplishments you have had, and you will realize that you have done a whole lot more than you think.

Wishing you peace and happiness,

Patricia Cummings
Quilter’s Muse Publications