I inherited the quilting gene from my Grandma Cornwell. She was an incredibly talented seamstress who relaxed after work by listening to the Suns games on the radio while sewing. She could sew anything from a teddy bear to underwear and make it beautiful. She taught me to sew when I was little but died from breast cancer when I was fourteen. I must have learned something from her, because after a few years (and one summer of sewing lessons from Cyndi White and a patient mother who really, really didn't like to sew) I was sewing soft sculpture dolls, then skirts and jumpers, a Christmas tree skirt and unfortunately, my finger.
My Grandma Cornwell did not see anything that I sewed, including the quilt we made together.
In the early 1990s my sister Jamie and her family drove from San Diego to Nebraska. They stopped in Phoenix at our Great Aunt Esther and Great Uncle Dave's house. My Aunt Esther had almost magical closets filled with treasures--everything from Star Wars collectables and an elaborate Dickens village/metropolis to perfume bottles and clothes her twins wore as children. I have fond memories of Aunt Esther's fabulous show and tell. On this trip Aunt Esther showed Jamie a pile of quilt squares my grandmother, her sister, had sewn years before and asked if she wanted them.
She did not.
Jamie did not sew. She did not want to learn to sew. She also inherited Grandma Cornwell's Singer featherweight sewing machine, but that's another story.
She took the eleven quilt blocks for me. They went to Nebraska. And home to California. She wouldn't mail them to me in Utah, because they were too valuable. She wouldn't let me put them in my checked baggage because they were too valuable. And she laughed when I moved those quilt scraps (and everything else) to Arizona in 2000. The quilt scraps were back in Arizona where Grandma made them.
In 2003 I made a quilt. To be honest, those blocks my Grandma made before she married were a huge challenge for me. They were different sizes and orientation (some pointing to the corners and some pointing up). The fabric was a multi-colored spectrum of color and scraps from what looked like pajamas and feed sacks and anything else she had lying around in the late 30s and early 40s. And what do you do with only eleven?
I made a circle. And to honor Grandma's hand applique and piecing, I hand quilted it.
