The Passage of Time
It sometimes amazes me how quickly life can pass us by. When children are little, parents feel like the days are endlessly long, especially when things are stressful and chaotic, with hardly enough time to sleep. But, soon enough, children are grown, parents are empty nesters, and the days seem to fly by. How the heck do I, a woman who basically doesn’t have a full time job, seem to have days filled with so much I never have time to accomplish all I want to do?! Those books piling up that I absolutely want to read? Dusty. The house projects I want to get done? Awaiting hubby’s involvement…which means very low on the ‘to do’ list. The quilt projects in my mind, and sometimes actually in bins in my sewing room? Great ideas, excited to get to them, but when the heck will that happen between the projects I need to do, the gifts I need to make, the found treasures needing repair or finishing?! I say all this as I look at this remarkable quilt, realizing it is a perfect example of time passing.
I found it during a Bins thrifting outing a few weeks back. The work was originally done as a table cloth, beautifully cross stitched in red on a heavy linen ground. The women was a talented needlewoman as the back is nearly as lovely as the front. I would guess it was done in the 1950s, a time when sitting by a television in the evening or listening to radio broadcasts was the family entertainment. I am unclear if it was a “stamped” pattern or if the woman designed it herself. Given the era, I suspect it was a printed pattern, but either way the time needed to complete the piece was significant. A family held onto it, likely unused as it was always considered a “special” piece. We hold onto those “special” items, handmade by someone we love, as we don’t want to damage them. But what is their value if no one remembers using them? I always insist to new parents that my gifted quilts should be used, thrown on the floor, dragged around in a stroller, snuggled under while reading a book. Otherwise, it languishes as a “pretty” thing no one has a relationship to. Children grow up, parents downsize, and suddenly that “special” quilt -or table cloth – is sent off to a thrift store as no one really cares about it.
When I found this remarkable red work tablecloth, unused and then discarded, I thought it would make a lovely quilt. That said, there was not a chance in hell I would have time to hand quilt the piece – a process that is charming but so darn time consuming almost no quilter I know does so anymore. I could quilt it on my domestic sewing machine, but my skill doing so is rudimentary, and would not do the piece any justice. A dear friend who is a remarkably talented quilter offered to do the work for me on her long arm quilting machine. She did NOT have to ask me twice! How the heck she came up with the beautiful design and executed it so stunningly is beyond me. So now I feel rather guilty.
Not only did she finish the piece a few weeks ago – and I have not as yet had time to write about it – I am not sure how to repay her generosity. She requested I take her and a granddaughter to a Bins outing which hardly seems like work to me! But being a tour guide to the Bins is an amusing process as it is truly a unique world, filled with characters and rules and all sorts of divergent dynamics: people shopping for specific items, selling “found’ treasures to peers, discussing resale values and experiences, dealing with children and teens, watching “on- line sales” events live in the store. And finding treasures.
I also feel guilty submitting the quilt in my local quilt guild’s upcoming October show. The irony is that I basically invested no time into the piece, even though I am submitting it as “my” quilt! The unknown woman who did the red cross stitch work? The lovely friend who designed and quilted the work to bring it to life? Or me, who basically put on the binding? Yup, I win!
