Our Heirloom Quilts

Growing up  there were no quilters in my family. But in 1966 my grandfather took my mom and me with him on a trip 'back home' to Milroy, PA to visit his Aunt Carrie. And Aunt Carrie gave him and my grandmother a quilt which was given to my mom, who gave it to me in the 1970s.

Carrie V. Ramer Bobb was my grandfather's mother's sister. When Gramps lost his mother and then his grandmother, he was an orphan at the age of nine years. Sisters Aunt Carrie and Aunt Annie Ramer Smithers took turns raising him. My grandfather Lynne O. Ramer got a sound education, and worked his way through college and seminary and gaining a teaching certificate.

Aunt Carrie (1904-1971)

The quilt passed down to me is a Dresden Plate. The layers were machine sewn, with the backing turned to the front and sewn down. Then the plates were hand appliqued to the quilt!

The background fabric is white, the plate centers are light blue or medium blue.

The quilt was likely made in the early 1960s shortly before it was gifted to my grandfather. I expect that like most quilters, Aunt Carrie had a collection of fabrics that spanned the early 20th century and came from a wide variety of sources.  In September 1965 my grandfather wrote a letter to the Lewistown Sentinel about just where Carrie got her stash:

“Well we have stitched on another vacation patch to the crazy quilt of life. At the Richfield ‘Ramer clutch” several widely separated cuzzins brought bags of patches for Aunt Carrie Bobb of the Mifflin County Home, who has another Postage Stamp Quilt under way.

     “Aunt Carrie sews on this quilt between times devoted to the guests and writing 10 letters each week.  This year the patches came from Bethesda, Camden, Annapolis, Indianapolis, Sinking Valley, Allen Park and Berkley, etc., etc.—and a crazy assortment they were to be sure!”

   “Yet when a quilt is complete there is some manner of symmetry and form to the total, be it a Dresden Circles, a Field of Diamonds, a Double Wedding Ring or just a plain Postage Stamp.

     “Such is life! Patches added willy nilly, seemingly with no central purpose, yet the total displays an amazing degree of purpose.  A quilt is hard to see because we look at the patches, just like it’s said we can’t see the forest due to the single trees."

The fabric scraps from Allen Park and Berkley were from Michigan: Gramps lived in Berkley and his daughter Nancy in Allen Park.  The scraps from Annapolis was my mom's brother, Uncle Dave and his wife Pat.

Aunt Carrie Bobb's grandson, Sid Bobb, shared with me a photo of the two Aunt Carrie quilts he inherited, a Drunkard's Path variation in red and white and a Grandmother's Flower Garden variation in pastels.

I also have a quilt from my husband's side of the family, given to me by my mother-in-law. It was made by her grandmother, Harriet Scoville (Scovile, Schoville) Nelson, and was given to her daughter Charlotte Grace Nelson O'Dell,  then came to my mother-in-law Laura Grace O'Dell Bekofske.

Harriet Scoville  (1877-1951)and Aaron Nelson. 

Charlotte Grace Nelson and John Oren O'Dell, 1896

Laura Grace O'Dell Bekofske

 The quilt is a red and white Single Wedding Ring, with a polka dot backing, and tied with faded red and white floss.

The cotton batting is quite lumpy!

 The edges were turned in and machine sewn. A thread was never cut. The floss looks pink, but is pin or red and white.

 The quilt was kept in Laura's cedar chest and never used. Tannin in the wood left brown spots.

Laura made Gary and I several quilts in the early 1980s, a blue Log Cabin and a multi-colored Sister's Choice, much beloved by our son.

By the time I started to quilt in 1991, my mother-in-law was ending her quilting career. Arthritis had settled in her thumb joint. She instead took up counted cross stitch. Her vision remained clear and she enjoyed this work until her death.

Dear Nelton

Many years ago I was at the Royal Oak, MI flea market and saw a trunk full of old papers that had been lifted from the streets. I asked the seller what he wanted for the papers, and he said $10, which was an awful lot of money for what was trash! I gathered up all the papers I could, noting there were covered with a thick sprinkling of baby powder. There was one album with papers, a few photos, and a few letters.

Back home, I sorted the papers. There was a whole man's history in receipts, from the purchase of a ring to payments on a house and furniture. I later sold these to a collector of African American ephemera.

The letters were very moving. George S. Miller was a vet who was trying to get the government to cover his medical expenses for injuries incurred in the war. He was in love with a woman named Nelton, who had a son. He poured his heart out to her, how he wanted to be a father to her son.

I made a little quilt with scanned letters and photos printed on fabric. Because George's life was in such turmoil, the quilt is chaotic. I used a vintage napkin for the background, which I stamped with various paint patterns. I layered my scans with fabric bits, and appliqued threads and buttons and silk flowers.

George's handwriting was not hard to read, and he wrote three sheets of paper per letter, using three-hole-punched lined school paper.

The photos showed two women, one of whom I believe to be Nelton.

Several houses photos were included. I found a paper with his address.

My heart still breaks when I read this letter from George. I wonder if he and Nelton ever were able to be together as a family. I sure hope so.

*****

2019 Update:

I searched Ancestry.com trying to discover more about George and Nelton.

Nelton E. Battles was born December 24, 1923, and died in Highland Park, MI, on March 16, 1987. George's 1962 letter to Nelton is addressed Seebalt St. in Detroit and the records show that in 1990 Nelton lived at 4382 Seebalt St.

You can see that the home in the black and white photos I found with the papers is the same house as pictured below. Today tet home is foreclosed and owned by the city. It was once a lovely house built in 1915. This Westside neighborhood is now mostly vacant homes today.

Seebalt Street home where Nelton once lived

In one letter George says he is sending money to Mrs. Nelton Battles, 2635 Cortland St., Detroit. That location is vacant land today.

George S. Miller's 1951 letter from the Veterans of Foreign Wars of the United States is addressed to 730 W Euclid St. in Detroit. I have seen Euclid St. I remembered it from the 1960s and several times in the last few years we have gotten lost coming off the expressway and drove past Euclid. The street is just north of New Center where I have visited Henry Ford Hospital specialists. The house appears to have been torn down. The houses next to where it would have been were built around 1907, large brick houses that once were lovely.

It is possible that I have found George in the census.

The 1930 Census for Detroit shows George Mill, born around 1926, 4 years old, living with parents George and Myrtle Miller and siblings Gladys and JC. Both parents were born in South Carolina. George Sr. worked in an auto factory. They paid $30 rent at 664 Livingston St., Detroit. I can't find Livingston on the map or in an internet search. The area must have been torn down years ago, perhaps during 'urban renewal' when African American communities were displaced to build the expressways.

The 1940 Census for Detroit shows George was 14 years old. Goerge was 40 and worked as a line foreman for road construction, earning $945 a year. Myrtle was 39 years old. John C., George, and Lilia were the children. The family lived on 3888 St. Antoine St. This is another street I have driven by. It's not far from Orchestra Hall where we attend the Detroit Symphony.

From Detroit Streets:

Beaubien and St. Antoine originated from the two Beaubien brothers, Lambert and Antoine, each of whom received half of the family farm after the death of their father, Jean Baptiste Beaubien, one of the first white settlers on the river, opposite Fort Dearborn. Lambert was a colonel in the First Regiment of Detroit's militia. He fought in the War of 1812. Antoine chose to name his property after his patron saint, St. Antoine. Antoine was a lieutenant colonel in the Michigan Territorial Militia. He donated a chunk of his land for the Sacred Heart Academy, once located at the corner of Jefferson and St. Antoine.
http://apps.detnews.com/apps/history/index.php?id=199#ixzz0qOP2Vxki

It would be great to locate George's military records.

Autumn Leaves

I have always loved fall best of all the seasons. I love the colors of the leaves, the gold and reds, the browns and oranges. When I was a girl, every fall my family took a day trip to the Allegheny Mountains to see friends on a farm. I loved how the colored trees looked on the hillsides, huge rounded masses of color next to color.

My mom was an oil painter, and her earliest paintings were copies of Robert Wood landscapes, trees in autumn. This still life painting hangs in my aunt's house, and was Mom painted it in the early 1960s.

When our son was little, we would walk into town together as a family, sometimes to go to the school playground and sometimes to visit the ice cream stand. One autumn, I noticed red leaves on a branch against a brilliant blue sky. I later took a photograph, and some years later it became the center of a quilt.

I used bleach and a fine permanent marker for leaf details. The branches are knotted in places. I then added a border of pieced leaves. It is all hand appliqued and hand quilted.The fabrics are all hand dyed, some purchased and some I dyed.

I also have a nice collection of handkerchiefs featuring leaves, and have always planned to make an entire hanky quilt of leaves!

The trees are still green here along the West Michigan lake shore. A little red is showing here and there, so I expect a glorious riot of color is to come. Nature's last hurrah before its long sleep.

Trunk Show

My sewing machine is waiting for repair. My sewing room is in turmoil after our move. I am the worst blogger ever, LOL.

But here is a trunk show of quilts from the closet: My Barbie Quilts.

Growing up in the 1950s, I of course had a love affair with Barbie. Or rather, Barbie CLOTHES. Dressing Barbie in those great outfits was most of the fun. The rest was the adventures we made up.

My first ponytail Barbie had those slanted eyes, and I thought they made her look villainous. She was NOT a heroine in our play. But the Bubble Cut Barbie was okay.

My Midge became 'The Boy From Mars', wearing the Gone Fishin' jeans and plaid shirt. Ken was a Dobbie Gillis clone, and Alan had plastic hair--ugh. My last doll was Skipper, so cute. Then I felt I was too old for dolls and they went into the attic. So I never got Twist n Turn Barbie or American Girl..

Horror of horrors, one day I came home from high school to learn that Mom had GIVEN AWAY all my dolls to the girls down the street!!!!! I was heart sick. No way could I ask for them back. After all, the family was large and the girls were sweet.

Years past and I was into my 40s when I made the decision I could play with dolls again. I made the first shown quilt by scanning Barbie, printing her on fabric, and dressing her. It is a small wall hanging. I later made another larger dressing Barbie quilt for a quilt guild ugly fabric challenge.

Once again I scanned Barbie and printed her on fabric. I fused he onto ugly fabric backgrounds. I used a collectors guild book to make clothes styled on her original fashions, but using more ugly fabrics. I kept to the ugly fabric scheme in the loud daisy border. Then I appliqued real Barbie clothes and accessories.

My Barbie Quilt won second place in the Capital City Quilt Guild Ugly Fabric Challenge. It went on to be juried into a major quilt show!

It is great to play with dolls, at any age.

Independence Day

My quilt life has been put on hold for quite a few months as we packed, moved, unpacked and settled into our new home. Next week I hope to finally start to set up my quilt studio!

In 1976 we were living near Philadelphia. It was a wonderful time to be there! We spent all summer taking the train to downtown Philly, and walking from one historical sight to another. We saw the musical 1776 performed for free on Independence Mall. We wore buttons saying "Ask Me", declaring to the tourist that we knew our way around.


When several years ago I saw Bicentennial era embroidery patterns on eBay, I had to buy them. And I made my quilt, Bicentennial Memories.

The images include George Washington cutting down a cherry tree; Independence Hall, a George Washington medallion, the Liberty Bell, and  Betsy Ross sewing the flag. Thomas Jefferson was adapted from clip art. Martha Washington is a vintage Redwork pattern. The last two blocks are the American eagle and the flag of 1776. The red and white fabrics have a small cherry print on them.

In my collection is a hanky and scarf from the Bicentennial.

One of my favorite hanky designers was Tammis Keefe, and I have collected the Philadelphia souvenir handkerchiefs she designed in the 1960s. They feature famous landmarks. Here is her Liberty Bell, and Independence Hall.

Another souvenir hanky of Independence Hall:

I had always an interest in early American history, but being in Philadelphia during the Bicentennial really increased my interest. I have read such books as David McCullough's 1776, which details all the battles of that year...something I would never have considered previous to living so close to history!

Happy Birthday, America. And best wishes for many more to come.

A Legacy of Racism: Arc of Justice by Kevin Boyle

This past month I read Arc of Justice by Kevin Boyle. In 1925 an African American doctor bought a house in an all-white Detroit neighborhood. At that time, the only housing available to people of color was in Black Bottom, a neighborhood built to house 5,000 people but by then holding 60,000. Dr. Ossian Sweet had seen a lynching as a boy, and knew about race riots that had erupted in towns across the US over racial integration of white neighborhoods. So Dr Sweet invited friends to his home for protection, and had purchased guns. As a 'new Negro,' he intended to fight for his rights and protect his family  if attacked.

When the KKK rallied the white neighborhood to protest, and the rocks started to hit the roof and break windows, one of the people in Sweet's house shot a gun. A bullet hit a young man and killed him. All 16 people in Sweet's house that night were arrested. The trial culminated with Clarence Darrow working for the defendants. When the jury could not agree, the defendants were tried separately. Dr Sweet's younger brother was first on trial, and was acquired and all suspects were released. Horribly, the time in jail exposed Dr. Sweet's wife to tuberculosis, and both her and their baby died of TB. Dr Sweet ended his own life.

The story is important, but the background information to explain the significance of the events in their historical context makes the events come alive. We learn what it meant to the white homeowners to have their house value drop. We also understand why Dr Sweet planned for his self-protection when he bought his wife's dream house. The NAACP leader, James Weldon Johnson, saw this case as pivotal and raised money for the defendants.

At the same time, I was reading a biography of Ella Baker. I had first read about Ella in "Freedom's Daughters," a wonderful book about the women behind the Civil Rights movement. That book had inspired my quilt, I Will Lift My Voice.

Ella attended college then moved to Harlem during its Renaissance. By 1930 she was involved in activist work, with a specialty in enabling people to start  grass roots movements. Ella was a whirlwind, traveling the country and connecting with people of all rank and file. I was quite overwhelmed by the details of her work history and all she accomplished.

Detroit remains one of the most segregated cities in America. It is amazing to think about. I grew up in the northern suburbs of Detroit.

I remember the 1968 race riots, and waiting for Dad to arrive home safely from the Highland Park factory where he worked. The rioting was reported to have high 8 Mile Road. We lived at 12 Mile. There was only fear in my world, no other repercussions. Neighbors voiced racial slurs. My mother stood up against racism. She was full of compassion and understood that the violence sprung from deep inequalities. She had made a friend while in treatment at Henry Ford Hospital, and had visited her in her home. The friend was black and lived in Detroit. Mom saw first hand the difference between her reality and our working class world in the 'burbs. Our 1920 home was modest, our clothing from K-Mart, but we were literally living in a different world.

I grew up thinking I was not prejudiced; I did not hate people of different color, religion or background. My ancestors did not own slaves (later proven by genealogical research). I was not responsible, and should not be classified with those 'other whites' who were bigots. But over time, I learned to understand that a moral man in an immoral society, who does not protest or work to change the status quo, is a participant and supporter of the immorality. I learned that prejudice is inescapable. And that it becomes a daily choice to do the right thing.

It is Lent, and yesterday in church we sang the hymn "Ah, Holy Jesus." Singing the words, we admit that we were participants in the death of Jesus. We all share the shame. In the end, that is how I have come to think about America's history of racism, prejudice, and racial violence. I cannot claim to be separate from that legacy. I must share the blame.