The Old Quilt

Today I saw a beautiful old quilt. Most people would not see the same beauty as I did. It was obviously made by hand, from each tiny square that was cut and sewn together to the intricate hand-quilting. The stitches were small and still very tight. It was quite worn and a bit tattered. Some of the material was very thin from its many years of use and the many washings it must have endured. The edges had become frayed, yet it still retained its scalloped edge. The pattern on the quilt top was the Double Wedding Ring, a difficult design when such tiny squares are used. The pieces of material could not have been more than one inch square. The colors were quite pastel, but I couldn’t tell if those were the original colors, or just what was left after so many years of use. I have made quilts with my mother, though none as intricate as this one. My mother and grandmother were given the ability to do this kind, not me. I usually mess something up or lose patience and give up. Perhaps as I get older, I’ll try again. Maybe then I’ll succeed.            

Quilts, especially older ones, are not only functional, but they are works of art. Many of the patterns have names that may be familiar to you if you ever slept under one of your grandmothers quilts - Jacob’s Ladder, Bow-tie, Log Cabin and the list goes on. There are those that really have no pattern at all, but are just as beautiful, like the Postage Stamp, the Crazy Quilt, and the good old Patchwork. An old tale says that if you are single, and you are the first to sleep under a new quilt, you will dream of your future mate.             

Material was often very hard to come by in years past. The majority of quilt tops were made from scraps of material from flour sacks and old clothing that could no longer be worn. My mother still has quilts that I recognize much of the material used in them - a piece of one of my old blouses, the summer curtains from the kitchen, daddy’s shirt, all sewn together like pieces of our lives.                  

Quilts were made by woman all over this country. Each area seemed to have its own patterns, colors, materials, and ways of making them. Some were made just for warmth; others were made as gifts for special occasions, such as the Double Wedding Ring one I saw today. I wondered if it had been a wedding gift so many years before. When I held this one in my hands today inside of a little antique shop, I wondered of its history, and questioned myself as to how it wound up in such a place. If it had been a gift, who had made it? How many generations had it been passed down like a family treasure? Who discarded it to where I had found it, and why?            

If you really look at it, you can see the love and the work that went into it. You can also see the sad reality of our time. Like many other things in this little shop, it was probably part of an estate, with the relatives wanting to discard and liquidate everything as quickly as possible so they could continue their busy lives. I can’t seem to get my mind off the old quilt. It’s almost like it’s trying to tell me something.            

You know, maybe it already has.