I mentioned in my last post that we inherited precious patchwork quilts from our grandmothers. However, when we got married, my husband’s Grandma Fleagle made us two brand new quilts as wedding gifts. One was this rose pink and spring green bedspread pictured below, the other a classic Sunbonnet Sue pattern, predominantly turquoises and warm pinks.
On the bed in our first apartment in Seattle
I was so honored to receive these quilts: they represented countless hours spent appliqueing and hand-piecing the tops, then quilting the layers, each tiny hand stitch a testament to her skill, creativity, and love for her family. We were by no means the sole beneficiaries of her craft – the woman could definitely church out the quilts! She lived in western Kansas and wasn’t able to travel to the wedding in Alton, Illinois, so she had my mother-in-law deliver them on her behalf.
Grandma Fleagle with my husband at his college graduation
Little did we know that Grandma Fleagle wouldn’t be with us only nine months later. We were in the process of moving from Seattle back to the Midwest when we got the news she had died, so we made some route adjustments so we could arrive in Friend, Kansas in time for the funeral.
Relatives gathered in the big old frame farmhouse, and the upstairs bedrooms filled up with folks staying overnight. The next day, the daughters were going through the mounds of sewing goods and quilting notions, wondering what to do with it all. My mother-in-law suggested that since they and their daughters all had sewing machines, and since I did a lot of sewing, I should receive the Singer. It was agreed, but then they took it a step further and actually boxed up everything else to ship to me, too! The only trouble was that there was no address to which it could be sent – we were still in the process of relocating!
It was a couple of weeks after we landed in Des Moines, when several boxes were delivered to the tiny house we rented. I believe the contents of those boxes could have stocked half a small shop! There were multiple scissors and pins and needles and many thimbles. There were bobbins and tape measures and snaps and buttons. There was lace and rick-rack and seam binding and zippers. And mountains of spools of thread. Cigar boxes and fruitcake tins, filled with notions of all kinds, not to mention yard goods. There were even things I had to ask others to identify! (Tatting shuttles were new to me.) I guess a person wouldn’t want to get snowed in way out there on the high plains without adequate provisions.
Those supplies kept me stocked for a long, long time, and I appreciated being able to “shop” in my own sewing room. I was also hugely grateful to receive the sewing machine – I put that puppy to work for years and years to come. But as valuable as these things were to a cash-strapped newlywed, the absolute best find, hands down, tucked away among some hand-crocheted lace, was a tiny little volume entitled: Daily Texts with Verses of Hymns: Adapted for General Use and Suited for Every Year.
Apparently Grandma Fleagle had a routine: a daily text at the ready, for meditating upon while stitching quietly. Written with a nib and ink on the inside back cover of the wee book is a gracefully penned inscription: “Presented to Ralph Fleagle by his great Aunt Anne Knox, March 24th, 1886”. *
It is the oldest thing in our house. And a treasure.
- [Ralph is my husband’s great uncle, brother to Jake Fleagle of the Fleagle Gang, who is listed directly above Pretty Boy Floyd in the Wikipedia article on Depression Era Gangsters. More on these nefarious characters to come. Warning: not for the faint of heart. Perhaps Ralph should have spent more time meditating on the tiny book.]