Chapter 2

            In my January post, I told the story of the quilt I made for my husband.  This post is Chapter 2.  To truly understand my tale today, you have to understand that I need to have a hand sewing project to do!!  Most evenings, my sweetheart and I watch television; he with a book or his scriptures on hand for the boring parts, and I with a hand sewing project.  This one is the quilt.  "Lovers' Knot" designed by Eleanor Burns.

I emphasize quilt top because a quilt is actually a sandwich of fabric:  the colorful top, a batting for warmth, and a backing.  The quilt maker puts this sandwich together by either tying, machine quilting, or hand quilting, and then binds the sandwich.  What you see in the picture above is the quilt top, and it looks symmetrical and quite attractive, doesn't it?  This particular quilt top was designed as two large separate triangles.   Designing my own Celtic Lovers' Knot pattern for the red and green knots you see in the quilt, from January to late February, I spent every evening hand quilting the bottom triangle.

My mother and her sisters used to brag about their quilting stitches.  Ladies in their seventies, they were so proud of their tiny stitches--twelve to an inch--that, if one dared to contradict or criticize, the others resorted to calling her some of their childhood naughty nicknames.  My stitches are more like six stitches to the inch, but I'm learning.

                       When I put the finished triangle half on my design board, I noticed, to my horror, a horrendous blunder.  See if you can spot it.  Look along the edge in the bottom left corner of the picture. See it now?  Look at the little red triangles.  There's a pattern:  red triangle, green V, red triangle and Ooops...

Three of the four sides of the quilt have this same error, and two of the sides are fully handquilted.

                       DO I CORRECT MY ERROR OR NOT???  This is the part of the quilt called the overhang--the part that hangs over the edge of the bed.  The border.  Should I ignore the problem and just finish the quilt?  Hours and hours and hours of picking out the hundreds of stitches.  Is it worth that much effort?  YES.  Yes it is.  This quilt is for the man of my dreams, and, even at 70+, he is as handsome and kind and loving--a Prince Charming--a real Boy Scout, as he was 41 years ago today when I met him!!

                 The first step was to label every part of the quilt with sticky notes. looking for the error. 

                 Then, I used these wicked-looking fellows:

Picking, picking, picking at miniscule stitches--mine aren't as small as my mom's, but they're small.  Picked and picked and picked through football games, political caucuses, old movies, and tv episodes until the pattern and rhythmn of the border is back in sync. 

                       In the meantime, my sweetheart is up to his old tricks.  These are his wicked-looking fellows.  He's been trimming and pruning the damaged trees in our yard.  Yes, he climbs on that orchard ladder.  Yes, I've told him a million times not to.  But, as I want the border on the quilt to be right, Tom wants the trees in the yard to look right.

 

Maybe that's the secret:  to do what's in our power to help what we love be the best that they can be. 

                         Love, Mom

“The purpose of life is not to be happy – but to matter, to be productive, to be useful, to have it make some difference that you have lived at all.” Leo Rosten

LEST WE FORGET

           Have you ever had times in your life when events seem to have a theme?  That's been my plight this week.  The theme has been service in the military.  I think the seed was sown when I began to read Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, which is the true story of Louis Zampereni, an Olympic runner who survived a plane crash and a Japanese POW camp during WWII.  One evening when I was involved in the book, Tom suggested that I watch a two part episode of the old tv show, "Doc."  These episodes originally aired as a Veterans Day tribute in 2001.  Wow...talk about gut-wrenching!!  Then, there was the flap about flying the flag at half-mast for Whitney Houston.  I had no choice but to research my own Whitby family's service in the military, so the theme kicked into high gear.

 I've talked before on this blog about my brother, Joe, who served in Vietnam.  I still remember his first leave home from Marine Corps basic training. Every shoe in the house was polished to a high gloss, and every bed made to military rightness.  Joe was 23 when he was killed in 1967.  He had only been in the country for a month or two, having served most of his military time as a guard at a military prison.  He wrote a few letters in which he warns me over and over:  DO NOT DATE MARINES.  He didn't have to go to Vietnam because of the nature of his assignment, but he felt duty-bound to serve with his fellow Marines.  I found this description of his last days: On 05 March 1967 Charlie and Delta Companies, 1/9 Marines, assaulted NVA forces emplaced around Phu An. The NVA were defeated at the cost of at least eleven Marines killed in action: 

I've talked to two of the men who served with Joe in that horrendous battle who credited Joe with saving their lives. 
                                                 Then, I researched the military service of my uncle, Cyrus Whitby, who was career military, serving in the tail end of WWII and dying during the Korean War. 
Sergeant Whitby was a member of Company D, 8th Engineer Combat Battalion, 1st Cavalry Division. He was Killed in Action while clearing a mine field at Sin-dong, in South Korea by a direct hit from an enemy mortar shell on September 16, 1950.  He was 29.  I never knew Uncle Cy, but I have a few letters that he wrote to his brother, Jack, that I cherish.  In most of the letters, he longs to come to Seattle and have some beers with his brother.  His last letter is dated September 16, 1950.  He tells Jack of new leadership responsibilities that have brought him to his knees in prayer for the first time in many, many years. 

                                His brother, Jack, also served in the military--the US Navy during WWII.  Jack was the uncle we children knew well.  He was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy and loved us dearly.                                          

Another of my uncles, my father's half-brother, Frank Warr, was also career military.  He served in the cavalry and actually worked with horses early in his career.  I also have some of his letters where he talks about the many precision drills for which he was grooming and training the horses.  Since he is buried in Manila, I began to wonder if he had been in the Bataan Death March.  Although Uncle Frank was in the 31st Infantry Division which was marched to their deaths, he died of his wounds in a battle at Acubay four months before the horrible Death March.  Uncle Frank's brother, Ray Warr, was the son who stayed home to care for their widowed mother and to run the family farm which was considered vital to the war.
                                           

                       Finally, I researched my father's military service.  Daddy wasn't drafted until late 1944 because he worked in the asbestos industry which was vital to the war, but in 1944, his number came up, and he reluctantly left my mother and we three children behind for almost two years.  He never spoke of his military service, and he did not allow my brother to have even toy guns in our home.  I did know that he had served in Germany during the occupation.  I searched hard to find his military records since he'd been drafted for the "duration of the war" and to be assigned "as needed."  I'm still waiting for official copies of his war records.  Through bits and pieces in newspaper accounts in his hometown newspaper of Oakley, Idaho, I found out that he was in the 701st Battallion which was part of the First Infantry Division. He served as a truck driver in France and Germany, and in 1945, I received a birthday letter from him which is postmarked "Gotha, Germany."
The 1st Infantry Division continued its push into Germany, crossing the Rhine River. On 16 December 1944, 24 enemy divisions, 10 of which were armored, launched a massive counterattack in the Ardennes sector, resulting in what became known as the Battle of the Bulge. On 15 January 1945, the 1st Infantry Division attacked and penetrated the Siegfried line for the second time and occupied the Remagen bridgehead. On Easter Sunday, 1 April 1945, the Division marched 150 miles to the east of Siegen. On 8 April 1945, the Division crossed the Weser river into Czechoslovakia. The war was over in Europe on 8 May 1945.
                                     Though the theme for these last few days has been depressing, it's also been affirming.  These men served their country, sacrificed their lives, in some cases, to protect their families and way of life.  I doubt that any of them wanted to be warriors; they wanted to parade their horses, drink beer, be at home with family.  Our son, Steve, and our son-in-law, Ben, are this generation's military men, and we're proud of them. 
                 Hope all is well with everyone.  Love, Mom

   

Listen to your heart. Even though it's on your left side, it will always be right! :)