Old quilts tell about times of our lives opinion: Sally Smith

I was at a quilt documentation Tuesday. My plan was to have my three quilts documented and leave quickly. (I was sure it was going to be uneventful… maybe even boring.)

Shortly after I arrived, though, I started asking questions (as journalists do) and began to listen to the stories behind the quilts — the years and years of history, the stories of the stitchers, the times of their lives.

One notetaker recalls that a couple brought a quilt with this story: the quilt was given to him by his grandmother who had made it. She told him it was for his wedding; he was eight at the time…

Another recalls that many of the quilts were sewn together with pieces of army uniforms — Boer War, Korean War, WWI, WWII…

Even another pointed out that many of the quilts were “like new,” no damage over the years…well-loved and tucked away, a family story and history.

There were 10 or 12 tables in the viewing room at Grenville Mutual Insurance in Kemptville; at each table was a notetaker with stacks of numbered file folders, and at the end of the day each folder held a story.

Quilt owners were in - vited to unfold their quilts across a table and then the telling started. There were large kingsize quilts and small baby-cot quilts; colours were every hue and tint of the rainbow — some subdued, some brilliant.

They were machine stitched, or hand-stitched or both, mostly the material was cotton, and if the quilt owners hadn’t made the quilt themselves then their mother, or grandmother, or even great-grandmother had.

I brought three quilts with me, all given by a friend who was cleaning out her mother’s house. My quilts are mostly blue and white, one has some turquoise in it, and each is a different pattern.

The biggest one fits a king-size bed and the pattern is “The Four Winds;” the other two are similar in size (maybe for twin beds) — one called “Wheel of Fortune” and the other had several descriptive names…Nosegay, Ice Cream Block (looks like an ice cream cone) or Bridal Bouquet. All were made of cotton or cotton lawn, a breathable cotton probably a little rougher than plain old cotton.

One of the experts in textiles from Kingston leaned her elbows on the table and carefully, and even-more-carefully, teased apart the backing of one of the well-worn quilts. She illustrated how old, used and threadbare the quilt was by carefully running a finger behind a torn/worn piece; her finger was very visible, it looked like a blurry but recognizable picture.

And she carefully pinched a wee bit of the batting, well-clumped and thinned through the years.

I could hear with my ‘eyes’ with this illustration that the quilt was old.

All of the women who looked at the quilts then folded them: they fold the quilt from flat, quilt pattern folded to the inside. First fold one edge at the one-third mark, then the other edge over that. Take a bottom edge of the folded piece and fold to the middle; do the same on the other edge. Then fold in half to make a square.

They store easily that way.

Never, I was told, keep in a plastic bag; use a cotton sheet or a pillowcase to wrap them.

This information was being collected at every table in the room.

After my three were examined and noted, I was given a small piece of mate- rial with my name (as owner), and confirmation that it was documented. I have still to sew the small oblong to the backs of the quilts but it’s on my to-do list. Looking back, I learned three valuable things that day: My quilts are older than I thought — 1910 or so (I thought 1960). Never wash them — spot clean them. And never, never let the dog sleep on them.