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Wednesday, July 30th, 2008

The longer I live, the more I believe Joni Mitchell’s words. We are, indeed, captives on a carousel of time. “We can’t return, we can only look behind, from where we came.” Like all good lyrics, these statements ring of truth.

In fact, we can look to a lot of musical lyrics to guide our lives or make sense of life itself. “One Step Forward, Two Steps Back,” – why, that is another true statement for most of us. Just when we think we are getting ahead, we find that life has taken a downturn in health or resources.

Recently, I needed postage stamps. Stepping up to the window, I asked for more of the Frank Sinatra’s commemorative stamps. They had sold out immediately, I was told. The old boy, famous for the line, “I did it my way,” still has appeal, after all these years.

We wonder if Marilyn Monroe were still alive, if she’d be getting Botox treatments. Sometimes, I believe, it is preferable that these adored icons die young. It preserves the memory of the loveliness of their youth … forever.

We never saw JFK with gray hair and a long white beard. Nothing wrong with gray hair. I have it myself. I hope to bypass the long white beard, however.

Those are all of my morning ramblings for now. The sun is shining and I’m going to try to find my leash and take myself for a walk. Silly me!

Patricia Lynne Cummings

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Wednesday, July 30th, 2008

Tonight, we attended an excellent lecture, at the Wright Museum, by Dr. James Kimble, Assistant Professor at Seton Hall University. He discussed imagery of dead soldiers in periodicals during a three month period of 1943 (World War II). This is the second year in a row that we heard Dr. Kimble speak. He is currently working on a new book that will be published in a year or two. His insight into propaganda events of WWII is stunning.

A couple of weeks ago, we attended a lecture/demonstration about how a woman (every woman) got dressed, in many layers of clothing, both summer and winter, in the 18th century. The couple, Adam and Mary Spencer, live in a house built in 1780, and participate in a lot of reenactments, from Fort Ticonderoga to Colonial Williamsburg. They brought along Linda Baumgarten’s wonderful book, that I’ve since purchased, but not had time to view. The meeting was at the Madison Historical Society. Coincidentally, I will be speaking at the September meeting.

There are so many events going on in New Hampshire, in every season of the year. I feel so lucky to live in a state with many historical societies and museums, not to mention antique shops which pseudo museums unto themselves.

I always love to learn, and I look at these museum programs as an enhancement of my education … because they are! Whenever I attend a lecture of any kind, it is my habit to take notes, an ingrained approach, to be sure.

Well, that is my update. I’m no longer calling around to find someone who has a “black pill.” My faith in humanity has been restored by several people who have been very helpful, responding to my plea for help. I’ll continue to hope that the rest of everything works out. Have a good Wednesday!

Patricia Lynne Cummings

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Monday, July 28th, 2008


Look closely and you will see the American flag on the left of the photo, and much devastation on the right side. Photo taken from the Northwood, NH side of the lake.

This report of a “funnel cloud,” i.e. “tornado” will not come as news to those of us who live in New Hampshire as it happened a few days ago. Today, we drove to Deerfield because it is the town where I grew up and I wanted to see if I could view any tornado damage from the road. Side roads where most of the damage occurred were being manned by Deerfield and Northwood police and only local traffic was allowed through.


Backwater of Northwood Lake shows trees blown over, on the edge.
On North Road in Deerfield, we could see trees devoid of their branches and many of them pushed right over, heavy roots upended. The most sickening site of all is the one seen below. I believe that this must have been the former, two story, Log home of Brenda and Harley Stevens. When the storm hit, unexpectedly, the structure collapsed, killing Brenda and injuring her husband and grandson. She was the only fatality of the violent storm that tore through four communities in a short time.

Machinery is already at work, removing the rubble of what once was (presumably) the home of Harley and Brenda Stevens of Deerfield, NH.


A final view across the water, from the roadside in Northwood. More damage from the tornado.

Hearing about this tragedy makes me ever-mindful of the fragility of life. One does not expect to be living one moment and have one’s life snuffed out the next minute. This past weekend, parishioners were attending a church service in Tennessee, listening to children sing in a rehearsed performance. Suddenly, a gunman burst in and shot a man dead. Three men (heroes) jumped the assailant and pinned him down until the police could arrive. They were kind enough not to take the gun and shoot the madman in the head, while they had a chance.

Tragedies happen, whether man-made or as a result of the whims of nature, and they should make us all stop and ponder the “what-ifs.” I will leave those thoughts to your imagination. It was sobering to see my old town torn up in this manner. There is a lesson to be learned from everything in life and some lessons are just too hard, especially when they involve loss of life.

Patricia Cummings

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Friday, July 25th, 2008

Pat at Sculptured Rocks

Pat at Sculptured Rocks, Groton, NH

This morning, before it became too hot, Jim and I took a ride to Groton to see a geologic rock formation carved by nature, thousands of years ago. Through this gorge, called “Sculptured Rocks,” runs the Cockermouth River. Cockermouth is a name that originated in England. Most of the settlers of this area were English or Scots-Irish.

Sculptured Rocks 2

The morning was beautiful and clear. The woods were wet from yesterday’s torrential rains. I enjoyed seeing the various forest plants, the large mushrooms, the ferns, and the moss. This spot is a local swimming hole for those who want to cool off. Emerging from viewing the rushing waters and rock formations, we found wild low bush blueberries to pick and eat, near the road.

The cool air coming off the water was refreshing. We followed up this experience with a stop at the Nature Trail in Hebron, owned by the Audubon Society. We saw no birds, just heard a crow, but underfoot, there were two tiny toads, on the just mowed field trail. All in all, we had a pleasant time.

Patricia Cummings

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Friday, July 25th, 2008

Today, I had the distinct privilege of reading two, 5 year diaries of the woman whose life I have been intently studying since March. Just when I thought that I might be getting close to being ready to create a Bibliography, I realize that I have more to do. This document is not officially a report any more. Rather, it is an “e-book,” as the text exceeds 100 pages, in addition to the several hundred pages plus of “quilt charts.” Reading the diaries elicited a verbal “Wow” on quite a few occasions.

Entries mention when she created various charts, and where she gave quilt, bird, and Bible lectures, and other details that are just too extraordinary for words.

I am the recipient of additional photos of Ellen Webster’s family members, and they are wonderful in a way that only old photos can be.

This will be a continuing marathon for me to collate all the new information and to wind down toward completing this project. I can not remember when I have had so much fun with a research project, and I am eagerly anticipating everyone’s enjoyment of the final product.

Patricia Cummings

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Tuesday, July 22nd, 2008

What do you think of when you think of the “West?” Or, do you think of it, at all? We have just been watching the PBS series, “The West,” produced by Ken Burns. I must say that it has been an eye-opening experience. I have lost count of the number of social injustices, not to even mention the senseless slaying of the American Indians, their placement on reservations, and the outrageous slaughter of Buffalo, for monetary gain, for sport, and to deprive Native Americans of their main source of food, tepee material, and warm covers.

This summer, I saw a few Buffalo in a zoo. They are large, rather sedentary creatures. The show states that if one of them is hurt, the whole herd gathers around, making each of them easy for the hunter’s gun to “pick off.”

I become enraged at injustice, and that is pretty visible at every turn, when we look at the history of western expansion.

I lived in California in Joshua Tree country, up with the Roadrunners and rattlesnakes. We could see the snow-capped mts. from our desert home, and we could hear the winds that would blow piles of sand right through the closed windows.

I lived in Arizona, and saw the beauty of Snapdragons growing in the Japanese Gardens, and climbed to the top of South Mountain that overlooks the Valley of the Sun (or was it Sun Valley)- it’s a lifetime ago!

When I think of the “west,” I like to recall going over the border into Mexico, and horsebackriding along the sands of a beach at Ensenada, while watching the sparkling waters, glowing in the sun.

I don’t like to think about American troops hunting Pancho Villa. I don’t like to consider the diseases along the wagon trail, every malady from measles to cholera. I don’t like to think about how much the Chinese were hated, merely for working harder than any of the other gold diggers during the Gold Rush Days of ’49.

I think we have come along way. I also believe that we can never fully appreciate the present, until we at least look at the past, although much of what happened we can never fully grasp. We would have had to have lived then. That’s not to say that we cannot turn a critical eye to historical topics, as we try to make sense of events.

In my dreams of the “west,” I’ll be remembering the Mourning Dove and her nest in the Saguaro cactus at the Botanical Gardens in Phoenix. I will recall taking my young son (who now has a young son of his own) to the Phoenix Zoo, in a stroller. I’ll ponder the wonderment of walking along my own street and seeing large Prickly Pear cacti and their fruits.

And, because God gives us thorns, as well as roses, I will never forget a neighbor who desperately wanted us to convert to his religion. He would customarily “gift” us with his homemade Grapefruit jelly. He would watch out the window and the minute he’d see us, he’d run right out with yet another jar of the delicious jelly. By the time we moved away, we must have had several gallons of the stuff. More than anything, it became a contest as to whether we could get in the car, in the carport, and drive away before he would nail us for an hour, with his preaching.

Mostly, I’ll try to keep in mind the “west” as I knew it for about five years. Series such as the one we are watching (and which I bought) provides an historical perspective. Thinking about our roots, as a country, is never a bad thing. This is another wonderful series that is associated with Ken Burns, a New Hampshire film producer whose name is linked to quality documentaries. I highly recommend “The West.”

Patricia Cummings

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Saturday, July 19th, 2008

In an antiques store this past week, I picked up a little booklet that contains a play that was published in 1924. I haven’t gotten beyond the lengthy copyright page. Since this was published before 1929, I can share it with you.

“The Patchwork Quilt”

Reprinted by permission of the author and the publisher, Charles Scribner’s Sons, from the volume, Six Plays.

COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book without a valid contract for production first having been obtained from the publisher, confers no right or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity.

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance, representation, production, recitation, or public reading, or radio broadcasting may be given except by special arrangement with SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York, one week before the date when the play is given.

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play: “Produced by special arrangement with SAMUEL FRENCH of New York.”

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any infringement of the author’s rights, as follows :

“SECTION 4966: – Any person publicly performing or representing any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year.” – U.S. Revised Statutes : Title 60, Chap. 3.

Ed. Note: I was waiting to hear that said offenders would have one ear cut off and be put in the stocks for two weeks, followed by a jail term. I guess the people who decide such legalities were feeling particularly benevolent that day.

To tell you the truth, after reading the whole disclaimer, I have not had the time or energy to go back to this small pamphlet, to read the play. I’m sure many people today would be pleased, if only a fifty dollar penalty were required for violating copyright.

Patricia Cummings

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Saturday, July 12th, 2008

Most people don’t want to think about their last minutes on this earth. Some people have to think about the last moments of another person’s existence. This week, I received an e-mail from a missionary friend in South America. He told me that a friend of his had been very ill and she was in the hospital. He went to see her and he wanted to comfort her and pray with her. However, there was so much commotion in the room, he told her he would come back. He felt like hollering – “Don’t you understand that she is dying?” There was no peace to be found, and when he went back, he found that she had already wandered off “to the other side.”

In the old days, people were not shoved into an institution because they were sick or they were dying. The family cared for its own. Today, if anything “happens,” a person is shuffled off by ambulance, only to be treated with invasive and non-invasive tests and treatments. But, where are those of spiritual strength who could help to ease the mental suffering of medical ordeals? They are not to be found. We are left to be “numbers” while the family stays at a distance, or purposely keeps away.

Today, we are afraid of seeing someone die. Everything is so sanitized and neat and tidy when death occurs other than “home.” The undertaker whisks the body away, never to be seen again. Cremation is a cheap alternative, not that the results of passing on are inexpensive, these days.

What we have lost is the spiritual meaning when Death comes knocking. I have never, personally, been witness to another person’s demise. However, I envision that it could be a lot more meaningful without hospital personnel running around, trying to “save” a life. In some instances, a person has lived a long and full life and is tired and really, quite ready to “go.” Prolonging a life, in that instance, may seem like a moral imperative, yet, for the patient, it is not in their best interest.

Since none of us wants to leave life prematurely, it’s a tough question to ask, or to answer, but here goes? How would you prefer to live your last moments? Would you like loved ones present? Or, would you like to be alone? Would you like to hear silence or music? Would you like to be attended to by family, or the medical staff of a home or hospital? None of us can predict the future, and people sometimes die in very strange ways, like choking on a cornflake or piece of steak, having a fatal reaction to latex, or peanut butter, or being bitten by a bear or poisonous snake. There are so many agents that could possibly do us in, it’s a wonder we live as long as we do!

I guess the key to happiness is not to worry about such topics. However, from time to time, I ponder the spiritual sanctity of the final moments that all humans must face. I can only hope that I will have a caring friend, at that time, who will help me to consider eternity, and what my life may have meant. Now, back to more sunny matters.

Patricia Cummings

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Wednesday, July 9th, 2008

Interesting Bed Cover

The bed cover you see above was languishing in the corner of an antique store and begging me to purchase it. Actually, my first impression was that I did not want it. As any two color quilt would, it photographs well. The tufts of yarn that hold it together create a secondary interest. The main motif, for some reason, reminds me of a Ship’s Wheel. However, I have not had time to research any published names for this pattern.

We purchased this on the same day that we bought the spanking clean, never used, nineteenth century, sixteen-patch, hand-quilted quilt from a Connecticut estate. The two textiles are decidedly different in workmanship, but one quality that they share in common is that are both finished. That’s a good word – “finished.”

Nineteenth century browns, double pinks, and chrome yellow prints were used to create this 19th century gem.
Hope you enjoy seeing this kinds of pieces of the past.

Patricia Cummings

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Wednesday, July 9th, 2008

People who know that I am a writer often express a wish that they, too, could do what I do. I am going to give some unsolicited advice that will help you a great deal.

1) Write about a subject you know well. Your editor and the general public can spot a phoney, who is just trying to “wing it,” a mile away.

2) Pay attention to the basics. If you are writing about people or places, for heaven’s sake, report their names correctly, also spelling them correctly. There is nothing that makes living people more sad or upset than to read their name, misspelled in a print venue, and there is nothing that makes the family of a deceased person more upset to read a misprinted name, either.

3) Give strict attention to details. They matter more than you know. Life is made up of details. If you think they don’t matter, don’t become a writer.

4) If you are giving your opinion, state that it IS your own opinion. Avoid the use of “We” or “our,” as in “We think,” or it is “our opinion,” when you are providing ONLY your opinion. At the same time, do not say, “It is said,” unless you qualify who “says” this. Whenever one writes, “They say,” it appears that the use of “they” is just another disguise for a personal opinion. My father used to exclaim, “Who is “they?” Name names.”

5) If you are presenting data that you did not generate, cite the specific source where you found the information. If not, you will be plagiarizing which is just another word for stealing someone’s “intellectual property.”

6) Know copyright law. Protect your own work, but also respect the copyright rights of others.

If you ask to “borrow” a photo, and the answer is “no,” for whatever reason, accept the situation and move on, without harassing the party you’ve asked for a favor.

7) Spell correctly, and use correct grammar. You know, someone once told me that anyone can write. All that is needed is a “good editor.”

I am here to tell you that your work will be preferred by that good editor, if he/she does not have to spend hours re-writing it, or researching your statements to determine if the information is true and correct. Always cite books, journals, or another other source, as I said before! Document everything!

8) Content that is compelling is imperative in order to draw readers. Gather photos or illustrations or even graphs that will make your points clear.

9) Meet editorial deadlines, ahead of time, if possible.

10) Write in a manner that flows, has connective words, and does not change topics too abruptly.  Consider your audience when you write, but mostly, just write as well as you can, using words most appropriate to the situation.

To BE a writer, is to choose a solitary path. It is impossible to write well while surrounded by crowds of people. You must have enough time alone to think, and to rewrite, rewrite, and rewrite, for as many times as it takes to create a high-quality manuscript.

Check your facts, use your computer’s spell-check function, and if possible, have a friend read any manuscript you generate. Sometimes inadvertent small errors can creep in, and those the computer can not pick up.

Good luck!

Patricia Cummings, columnist for magazine since 1999, and well-published in many venues

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Tuesday, July 8th, 2008

Good mail consists of something I have ordered, a present that is sent to me, or anything other than an ad. Today’s mail brought three books about Medieval textiles, and magazine!

Some folks received their copy on Saturday, and today, I’ve been receiving nice e-mails and phone calls from some people who thoroughly approve of the article. Only I know that I’ve discovered some fascinating additional material since some of the photos were published. Those couple of updates will be on the e-book that will be marketed via CD by the museum.

I just keep learning more each day, and adding information. At some point, soon, I’m going to have to “call it a wrap” as they say. There are more than 300 pages already.

The nicest thing about research is that I learn so much. First I find one piece of a puzzle, then another, then another and all the pieces end up making the whole story.

Some facts that are discovered may, at first, not seem to quite fit. Yet, in the end, every piece of information is significant and adds up to the whole view.

This project has meant more to me than any other research project I’ve ever done. I became so wrapped up in trying to find out everything I could about Ellen Webster, and in the end, I realize that the more I learned, the more I truly like her and admire all she did.

This labor of love, and I do not say that lightly because I have been running around the countryside to do some of this research, or I’ve been reading or writing for 10-14 hours per day since March, with the exception of three days that I can recall. Even when I was struck with a (temporary) case of Bell’s Palsy in April and May, I was still here at the computer, working as best I could.

I am so happy that everyone I asked for information was so ready to lend advice. It may seem like a trite saying, “It takes a village,” but in this case, it has taken a number of “villages” for me to be able to round up some really neat brain candy. Do you get excited when you learn something new? I certainly do! Oh, and of course, the magazine is showing 12 images of more than 200 and they will all be on the disc. I’m sure you will want to add both the magazine and the CD to your collection.

This particular work is really hard to describe because it is so comprehensive. With the viagra information, in hand, I am just starting to create a Bibliography. All I can tell you is that “I’m dancing as fast as I can!” I can’t wait to get this information into your hands, so that you can enjoy it. I’ll keep you posted, and if I seem to harp on this subject, it’s because it is a totally riveting one and I’m so happy to be able to share all that I’ve learned.

Patricia Cummings

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Sunday, July 6th, 2008

Every now and then, a really heartwarming story comes through on the Internet. I particularly liked this one, based in Reno, Nevada.

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Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008

Sixteen Patch Block

An antique quilt from Connecticut features this design as one “block.”
I think of “Sixteen Patch” quilts as a grown-up version of the Nine Patch, traditionally the first kind of pieced projects that many little girls attempted. This particular quilt can be seen, in its entirety, on the front page of our website, at the moment. When I laid eyes on this nineteenth century quilt, I noticed how “clean” and unblemished it looked. I liked the wide cheddar-print borders, and then I could see how nicely the quilt had been hand-quilted with diagonal lines of stitches.

Quilts do not have to be extraordinarily contrived to be pleasing to the eye. This quilt, though apparently never used, was made for comfort, and a certain home-y comfort, at that.

We buy quilts because we like them. In this case, I was drawn to all of those typical nineteenth century colors:  double pink, manganese brown, Hershey brown, and others that make my heart sing.

On that particular day, that quilt and two others just happened to “follow me home.”

Patricia Cummings

Visit the to see the whole quilt.