Last night as I was watching 'The Antiques Roadshow' I was swamped by memories. Let me explain. Someone had brought in a beautiful 19th century quilt. The presenter was explaining how the ladies so long ago would quilt by using the width of their fingers as a marker or guide. Oh my....! I was instantly transported back to my early married years when my grandma taught me to quilt using the same sort of primitive technique.
Her rule was to quilt in straight lines [five tiny stitches per inch], with the exceptions of the corners and center of a quilt. She often times used a fancy swirly plastic template to make those areas 'fancy'. I spent the rest of the evening last night ignoring the TV and reminiscing about quilting with 'Ma' and the lady who worked for her for over 56 years, 'Blanche'.
Blanche and Ma were more than employer and employee. They were true friends. Christian saints who swapped Sunday hats with each other and argued goodnaturedly and incessantly about the 'right' way to cook. I can remember times when I'd go to visit my grandma, usually with my tiny baby daughter Allie, and we would all sit around her quilting frame and share a few quiet friendly hours.
My grandma was so proud of that quilting frame. It was nothing fancy, just a frame my grandpa had had built to her specifications. It sat on two rough saw horses at one end of her huge kitchen. It was not a thing of beauty by any means, but as I said, she adored it.
Ma made lots of quilted baby blankets, but her true art were the king sized quilts she made for each family member. She'd take us individually to the fabric store so we could pick out our colors and materials. Her quilts were all the same- simple four inch or five inch squares pieced together and then quilted. My own quilt was loved so much over the years it was in tatters. I finally had to wait until Jon went off to college to throw it away. He was very attached to that quilt LOL.
Anyhoo, as I was playing in the past last night, I remembered one very special day I quilted with Blanche and Ma. It was in the Fall and they had a washtub sized pot of turnip greens bubbling on the stove. If you're familiar with these greens, you know that when they cook they have a very distinctive & strong odor. I used to hate the smell of boiling turnips.
On that particular morning we sat at the quilt frame busy. Ma wore her trademark shiny polyester turquoise blue jogging suit with Grasshopper Keds, Blanche sported one of her turban-type head-wraps [she always managed to look both dignified and exotic wearing these], and I was attired in maternity hand me downs from one of my sympathetic neighbors. Obviously none of us were making a fashion statement that day.
After a few minutes, even with finger guards, my hands were getting sore. So I stopped for a moment and asked them each what was their favorite hymn. And as sometimes serendipity happens- we all began singing those old raw hymns. Now my grandma was well known to not be able to sing a lick. In fact she was worse than awful. But Blanche was in the Ladies' Choir at her church and she had a marvelous voice. We sang and sang until we sang ourselves completely out. We didn't sound that great, I'm sure, but just the act of singing together made the tunes memorable and sort of holy. After a final slow and soulful rendition of all the verses of 'Amazing Grace', we just sat there working- quietly content in the afterglow of all that humble praise.
Now, almost thirty years later, now I love the smell of turnip greens cooking. It always draws me back to that particular day. The day we three women- one elderly white lady, one capable & multi talented middle aged black lady, and one newly hatched completely insecure wife and mother- made kitchen music together.
Hope somewhere... someday... you get to make kitchen music with folks who mean as much to you as those precious ladies did to me. They've both gone on to join their Savior in heaven and now I can only visit with them in dreams, but I still hold fast to the sweet memory of the kitchen music we made together that day.
Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle. 
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