Something Rather Lovely Happened
One of the best things about owning a quilt store is the endless stream of wonderful people who walk through our doors. Early on, I became friends with an older woman named Louise Washington (“Everybody calls me Granny”). She is a positive, interesting person and we became fast friends. She always likes to introduce me as her granddaughter since she is African American and I’m not, just to see the confusion!
Being me, I decided Granny needed a dog so I got her a rescued mostly-Jack-Russell she named Scrappy and they are best pals. She of course shared her stories of Scrappy with her mother, who was in her 90’s and lived in Buffalo. Granny is good about providing pictures, etc., and her mother got kind of attached to him long distance. I found a china necklace with a Jack Russell on it and Granny wears it all the time…a true love story.
When Granny’s mother got ill, I kept Scrappy and she went to Buffalo to stay at her mother’s bedside in the ICU. Day after day they talked, her mom rested, and eventually began to decline.
One day she said “Louise, where’s Scrappy?”
“He’s at home, Mom,” Louise said.
“But he’s my dog and I’d really like to see him”
Gently Louise said, “Don’t you remember? He’s my dog at home?”
Her mother was puzzled. “I know he’s yours but I kind of feel like he’s mine? Can I wear the necklace with his picture on it? I want to feel him close to me.”
Louise was a bit upset to have to say that her Mother wasn’t allowed to wear jewelry, especially a necklace, in the ICU.
Just then, the social worker happened by and heard the conversation. “Why don’t you loan me the necklace a minute and I’ll be right back,” she said.
In a few minutes, she was back with an expanded photocopy of the picture, which she taped to the side rail of the bed.
“Oh Louise, now I can have my own picture of my Scrappy,” she said. Granny didn’t correct her.
After that, Granny’s mother rarely took her eyes off the photograph. She would go to sleep smiling back at the typical Jack Russell grin on the face of Almost Scrappy.
One night, when the nursing staff came in to check on her, she was gone. Her open hand lay on the rail where Scrappy’s picture was taped. She had crossed over comforted by the very picture of unquestioning love.
Granny was so happy to have provided that last bit of comfort to her mother. “I left her in Scrappy’s care. He took her home to the Lord.”
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Remembering Edith
The first memory I have of my mother’s friend Edith Rhodes, was when I was in the first day of the first grade at Immaculate Conception School and I took the wrong bus home. I got off at the first stop and called home. Since my mother didn’t have a car, Edith came and got me in a lumbering, black, ancient car (pre WWII) she called “the machine.”
I was so glad to see her face, weathered and seamed even then. As usual, she wore men’s trousers and a blouse she had sewn herself from donated quilt scraps, a montage of pale patterns of no particular relationship. Her thick gray hair was chopped off by her own hand and no makeup had ever touched her typically Appalachian face . Good humor was her only ornament. She lived across the street from us in Kettering Ohio, and so she delivered me safely home, having driven the whole way at about 10 miles an hour.
Her husband, a railroad man, was dead, her son grown and gone and my Mom was her “adopted” daughter. My mother was raised without a mother and Edith taught her
a thousand things about housekeeping…all of them thrifty. She also restarted my Mom’s childhood interest in quilting, all by hand of course. Both Mom and Edith had treadle machines, but would not dream of using them for quilting.
Everyone gave Edith old fabrics and rags. I remember one quilt made of the cut off sleeves of shirts. Some wife had shortened her husband’s long sleeved shirts when they wore out at the elbow…voila a quilt! Edith was from the hardscrabble hills of Kentucky and everything in her life was utilitarian. Her house was plain and simple, her garden had only those things that grew without a lot of help…mostly tomatoes. She cared nothing for food and spent her spare time smoking and quilting and watching whatever came on t.v. When Mom was buried by her three kids under five years old she would send me to Edith’s where I would sort quilt pieces and blab nonstop.
We moved, Edith moved, we went our separate ways until one day when I was visiting my Mom and we decided to try to find her. We made some calls and found a friend
who said Edith had last lived in the hamlet of Pulse, Ohio. Mom and I piled in the car and took off, not sure how to locate her. It was my Mom who had the bright idea of going to the town’s only Laundromat and asking if anyone knew a quilter named Edith Rhodes and sure enough, someone gave us directions.
There was “dear old Edith” in a trailer parked in someone’s back yard. Every inch of the trailer was stuffed with quilt scraps, sorted and piled according to some mysterious system. Edith was hand quilting and watching “The Price is Right” and pleased as punch to see us. She was wizened and nut-brown (she claimed Indian blood) and her coarse hair stood almost on end. Her numerous cats lounged under the trailer, sustained only by their rations of government handout cheese and peanut butter, and the baby rabbits attracted to the tomato patch.
She still had her ancient car, now brush painted robin’s egg blue, by Edith of course.
“Oh Edith, is there anything I can do for you or get for you?” my Mom asked.
“What else could I use?” Edith replied, her voice deep and raspy. “I’ve got everything already.”
Those words hit me like a tidal wave. I was a yuppie with a BMW who wanted everything all the time in every color and here was a woman I would classify as poor who was utterly content. You meet the Buddha in the strangest places.
One last time, maybe ten years later, we found Edith in another small town in Ohio. Her raspy voice had turned into a hacking cough, but she was still the same. She rented a little 4 room house , and still slept in the bed her parents had used in Kentucky, their stern portraits hung over the headboard. The bare living room had only her couch and t.v. and a coffee table with a little lip around it. Every inch of the table was stuffed with threads, all within arm’s reach. Edith had slowed down a lot, and was preparing to visit her son in Florida. She sold us all the quilts she had to finance the trip, which would be her last.
Her cats lounged in the kitchen playing with government issue raisins and the heavy peace of the simple life hung over her old house. I could hear the bugs whirring in the heat and smell the smashed tomatoes she threw out the kitchen door for the “varmints” in the neighborhood. It struck me that she lived a life that would have been much the same even a hundred years ago. What a contrast with the frantic pace I maintained!
One of Edith’s quilts is on my bed. Her utter self reliance and self sufficiency still seem to me remarkable. I often think of her. In my heart, I still think I may live the way she did eventually. My husband and I have offered to sell our house to our son, fully furnished . Some day we may crank up the “machine” and head away, only my fabric and dogs stuffed in the back.
Until then, may the peace of Edith be with you.
The first memory I have of my mother’s friend Edith Rhodes, was when I was in the first day of the first grade at Immaculate Conception School and I took the wrong bus home. I got off at the first stop and called home. Since my mother didn’t have a car, Edith came and got me in a lumbering, black, ancient car (pre WWII) she called “the machine.”
I was so glad to see her face, weathered and seamed even then. As usual, she wore men’s trousers and a blouse she had sewn herself from donated quilt scraps, a montage of pale patterns of no particular relationship. Her thick gray hair was chopped off by her own hand and no makeup had ever touched her typically Appalachian face . Good humor was her only ornament. She lived across the street from us in Kettering Ohio, and so she delivered me safely home, having driven the whole way at about 10 miles an hour.
Her husband, a railroad man, was dead, her son grown and gone and my Mom was her “adopted” daughter. My mother was raised without a mother and Edith taught her
a thousand things about housekeeping…all of them thrifty. She also restarted my Mom’s childhood interest in quilting, all by hand of course. Both Mom and Edith had treadle machines, but would not dream of using them for quilting.
Everyone gave Edith old fabrics and rags. I remember one quilt made of the cut off sleeves of shirts. Some wife had shortened her husband’s long sleeved shirts when they wore out at the elbow…voila a quilt! Edith was from the hardscrabble hills of Kentucky and everything in her life was utilitarian. Her house was plain and simple, her garden had only those things that grew without a lot of help…mostly tomatoes. She cared nothing for food and spent her spare time smoking and quilting and watching whatever came on t.v. When Mom was buried by her three kids under five years old she would send me to Edith’s where I would sort quilt pieces and blab nonstop.
We moved, Edith moved, we went our separate ways until one day when I was visiting my Mom and we decided to try to find her. We made some calls and found a friend
who said Edith had last lived in the hamlet of Pulse, Ohio. Mom and I piled in the car and took off, not sure how to locate her. It was my Mom who had the bright idea of going to the town’s only Laundromat and asking if anyone knew a quilter named Edith Rhodes and sure enough, someone gave us directions.
There was “dear old Edith” in a trailer parked in someone’s back yard. Every inch of the trailer was stuffed with quilt scraps, sorted and piled according to some mysterious system. Edith was hand quilting and watching “The Price is Right” and pleased as punch to see us. She was wizened and nut-brown (she claimed Indian blood) and her coarse hair stood almost on end. Her numerous cats lounged under the trailer, sustained only by their rations of government handout cheese and peanut butter, and the baby rabbits attracted to the tomato patch.
She still had her ancient car, now brush painted robin’s egg blue, by Edith of course.
“Oh Edith, is there anything I can do for you or get for you?” my Mom asked.
“What else could I use?” Edith replied, her voice deep and raspy. “I’ve got everything already.”
Those words hit me like a tidal wave. I was a yuppie with a BMW who wanted everything all the time in every color and here was a woman I would classify as poor who was utterly content. You meet the Buddha in the strangest places.
One last time, maybe ten years later, we found Edith in another small town in Ohio. Her raspy voice had turned into a hacking cough, but she was still the same. She rented a little 4 room house , and still slept in the bed her parents had used in Kentucky, their stern portraits hung over the headboard. The bare living room had only her couch and t.v. and a coffee table with a little lip around it. Every inch of the table was stuffed with threads, all within arm’s reach. Edith had slowed down a lot, and was preparing to visit her son in Florida. She sold us all the quilts she had to finance the trip, which would be her last.
Her cats lounged in the kitchen playing with government issue raisins and the heavy peace of the simple life hung over her old house. I could hear the bugs whirring in the heat and smell the smashed tomatoes she threw out the kitchen door for the “varmints” in the neighborhood. It struck me that she lived a life that would have been much the same even a hundred years ago. What a contrast with the frantic pace I maintained!
One of Edith’s quilts is on my bed. Her utter self reliance and self sufficiency still seem to me remarkable. I often think of her. In my heart, I still think I may live the way she did eventually. My husband and I have offered to sell our house to our son, fully furnished . Some day we may crank up the “machine” and head away, only my fabric and dogs stuffed in the back.
Until then, may the peace of Edith be with you.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The ballad of Annie and Tom
As many of you know, last year we lost our dog Earl, a noble dog, as so many are.
I tried for a long time to get by on just two dogs. It really did work better logistically and don’t get me started on the folly of having dogs in the store! I don’t believe in it, but I just can’t help it. I’m addicted to dogs.
Then one day I was in my favorite second hand store, A Classy Flea, and I heard one of the women (who has a boxer rescue group) talking about the doggie glut.
“I could manage one more,” I mused. “But I really don’t want a boxer.”
“No problem!” she chirped. “My sister runs a Cocker Spaniel rescue group!”
Oh dear. Open mouth, insert dog.
Now my husband has a little history with Cockers. When he was a boy, he adored his Cocker. Unfortunately, his stepfather, who was truly mentally ill, became angry one day and gave the dog away. To this day, Tom’s mother doesn’t know why she didn’t stand up to her then husband (later divorced.) But Tom never saw his dog again.
So of course I had to look at the website.
Oh my goodness! Beautiful Spaniels one after another. A particularly beautiful Springer-Cocker mix with freckles. Joyous, lovely dogs one and all.
And one rather scruffy black and white flopper named Annie. My mother, whose name was Anna, was called Annie by her family, so of course that was that! The dog Annie had been on the streets quite a while, had been covered with mange, and was a wee bit sad, so of course we contacted the group right away.
Dog day. I was so excited, Allie was crazed, Tom was bemused. (I think he was a bit afraid to fall in love with another Cocker.)
The guy from the rescue group pulled up and opened his car door. Imagine our shock when this glamorous, perfectly groomed Cocker arrived, complete with bows over her ears. She was unearthly beautiful with fat over sized white paws and a dusting of white on her muzzle. She still had her tail, which wagged furiously with excitement, and if I had a tail, mine would have been wagging too. We were all thrilled.
Okay, maybe Cookie wasn’t that thrilled, but on walks in the woods, Annie would turn out to be the playmate she never had. Annie took a shine to Sandy, our large golden retriever mix, and snuggled right up to her on her bed. Apart from a look of surprise, Sandy took it all in stride, as she does everything.
Forward a couple of months.
Here’s Tom, in bed with a 20 pound lump of black curls cradled in his arms. He whispers to her and she gazes adoringly with oversized brown eyes, trying to tell him how awful it was, out on the street, cold, hungry, hurting. He’s a very good listener.
Somehow a circle has closed, peace falling upon all.
As many of you know, last year we lost our dog Earl, a noble dog, as so many are.
I tried for a long time to get by on just two dogs. It really did work better logistically and don’t get me started on the folly of having dogs in the store! I don’t believe in it, but I just can’t help it. I’m addicted to dogs.
Then one day I was in my favorite second hand store, A Classy Flea, and I heard one of the women (who has a boxer rescue group) talking about the doggie glut.
“I could manage one more,” I mused. “But I really don’t want a boxer.”
“No problem!” she chirped. “My sister runs a Cocker Spaniel rescue group!”
Oh dear. Open mouth, insert dog.
Now my husband has a little history with Cockers. When he was a boy, he adored his Cocker. Unfortunately, his stepfather, who was truly mentally ill, became angry one day and gave the dog away. To this day, Tom’s mother doesn’t know why she didn’t stand up to her then husband (later divorced.) But Tom never saw his dog again.
So of course I had to look at the website.
Oh my goodness! Beautiful Spaniels one after another. A particularly beautiful Springer-Cocker mix with freckles. Joyous, lovely dogs one and all.
And one rather scruffy black and white flopper named Annie. My mother, whose name was Anna, was called Annie by her family, so of course that was that! The dog Annie had been on the streets quite a while, had been covered with mange, and was a wee bit sad, so of course we contacted the group right away.
Dog day. I was so excited, Allie was crazed, Tom was bemused. (I think he was a bit afraid to fall in love with another Cocker.)
The guy from the rescue group pulled up and opened his car door. Imagine our shock when this glamorous, perfectly groomed Cocker arrived, complete with bows over her ears. She was unearthly beautiful with fat over sized white paws and a dusting of white on her muzzle. She still had her tail, which wagged furiously with excitement, and if I had a tail, mine would have been wagging too. We were all thrilled.
Okay, maybe Cookie wasn’t that thrilled, but on walks in the woods, Annie would turn out to be the playmate she never had. Annie took a shine to Sandy, our large golden retriever mix, and snuggled right up to her on her bed. Apart from a look of surprise, Sandy took it all in stride, as she does everything.
Forward a couple of months.
Here’s Tom, in bed with a 20 pound lump of black curls cradled in his arms. He whispers to her and she gazes adoringly with oversized brown eyes, trying to tell him how awful it was, out on the street, cold, hungry, hurting. He’s a very good listener.
Somehow a circle has closed, peace falling upon all.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Hello all you quilty ladies!! This is our first blog posting and I'm going to slam it in, because I'm so stoked about this Spring's quilt offerings at market.
I just got back, after a wonderful few days at market, rooming with Mary Ellen Von Holt of Little Quilts and talking and eating until we were dazed. We had drinks with Alex Anderson and went to Moda's sunset dinner cruise on the Allegheny River with my friend Ro Gregg. (A truly spectacular event with all the grand high pooh bahs in attendance...Eleanor Burns at al).
Here's a quick high light of what is coming and what I think was all riveting!
I bought hundreds of patterns, especially a big group from Animas quilts centered around Christmas and we're going to kit at least a couple of those up. They are so rich and classic looking.
I also bought a group of Asian influence patterns that are large scale and fast and just stunning.
Lots of toys are coming! Quilter's toys that is! Fun gadgets and novelties you will have to see to understand.
Okay, I fell for everything yo-yo! Patterns, gadgets. They were all so cute!
A few of the major groups we have coming are:
American Retro from Windham Fabrics. Delft blue and rich red cherries, etc. Very fifties but in a rich palette.
All of the goofy Farmer John veggies
A wonderful Juvenile group from Janet Wecker Frisch , Mother Goosey
Flight of the Dancing Cranes from Northcott, Asian Fusion, mysterious and beautiful.
And of course lots lots more, but I'm so far behind (of course) I have to run!
Happy sewing!!
Thanks for the huge attendance at our birthday party. Hope you all liked your gifts as much as we loved seeing you.
Love from us all at Red Hen
I just got back, after a wonderful few days at market, rooming with Mary Ellen Von Holt of Little Quilts and talking and eating until we were dazed. We had drinks with Alex Anderson and went to Moda's sunset dinner cruise on the Allegheny River with my friend Ro Gregg. (A truly spectacular event with all the grand high pooh bahs in attendance...Eleanor Burns at al).
Here's a quick high light of what is coming and what I think was all riveting!
I bought hundreds of patterns, especially a big group from Animas quilts centered around Christmas and we're going to kit at least a couple of those up. They are so rich and classic looking.
I also bought a group of Asian influence patterns that are large scale and fast and just stunning.
Lots of toys are coming! Quilter's toys that is! Fun gadgets and novelties you will have to see to understand.
Okay, I fell for everything yo-yo! Patterns, gadgets. They were all so cute!
A few of the major groups we have coming are:
American Retro from Windham Fabrics. Delft blue and rich red cherries, etc. Very fifties but in a rich palette.
All of the goofy Farmer John veggies
A wonderful Juvenile group from Janet Wecker Frisch , Mother Goosey
Flight of the Dancing Cranes from Northcott, Asian Fusion, mysterious and beautiful.
And of course lots lots more, but I'm so far behind (of course) I have to run!
Happy sewing!!
Thanks for the huge attendance at our birthday party. Hope you all liked your gifts as much as we loved seeing you.
Love from us all at Red Hen
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
New Store
From a sow's ear to a silk purse, or why Mary Anne has anxiety attacks!
BEFORE
Here we start with the proverbial sow's ear:
It can only get better from here:
MOVING!
6,000++ bolts of fabric!
WE'VE ARRIVED!!
BEFORE
Here we start with the proverbial sow's ear:
It can only get better from here:
MOVING!
6,000++ bolts of fabric!
WE'VE ARRIVED!!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Our Story So Far
In 2003 when I moved to Marietta, Georgia, from Florida, I was thrilled to find out that I was living just a couple of miles from a fabric store! Oh joy unbounded!
Unfortunately, when I stopped at the historic Marietta Mill building and knocked on the door I found out that the fabric store which had once been located there was now closed. Too bad, I thought. What a fitting place for a fabric store...a historic textile mill. Not to mention the delicious location just blocks from historic Marietta town square. Oh well, I thought, maybe this is the chance for me to open the fabric store I always dreamed of...
When I got to know the town better, I felt there was a real need for a good fabric store in the area, so I began to talk to various people about renting a small space. At one point, I even took an option on an 800 square foot space. I had visions of sewing peacefully along and stopping to chat when the occasional customer wandered in.
One day as I passed the Mill, I saw the sign..."7,000 square feet for sale or lease." Oh gosh, that cool old building has space available, but of course I could never begin to afford it. Still...
I gathered up my courage and called the sweetest realtor in Marietta, John Hunicutt, a real southern gentleman. Maybe the space could be subdivided? I asked. John arranged to show me the building...and it was love at first sight. The lower floor of the historic mill had exposed floor beams, now painted black, and it seemed to go on forever. Old pipes and giant circuit breakers and roller doors spoke of the building's past as a mill. This was the space I'd always dreamed of ...too bad I was way too poor to afford it!
I babbled on to John about my dreams of the ultimate quilt store.in a historic mill no less. He told me about the history of the building, built in 1946 with double thick walls in case it was needed as a munitions storage area, and since used by the Bentley family to house their textile company. He agreed to plead my case with the Bentley brothers, Drew and Bullet. I think that what swayed the brothers was the fact that I love their building as much as they do. In any case, after some agonizing weeks, John was able to persuade them to make me a wonderful deal for the space. Thanks to their kindness it was, and is, a match made in heaven.
Many gallons of paint later, our grand old lady is polished up and again receiving visitors. The factory has long been relocated, although the company offices are still on the upper floor. When the store is quiet, I can hear my friends walking around on the original creaky floor boards.a sound I find very comforting. In turn, the Bentleys and the other employees of Marietta Drapery can't resist visiting occasionally to see what is new and to rejoice in the old lady's new look.
In addition to 6,000 bolts of fabric, we sell the overruns of drapes and bedspreads produced by the drapery company, at ridiculously low prices. When things are slow, I bore my customers by pointing out the unique brick ceiling, constructed with the same technology as the London underground. The occasional ghost drifts by, interested in all the changes, I suppose, or wondering at our state-of-the-art long arm quilting machine, so different from the primitive mill machines of the past.
In recent months we have added Toys, Gifts, Art, Rugs, Food, and many others. Not to mention Handi Quilter machines and Custom long arm quilting services!
We think we have a unique store -- part bargain basement, part quilt party, part gift shop. We hope you'll come visit us sometime soon. Cookie, the poodle in the picture, will be waiting to entertain the kids. But I warn you, once you're here, time slips away and it's really hard to leave! After all, who wants to be the first to leave a party?
Unfortunately, when I stopped at the historic Marietta Mill building and knocked on the door I found out that the fabric store which had once been located there was now closed. Too bad, I thought. What a fitting place for a fabric store...a historic textile mill. Not to mention the delicious location just blocks from historic Marietta town square. Oh well, I thought, maybe this is the chance for me to open the fabric store I always dreamed of...
When I got to know the town better, I felt there was a real need for a good fabric store in the area, so I began to talk to various people about renting a small space. At one point, I even took an option on an 800 square foot space. I had visions of sewing peacefully along and stopping to chat when the occasional customer wandered in.
One day as I passed the Mill, I saw the sign..."7,000 square feet for sale or lease." Oh gosh, that cool old building has space available, but of course I could never begin to afford it. Still...
I gathered up my courage and called the sweetest realtor in Marietta, John Hunicutt, a real southern gentleman. Maybe the space could be subdivided? I asked. John arranged to show me the building...and it was love at first sight. The lower floor of the historic mill had exposed floor beams, now painted black, and it seemed to go on forever. Old pipes and giant circuit breakers and roller doors spoke of the building's past as a mill. This was the space I'd always dreamed of ...too bad I was way too poor to afford it!
I babbled on to John about my dreams of the ultimate quilt store.in a historic mill no less. He told me about the history of the building, built in 1946 with double thick walls in case it was needed as a munitions storage area, and since used by the Bentley family to house their textile company. He agreed to plead my case with the Bentley brothers, Drew and Bullet. I think that what swayed the brothers was the fact that I love their building as much as they do. In any case, after some agonizing weeks, John was able to persuade them to make me a wonderful deal for the space. Thanks to their kindness it was, and is, a match made in heaven.
Many gallons of paint later, our grand old lady is polished up and again receiving visitors. The factory has long been relocated, although the company offices are still on the upper floor. When the store is quiet, I can hear my friends walking around on the original creaky floor boards.a sound I find very comforting. In turn, the Bentleys and the other employees of Marietta Drapery can't resist visiting occasionally to see what is new and to rejoice in the old lady's new look.
In addition to 6,000 bolts of fabric, we sell the overruns of drapes and bedspreads produced by the drapery company, at ridiculously low prices. When things are slow, I bore my customers by pointing out the unique brick ceiling, constructed with the same technology as the London underground. The occasional ghost drifts by, interested in all the changes, I suppose, or wondering at our state-of-the-art long arm quilting machine, so different from the primitive mill machines of the past.In recent months we have added Toys, Gifts, Art, Rugs, Food, and many others. Not to mention Handi Quilter machines and Custom long arm quilting services!
We think we have a unique store -- part bargain basement, part quilt party, part gift shop. We hope you'll come visit us sometime soon. Cookie, the poodle in the picture, will be waiting to entertain the kids. But I warn you, once you're here, time slips away and it's really hard to leave! After all, who wants to be the first to leave a party?
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