Month: March 2024

My ears perked up anytime Daddy or one of the “old timers” told family stories.  I have always had a passion for the history of our ancestors and intricate connections to other families and old pioneers. Anytime they started one of their tales they had my complete attention. I wasn’t quite as quick to listen when my mother spoke. She didn’t tell many family stories but when she did, they didn’t have the same pizazz of a storyteller as my dad, grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

One day when I was at my parents’ house, Mama took me into the sewing room and showed me a box. She opened the lid to reveal quilt blocks, taking each one out and talking briefly about each of the patterns. Each one looked like a miniature quilt. In the box was also a large piece of fabric she had selected for the backing. I’m sure she told me more about the finished squares, and I’m also sure I didn’t listen, and I’m sure that I wish I would have heard her tale.

Just a few hours before Mama’s death as I sat by her bedside, though I don’t know if she knew it, I told her I would finish the quilts that were left undone. There were at least two quilts for grandkids’ graduations to be finished, another box with a partially completed quilt, and a few unfinished projects.

One day while looking through some of her fabric and items in her sewing room, I found a little box containing 30 quilt blocks. Upon further thought, I remembered Mama showing it to me. What had Mama said? I didn’t remember the story of the individual squares, but I did remember that she wanted it made into a single quilt. Daddy knew nothing about the blocks – he didn’t listen to Mama either since he had selective hearing.  How I wish I had listened! It might have revealed the secret of the mystery quilt.

I had no idea how she intended to put the blocks together, so I began piecing them with black strips. But there was something odd. Fifteen of the blocks were a little bit smaller than the others.  That puzzled me especially since my mother was a perfectionist and would never intentionally make her blocks two different sizes. 

Now what? It required more time and effort, but I knew Mama wanted it completed and she had all the pieces just waiting to be finished. The bigger blocks couldn’t be cut down because it would mess up the individual designs. My only option was to “frame” the smaller blocks to make them bigger. After making the small blocks the same size as the larger ones, I added two strips of fabric pieces and sashing to sew the quilt squares together. I ironed the quilt top, grabbed the backing, and headed to the quilt shop to get the whole thing quilted. When I got it back, I decided to finish the edges with prairie points and binding. The mystery quilt looked good as it hung from the loft railing.

Since I couldn’t show the finished quilt to Mama, I decided to send a picture and the story of the mystery quilt to my aunt who was Mama’s sister and best friend. About two weeks later, I received a response from my aunt along with a photo of a quilt she had made. I was totally surprised to see her quilt contained identical blocks to Mama’s and she used black stripping as well.

Her note contained the rest of the story: The sisters decided to make a “sister quilt”…  well if the truth be told, I’m sure that Mama decided…… Both sisters were to make two identical blocks of 15 different blocks. Each sent their duplicate 15 blocks to the other. That way, they would have the exact same 30 squares and have matching quilts. The reason the blocks were different sizes was because one made theirs an “unfinished block” which is the size of the block plus the seam, while the other made a “finished block” which is the size of the block minus the seam. That information made the quilt take on a different meaning. The mystery was solved!

The quilt I put together, on the left, looks busier than my aunt’s. I added two rows of strips so the quilt would fit a bigger bed. If Mama would have had the opportunity to make the quilt, it would have looked just like my aunt’s – I’m sure of it! Look how neat my aunt’s quilt (on the right) looks. Those two sisters are expert seamstresses!

The shelves along the narrow aisles were crowded with stuff. Some stuff was junk to some, but treasures to others. I took one last look not finding what I wanted and weaved in and out of the crammed rows as I headed toward the front of the shop. About that time a pleasant looking man accompanied by two other people came through the door of the junk antique store. The gentleman looked up at me, flashed a big smile and said, “hello.” I returned the smile and the greeting. He walked toward me and asked me where he might find a particular item. My mind said one thing, but I responded with quite another.  “Well, I’m not sure, but if you ask the lady at the desk who works here, I’m sure she can help you.” He smiled again and said, “Oh, I thought you worked here.” My mind said, “I might look like an antique, but that doesn’t mean I work here.”

What’s up with that? It happens to me all the time.

I was in Wal-Mart a few weeks ago looking for anti-biotic ointment. A guy in obvious need of medical supplies walked up and stood beside me. He, too, was eyeing the multitude of choices of ointments, liquids, and creams. I looked at his arm dripping with blood and said, “It looks like you got in a fight with a chain saw and it won.” He proceeded to tell me his story and then asked me which product he should get. When I told him I was just looking myself he said, “I thought you worked here.” “Nope, I don’t work here, but I can tell you about some of this stuff. This is the original… this one tends to leave more of a scar… this one is better for deep cuts… use this one if it is a burn… and this one if it itches… this is a good brand of band aids…” In the middle of my Wal-Mart anti-biotic discourse, a lady walks up on my other side. She got in the conversation, “Oh, do you work here? I’m looking for….” My mind said, “What? Do I look like the Wal-Mart lady? Do I have on a blue vest? Do you see me wearing a name tag?” Instead, the words that came out of my mouth said, “No, I don’t work here. I just act like I know a lot. I was telling this gentleman about the anti-biotic ointment I would get and why.” She was satisfied and I helped her find what she was looking for.

These are not just random happenings. It seems that many places I go, someone thinks I work there. I’ve been in grocery stores where people ask, “Do you work here?” I usually answer, “No, but I’ll help you find what you need.” If I know where the item is, I will direct them or even go with them to look. I have helped ladies find the right makeup or shampoo, several men find items in the grocery aisles, and the list goes on. I really like being mistaken for “working here” in the fabric store. Many times, I just help someone and never tell them I don’t work there. I wonder if any of those people have gone back to store looking for the lady who helped them.

So, when you go in a store try to look smart and maybe someone will ask you, “Do you work here?” Don’t tell them any different. Just help them. They will think the establishment has upped its service and it will make your day!