A Quilt Story: Voices from the Great Depression

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As the story goes, my aunt was cleaning clutter out of the garage, planning to toss out whatever was left in a musty old trunk that had sat in a back corner of her garage for almost forty years. Its contents meant little to her, since her in-laws had both passed away before she and my uncle met.

Inside the trunk, my dad discovered a brown envelope stuffed with family photos and several old letters. When he carried a boxful of items into the house, my mom rummaged around in there and found a folded quilt top rolled in a sheet at the very bottom of the trunk. She suspected it might have belonged to Daddy's mom--an exciting thought.

So without him noticing, Mama slipped the fabric into my aunt's house so she could ask her about it. Turns out the quilt top was, indeed, begun by my grandmother, but that's as much as my aunt knew.

Mama didn't tell my dad about her find, but instead, hatched a secret plan: She would ask me to finish what my grandmother had begun 75 years ago.

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Quilt by JuhliGreene
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A few days after my mom entrusted the quilting project to me, I started planning how I would finish it in time for my dad's 80th birthday. First I checked fabric stores for a backing that would complement the colors and patterns of the quilt top, yet wouldn't look too modern in comparison.

It didn't take long to locate a simple fabric in a soft shade of peachy-pink. Its pattern was subtle and seemed to fit in well with the 1920's fabric used by my grandmother. Perfect!

Instead of polyester fill, I decided to buy a nice warm thermal blanket. I like blankets as the center layer, because the overall quilt tends to launder better and doesn't turn lumpy with age.

I recalled Daddy's stories--like voices from the Great Depression. Like many in the '20s and '30s, his parents had lived a frugal life. Nothing was wasted, and they taught their children to count their blessings. But as hard as they tried to hold it together, his dad ended up losing the family farm during the Great Depression.

On top of that jolt, my grandfather suffered a serious stroke and died at home. My dad was ten years old when he said that last goodbye to his father. Through the difficult years, he clung to the truth of a favorite verse in the Bible: "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you" (I Peter 5:7/NIV). God proved his faithfulness time and again as my dad and his family lived through some very tough years.

And now I had a quilt top from that era. I studied the old-fashioned prints and textures of the quilt top, and wondered whether the brown and white swatches might have been cut from one of my grandfather's shirts. Could the bright red and white starred print have been my grandmother's apron, or a pair of curtains?

...In time, I would learn the missing details.

On my dad's 80th birthday, we drove down to spend the weekend with my parents. That morning we were planning to take them out for breakfast, but I couldn't wait any longer. I had to give him my package.

I sat closeby so I could see his expression when he opened his gift.

He took one look at the quilt, pulled it up against his chest, and wept.

When he regained his composure, he pointed to all the different fabric squares.

"That was Dad's shirt," he said quietly.

"Mom's favorite dress. She loved blue."

"These curtains hung in our dining room."

"Oh, and look...there's the apron my aunt made for my mother."

Before I left for home that weekend, Daddy hugged me again and told me, "When my time comes to leave this world, I want you to have this quilt."

Little did I realize what lay ahead...

Dingbat Quilt by eyebalm
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