It's Done! Well, almost

The hand quilting is all done and now I have to put the binding on.  So close to getting it on my bed for good.

Click here to see what quilts I saw today that belong to my grandmother.

My First Quilt

Natalie over at Cinderberry Stitches was promoting a quilt parade that was started by Camille and Carrie where you show your first quilt and your lates quilt and tell something that you learned along the way.

I honestly can't ever remember my first quilt. I was in elementary school when I started sewing squares together and embriodering on my bell bottoms (a beach scene!). My first of everything was usually given to my mother. My first cross stitch, pencil drawing, quilling, writing, & quilting. She has a whole wall of them.

Most everything I make is given away. Recently, my brother and his family were downsizing and had a huge yard sale and one of the first wall hangings I had made was in the sale (has to be 20 years old), I bought it back and gave it to a friend of mine. It was a Lone Star done in shapes of purple. I noticed that it puckered in the center were all the points came together. Which was okay since something can be sat on it or hung stretched out. I see a lot of puckers in this and the purple has faded.

My current project, which has actually been a project of some 10 years now and very close to be finished is a Log Cabin in the barn raising pattern. I machine pieced each block and then hand pieced the blocks together and have been hand quilting this king size quilt. In the dark areas I have 1 inch grides. The back is beautiful, if I do say so myself.

What have I learned? I want to do too much. I don't have time to do all I want to do. I want to quilt like my grandmother did, slow and easy, savoring each stitch. I want my quilts to be cherished, so it's okay if I see them on the floor with babies crawling on them or on the beach for a family picnic or as a tent in the living room.

You can never have too many scraps or too many patterns. Never promise to work up the patterns you have before you buy a new one. Always...always...touch the material.

Papa's Suit Coats

On a recent visit with my Aunt Lucille (Lewis), she asked if I wanted this crazy quilt that she remembers her mother (my grandmother) making when she was a little girl. She was going to cut it up and make smaller items out of it for her children. Thankfully, she never got around to this project.

The quilt is made from my grandfather's suit coats. Some are dark blue, black and pin stripped. She cut squares, sewed them together and then did the embroidery over them. It's a very heavy quilt and there are some off colors around the border where she ran out of material.

My mother asked if I was going to cut it up....NO WAY. This is a treasure for me. I touch it and instantly remember by grandfather and his suit coat for going to church. On the trip home from my aunt's, my father started telling stories about Papa.

William David Lewis (WD) was a sharecropper along the Tennessee River, mostly in Perry County, TN. The family was finally able to buy their own farm when Papa's brother, Tipton Brown Lewis, was killed during WWI and they received money from the government. (As a side note, my nephew recently named his son after this brother.) Papa served in the same war, but never saw action after he developed phenomena and lost one lung.

Papa delivered my father when he was born at home and had to tell my aunt that she was not dieing, only having her menstrual cycle.

Papa worked in a factory as a night guard. Daddy said that Papa would come home from work and go to church. It was Daddy's job to wake him up if he started to fall asleep. Papa never worked for more than 75 cents an hour. Papa also went to school to be an accountant. As poor as my grandparents were, my parents still had to borrow money from them to buy the land that we still live on.

After my dad moved to Nashville, when he was 18, my grandparents finally got a house "in town" with running in-door plumbing. They lived there until they both died. There was also an outhouse on the property that my grandfather continued to use until he was too weak to walk outside. He developed gangrene in his legs when I was in high school. The doctor said he should have both legs amputated but Papa refused to have the surgery and wanted to die with his legs on. He lived 3 more years, walked again, and the gangrene was healed. He died from other issues when he was 86.

He was at home when he died. He woke my grandmother up and asked her if she saw the beautiful man standing at the foot of the bed. She didn't see Him, but he did and went to eternity with Him.

I have a vivid memory of my father and my grandfather kneeling before the church as they were ordained as deacons together. I was only about 4 years old at the time and I am so thankful God allowed me to keep that memory. If he were alive today, he would be 112. He was born in 1897 and knew people that had fought in the Civil War. Family legend has it that his great grandmother was kidnapped from the Indians as they passed through Tennessee on the Trail of Tears. Was it true? We have no idea, but as he grew weaker, he began to talk about her and said they were told as child never to mention it. And our family definity has some strong Indian bloodlines from somewhere, with their jet black hair, black eyes, and dark skin.

One of Papa's brothers was arrested for running moonshine during the "dry" years. He was in prison so much, he asked for a job there and ending up retiring as a guard. Another brother also saw "a beautiful man" right before he passed away.

Papa never had favorites in his grandchildren. He wouldn't force you to talk to him. He didn't hand out trinkets or cash to get us to love him. He was simply there. Willing to swing if you wanted to swing on the porch. Willing to twiddle his thumbs with you until you were in a better mood. He worked in the yard and worked in the garden and was happy if you would work with him.

His home was our (the grandkids) haven where we would spend weeks at a time with them. He supported my grandmother in all her ministries and learned from her what a tithe was. He wasn't loud, just a quiet man that we loved.

Their house, that I remember them in, was bought by the church next door and now the bedrooms of my grandparents are the studies of the pastor. There is a huge cross in the year drapped in purple. I somehow believe that they would like that.

Family Photos

Spending time with my grandmother this week reminded me of how fast the times go by and how quickly we are without those we love. Grannie will be 96 this May. She's lived through the depression, the 20's, the dust storms of Texas, wars, good times and evil times.

Mildred Waldean McPeak Carathers - what a name. She knew my grandfather was her man when he showed up on a first date with a quilt pattern - Elmer D Carathers - the D doesn't stand for anything. They eloped to Mexico and then came home and went back to their family homes and didn't tell anyone they were married. Months later, a relative that lived near the border was visiting and asked Grannie's mother why no one told them Mildred was getting married.

Seems the marriage was posted in a local paper down south.

When Papa was on a train going to military training, he passed through Nashville. He fell in love with the trees and when he got out of the military training, he moved his young family from Texas to Tennessee. But even today...Texas is still home to Grannie.

Here's some photos (poor quality) that I took pictures of this week. Now that I know my daughter's copier can scan pictures, I'll borrow Grannie's books and scan the pictures.

I've started with the Carathers' family, added some Lewis pictures, some McPeak pictures, and some pictures I took at Grannie's yesterday of her talents. Her real talent is quilting, but that is what this whole blog about. If you would like to see some pictures of quilts, just scan through the posts.