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Friday, December 1st, 2006


 

While browsing in an antiques store, I came across a shoe box that was loaded with hexagons, one and a half inches in size. The collection of circa 1930s/1940s fabrics looked interesting enough to bring home. On closer inspection, I found that some were damaged because they had been basted onto templates made from old magazine pages, and/or had come into contact with the cardboard shoe box interior, over time. Wood acid had leached into some of the fabrics, making them unsuitable for use.

I sifted through all of the pieces, and started removing the basting stitches on some hexagons that I thought I could save. When I removed one of the papers and looked at the back of it, I could see that there was a picture that appeared to be President Harry Truman, standing on one end of a train, campaigning.

After sharing this information with an online list today, a very kind person sent me this link to photos from the Truman Library that feature President Truman campaigning from a train in 1948:

At any rate, I had taken that particular hexagon that was basted onto the black and white magazine photo, and I had made 1/4″ size hexagons (finished size), using “Paper Pieces,” a product that makes it easier to construct hexagons, as the papers are pre-cut to size.

Here is a picture of the little quilt that I made, without a particular plan. It just developed, as I went along. It is 10 1/4″ wide x 10 1/2″ tall.

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Friday, December 1st, 2006


 

Growing up, I had two things to fear: the Communists (there was “one behind every bush”), and the boogey-man whom my brother always threatened was going to “get me.”

My mother, always fond of sending me outside to play, in order to get me out of her hair, would arm me out with a jar to catch bumblebees. That was okay until one day when I got stung, and also suddenly came to the conclusion that wild things should not be caught and kept in a jar to die, without food and oxygen. So, that cured me of that “hobby.”

Today, life is much more complicated and we fear so many things. We now know that water can be polluted, or can have organisms growing in it that can cause illness. We fear eating shortening, as it can truly “shorten” our lives by clogging arteries to the heart. We fear child molesters moving into our neighborhood. The list goes on and on and on.

The greater fears we have are more global. Who will be the one to set off the nuclear bomb that kills us all? On a national level, what if the Social Security becomes defunct? What then? In our own cities and towns, what if the property taxes rise beyond our ability to pay them?

In this world today, it takes courage just to face another day. It takes fearlessness to go to any public place that could potentially be rigged with explosives, even the bank, or the supermarket. Since September 11, 2001 we all look at the world, with one eye cocked, and we wonder, what next?

What’s worse is that none of us, as individuals, can have much of an impact on major issues facing this country, its involvements in other countries, global warming, or world peace.

This month, my first grandson will be born. I wonder what kind of earth he will inherit. A lot of things have changed since the early 1950s when I made my appearance here. I ponder how and why men have become so evil, so self-serving, and so callously disrespectful of the environment and each other. One would think that not all of us were humans. Some of us seem to be an aberrant form of martian, rather than a loving people.

This afternoon, I am thinking of all of the verses my mother sang to me or read to me, as a child. A lot of children’s literature is rife with symbolism, and some of that has to do with addressing fear. Little Red Riding Hood is a classic example of a fear-inducing story told to little kids.

Sheep or Wolves?

About twenty years ago, I saw an amusing cartoon in a local newsletter for spinners. It was the image of a sheep on skis, and the caption was “Downhill Skein.” With that image in mind, I began thinking of sheep, today.
Sheep appear in so many works of literature and art. At this moment, I am recalling a Murillo painting that is in the Prado Museum in Madrid. Called “St. John the Baptist As A Child,” the beautiful piece features the young boy and a sheep beside him. Of course, the Jesus is referred to as the “Good Shepherd.”

To survive, it seems that we may sometimes think that we have to act like wolves, with a “get them before they get us” attitude, and also a “get ahead” demeanor. My favorite thing to say is that “I already have a head and I don’t need another.”

Somewhere along the line, we have to let a little gentleness creep into our personalities. We have to become as demure and as trusting as sheep, and cultivate a calm nature. I’m not sure who stole the old saying, “Live and let live,” but I sure wish that it could be retrieved. At the same time, we must remain ever vigilant, and ready to do battle with the wolves who would violate us.

As always, I hope that my ramblings provide some food for thought. If not, then there is always the delete button. Maybe I think too much. At any rate, thank you for tuning in. I am pedaling fast to try to keep an optimistic attitude in light of world and national events and the overall state of affairs.

Today is Friday. Have a wonderful weekend!

Pat