I love patchwork quilts. I could own them in every color of the spectrum. Although my mother and my grandmothers didn't quilt, previous generations did, and we had a wealth of quilts around. These quilts of yesteryear featured heavy winter fabrics, rich colors, and thick wool batting. These workhorse quilts are a testimony to the frugality, creativity, and industry of the women of the past.
As we lived in a rather old (Victorian Era) home with a temperamental gravity furnace, we were accustomed to cold floors and drafty open rooms. Quilts were a mainstay for snuggling up on the couch with a book, or for layering on the old iron bedsteads in the ever chilly upstairs. One of my favorite memories of quilts was crawling in between the sheets and burrowing down into the depths of the huge bed and feeling the weight of the many layers of quilts over me. It was so comforting to feel protected in that cocoon of weighty warmth. When I was sick and had been home in bed all day, Mom would come in to plump my pillows and straighten the bed and she would shake the quilts and "make the bed" with me in it. I felt a great surge of glee as she covered me completely with those bastions of warmth and comfort. I would giggle and wiggle around and she would tell me to "be still." She managed to make me feel better and loved at the same time.
Pioneer families experienced cold like many of us will thankfully never know. While quilt making was, and is, an artform; they knew that the survival of their families, especially their small children, depended on their ability to keep them warm. Children were bundled into beds with siblings and covered with life shielding layers of warmth. They may have also inserted a brick or a rock that had been warmed in the fire.
But quilts were not just a defense against winter's icy fingers. They were also memory preservers for those who made them. They may have been made to commemorate an event such as a wedding or a birth. The scraps of fabric may have had held some significance as many times they were cut from a favorite dress or outfit. These quilters were practicing recycling and a form of scrapbooking while fiercely protecting their families from a silent enemy- the cold
Most of today's quilters are not using old garments, but are carefully choosing their quilt's palette from an endless array of fabrics crafted with the quilter in mind. These fabrics are color matched and may include complementary themed prints. Yesterday's quilters would be amazed at the possibilities available to them, but they would also be bewildered. Imagine coming from the mindset of a pioneer woman who has more to do than she can get done in a day, a very poor source of light to work in the evening, and winter coming before she knows it. She has no budget for materials, and the knowledge that she must get this done. She is a wizard of ingenuity and thrift. She uses the minutest scraps from her scrap bag, (nothing wasted) and takes the fabric from outgrown or worn out clothing and finds the parts with the least wear and works them into a lovely crazy quilt. It doesn't follow any particular pattern, but with some embroidery accents, becomes a very attractive, sturdy, and warm cover for her child's bed. Our pioneer woman lovingly prepared her family for winter. While it was aesthetically pleasing, and had memories associated with it, her main objective was practicality.
I could go on and on about quilts, there is much to study about them. The patterns hold a great deal of meaning and can stem from various sources. I enjoyed reading about the Biblical origins of many popular quilt designs. Another interesting bit of information was about the use of flour sacks in quilts and clothing; again, another great example of recycling. This practice began in the 1840's when the cotton price dropped and cotton feed sacks began to replace barrels as a means to store and sell dry goods. Thrifty women began to use this fabric to make undergarments as the bags were made of unbleached muslin. I laughed as I read of the trouble that those pesky labels caused, and the procedures these ladies developed to rid themselves of these annoyances. Imagine the embarrassment to a well-mannered lady to fall and have her under things show at all, let alone with "Southern Best" or "Self Rising" emblazoned on them. Soon, the manufacturers began to see the marketing potential of providing printed fabrics (and peel off paper labels). Women would buy their flour, sugar, cornmeal, beans, and rice on the basis of the print. The companies began to produce complementary prints to entice these women to buy more dry goods. This practice continued until the 1950's when paper bags became the choice of manufacturers.
I had some pretty calico shorts when I was a child. They were made from a flour sack my grandmother had been saving for just the right project. As I recall, I was climbing a fence to see a new batch of kittens when my shorts caught on nail and ripped. Embarrassing as this was, I am glad now that she hadn't also made my underwear and I that I was not imprinted with some advertising slogan, although I don't think anyone but my grandparents saw the incident. Sorry, I couldn't resist interjecting my own flour sack story, but I will continue now with the purpose of this article.
My great-grandmother on my mother's side was born in a small log cabin in the late 1890's in the frigid woods of Wisconsin. Some of my favorite stories growing up were the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I had drawn up plans for my own one room cabin; which I planned to build on my other grandma's farm. Gramma Simpson said, "Why would you want to build a drafty, dark, old cabin?" She had no use for them. In fact, she shuddered as she said it. She saw no romance in the idea. It brought back vivid memories of being cold, and she was so thankful not to live that way anymore. She may have known how to quilt, but she didn't. She was a very good seamstress and knitter. She made most of my clothes when I was small. I was the first great grandchild, and she made sure I was well dressed. She was extremely frugal, saving all the scraps from every project. I also remember her coming to stay with us when I was almost four to care for us until my brother was born. She lay on the floor and braided us a very large, wool rug for our den floor. She scoured and cleaned and made all sorts of wonderful baked goods, and she also caught our Apricot tree on fire, but that's a different story.
When I was about ten years old, my mom decided she wanted to make me one of those patchwork maxi skirts that were becoming popular. She asked Gramma Simpson for some scraps from which to cut squares for the skirt. When she brought out the fabric, it was like a trip down memory lane. I recognized fabric from my clothes from years gone by, my mom's maternity clothes, my grandma's dresses, even my little brother's clothes. Gramma didn't waste anything. I wouldn't have normally put all those different prints and colors together. In fact, I wouldn't have considered wearing an outfit made of many of those prints, but small quantities arranged in the right manner produced a pleasing piece.
I remember some particularly startling fabric that Gramma gave me for a project I was making. I don't know why she had it, or what had used it for, or even if she did ever use it. It was chartreuse with shiny black painted polka dots. I liked some garish things when I was a child, but even I thought it was ugly. I was making some doll quilts. I just needed a few pieces of the right shape and size to fill in some gaps. I pieced in that ugly green fabric. I was probably squinting, but you know, with the other whimsical fabrics I had chosen, it was okay.
Experiences of varying types and duration make up the fabric of our lives. While we may not want a whole bolt of any particular piece; in small quantities they can add contrast and depth to the quilt of our life.
Shauna Bagenstos 2008-2010
If you care to read more about the history of quilts, here is a link to a nice little site with many articles about American quilt history.
http://www.womenfolk.com/quilt_pattern_history/patchwork.htm
Friday, June 11, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Race of Time
Do you ever feel as though your life is racing by? I have been feeling this way a great deal lately. My children are growing up quickly. My two older daughters have already passed their twentieth birthdays, and my son is going to turn eighteen in mere months. My youngest daughter turned fifteen recently. As I am faced with the harsh reality that my children, are for the most part, not children anymore; I think of all the things I had planned to do with the kids that I just never quite got around to doing.
Life seems to be a chain of endless events. We seem to rush from one thing to another in a frenzy of activity. Most of these activities are necessary. Church, work, school, and chores comprise most of our lives. But we manage to find time for fun things as well. I find as I look back over my life that the memories I most cherish are not the major events such as vacations and theme parks, but the spontaneous hilarity that erupts frequently on the road of everyday life. I think of the innocent statements that become family jokes and linger indefinitely. These statements are brought up over and over again and never fail to produce fond memories and laughs. They are applied to various situations whether they are related or not. These “inside” jokes are a phenomenon of family life, and give us a sense of belonging. Our families are exclusive clubs that one must share DNA or a marriage covenant to be granted admittance. What tickles our funny bone may not make a bit of sense to another family with another family culture, but to us it is the sweet bond of unity.
My daughters and I went on a trip recently. In the course of a few days, we had several of these spontaneous occurrences. One of these was at a buffet restaurant. I asked my daughter to go to the salad bar and smell the soup and tell me if it was any good. She said “No.” She had a quizzical look on her face, as she thought I meant to actually lean down and take a whiff of the soup pot. Of course I was not encouraging her to do anything that weird. I simply meant that when she was near the soup if it smelled good, to bring me some. After I had explained what I really meant, she went up to look at the soup. She came back and with great emphasis said, “Mom, that soup is missing EVERYTHING!” We all burst into gales of laughter.
It was chicken noodle soup. I immediately knew what she was saying. I knew what to expect at that restaurant, and I was merely interested in it’s fitness/freshness. I knew it was going to be a thin soup. It was basically just broth, thin noodles and smallish pieces of chicken. She, on the other hand, expected chicken soup like I make from scratch at home. My chicken soup contains large chunks of chicken, carrots, celery, onions, homemade wide noodles and brown rice and a whole host of spices. It is really more of a chicken stew. She was right, that soup was missing everything. My, what mileage we have gotten from that statement!
The seasons of life come and go as quickly as the seasons of the year. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Babyhood, Childhood, Adolescence, Adulthood. Time is flying into timelessness. Take time to enjoy the seasons as the pass, and remember that the imprint you make in your children’s lives today will continue to impact them as they enter adulthood and beyond.
Shauna Bagenstso 2010
Life seems to be a chain of endless events. We seem to rush from one thing to another in a frenzy of activity. Most of these activities are necessary. Church, work, school, and chores comprise most of our lives. But we manage to find time for fun things as well. I find as I look back over my life that the memories I most cherish are not the major events such as vacations and theme parks, but the spontaneous hilarity that erupts frequently on the road of everyday life. I think of the innocent statements that become family jokes and linger indefinitely. These statements are brought up over and over again and never fail to produce fond memories and laughs. They are applied to various situations whether they are related or not. These “inside” jokes are a phenomenon of family life, and give us a sense of belonging. Our families are exclusive clubs that one must share DNA or a marriage covenant to be granted admittance. What tickles our funny bone may not make a bit of sense to another family with another family culture, but to us it is the sweet bond of unity.
My daughters and I went on a trip recently. In the course of a few days, we had several of these spontaneous occurrences. One of these was at a buffet restaurant. I asked my daughter to go to the salad bar and smell the soup and tell me if it was any good. She said “No.” She had a quizzical look on her face, as she thought I meant to actually lean down and take a whiff of the soup pot. Of course I was not encouraging her to do anything that weird. I simply meant that when she was near the soup if it smelled good, to bring me some. After I had explained what I really meant, she went up to look at the soup. She came back and with great emphasis said, “Mom, that soup is missing EVERYTHING!” We all burst into gales of laughter.
It was chicken noodle soup. I immediately knew what she was saying. I knew what to expect at that restaurant, and I was merely interested in it’s fitness/freshness. I knew it was going to be a thin soup. It was basically just broth, thin noodles and smallish pieces of chicken. She, on the other hand, expected chicken soup like I make from scratch at home. My chicken soup contains large chunks of chicken, carrots, celery, onions, homemade wide noodles and brown rice and a whole host of spices. It is really more of a chicken stew. She was right, that soup was missing everything. My, what mileage we have gotten from that statement!
The seasons of life come and go as quickly as the seasons of the year. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Babyhood, Childhood, Adolescence, Adulthood. Time is flying into timelessness. Take time to enjoy the seasons as the pass, and remember that the imprint you make in your children’s lives today will continue to impact them as they enter adulthood and beyond.
Shauna Bagenstso 2010
Such a Lovely Evening
My husband and I just celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary. We haven’t done much to celebrate our anniversaries over the years. We usually try to grab an evening together, which includes a meal at a pleasant restaurant. Although our children are adults and nearly adults now and childcare is not an issue, we still live a very fast-paced lifestyle and it can be hard to carve out the time for such an event. We cherish these moments of “face time.” I still believe that the basis for a good marriage is great communication, which requires commitment and perseverance.
This year, as in years past, we weren’t able to celebrate on the actual date, but a few days later we were finally able to spend an evening together. My husband had planned to take me to the Keeter Center, which is a combination hotel and restaurant on the College of the Ozarks campus in Hollister, Missouri. .
If you are not familiar with College of the Ozarks, let me give you a brief history. Originally named School of the Ozarks, it was founded in 1906 by a Presbyterian minister. His mission was to offer education to “worthy” high school aged students in the Ozarks whose parents could not afford to send them to school. In exchange for this academic opportunity the students worked in the daily operations of the school and it’s supporting farm. In 1956 a two-year junior college program was added, and in 1965 it became a four year accredited college. The high school was phased out. Later, the name was changed to College of the Ozarks. Since then, it has blossomed into a beautiful campus with opportunities for students to develop both academically and spiritually. Students still earn their education by working in various capacities throughout the campus and the school has been affectionately dubbed “Hard Work U.”
The Keeter Center is one of the work venues for the students. It is a beautiful historic log lodge with a massive fireplace, and a gift shop, which sells the wares that are made by the students. It also houses the hotel, restaurant, a coffee booth and an ice cream counter. It contains an eclectic assortment of rustic furnishings. Gnarled carved wood chairs, a comfortable lounge area near the fireplace and historical exhibits grace the lobby. The lodgey rustic theme reminds me of Old Faithful Inn at Yellowstone.
I had been to an informal meeting in the lobby before, and had enjoyed sitting by the fire sipping my Chai Latte. My husband’s company had its Christmas party in one of the banquet rooms. I was impressed with that meal. Usually, catered banquets feature boring, run of the mill food. But the Keeter Center’s fare was different. I had a lovely Chicken Cordon Bleu. Not the machine made variety you buy in the freezer section, but honest to goodness real chicken stuffed with juicy ham and cheese sauce. The salad had real greens, not the typical cheap iceberg lettuce usually found at these events, and an interesting Apple dressing. The veggies were not overcooked, and the wait staff was very pleasant. With this in mind, I was very interested in having another meal at the Keeter Center.
So now we are back to our anniversary date. The dining room closes fairly early and we were later than we had intended. We arrived and saw some dear friends from church who were just leaving the dining room. We spoke with them briefly before we were seated. The room features a pressed copper ceiling and a rustic décor. Although the menu is what you would call “fine dining,” I felt very comfortable in nice black jeans and a cute ruffled top. We were seated toward the back of the room not far from the baby grand piano. The young lady was playing a pleasing medley. I assume from her skill that she is a music major, but I forgot to ask. Our waiter was a very tall, nice looking young man with a slight foreign accent. He was dressed in white linen, as was our table. We did ask him his major and found that he is a business administration student, and the Center of the basketball team. He gave us impeccable service, being both polite and articulate.
Our gracious young man brought us a basket of freshly baked wheat rolls and some very interesting cranberry-raisin biscuits. The biscuits are a house specialty. I found it funny, in an endearing sort of way. I have never been served biscuits in that setting before, but it fits the mood of the place, and the region. They were served with these adorable little cast iron skillets bearing apple butter and whipped butter. The apple butter is made on campus by students and is available for purchase. Apple butter figures prominently in the historical roots in this area. I had to try the biscuits, even though they didn’t really match the entrée I ordered. I like to experience the culture of the areas I visit. The biscuits were very good, and the apple butter was delicious. In fact, as I am writing this I have developed a serious craving for apple butter. I had to stop and eat some. Yum! Okay, I’m back. My husband ate the wheat roll, which complemented his Prime Rib and vegetables very well. The veggies were an assortment of grilled root vegetables. They looked healthy.
I had the Smoked Chicken Fettucine Alfredo. It was delightful and oh, so scrumptious! It was a fairly large portion, more than I could eat, and I was hungry. It had a green ring of oil around the outside rim of the plate. I had never been served green Alfredo before and asked our server why it was green. That made for a rather amusing moment. He looked very concerned as he explained that it was Basil oil and was meant to enhance the presentation, and in the next breath he offered to take it away and bring me some without the oil. I laughed and said that I wasn’t dissatisfied, just curious. He looked relieved. I guess other people don’t ask questions about the food.
While we were savoring our meals, we were enjoying a splendid conversation. We hardly noticed when everyone else vacated and we were the only diners left. We came down from our reverie and finished eating. As we were preparing to get up from the table; the Host came and told us that our bill had been paid. The friends, we had seen on the way in, waited in the lobby until we had ordered and paid for everything. God is so good to give us such amazing friends. We were truly blessed!
We have resolved to make more occasions to reconnect and appreciate one another’s company. Communication is the hallmark of any good relationship and cannot be viewed as a luxury. It must be a staple for the relationship to be vibrant. While it might not be practical to go out for a fancy meal every week, we can still make the time for a meaningful conversation. We used to walk every evening at the park and sit by the river and visit. Sometimes we have been able to meet for coffee and spend a few moments conversing about something other than schedules and business. There are numerous ways to create some time to be a couple. I encourage you to find one of those ways and ensure the health of your marriage.
And if you are ever in the Ozarks I encourage you stop into the Keeter Center. Sample their fine cuisine, purchase a fruitcake, some apple butter, or some pottery made by the students at the school. Stay at the historic hotel that boasts two presidents as former patrons, or have an ice cream cone or a latte in the lobby. You might also enjoy learning the history of the area at the Ralph Foster Museum, housed on campus. I think this is a time-honored institution that deserves our support.
Shauna Bagenstos 2010
This year, as in years past, we weren’t able to celebrate on the actual date, but a few days later we were finally able to spend an evening together. My husband had planned to take me to the Keeter Center, which is a combination hotel and restaurant on the College of the Ozarks campus in Hollister, Missouri. .
If you are not familiar with College of the Ozarks, let me give you a brief history. Originally named School of the Ozarks, it was founded in 1906 by a Presbyterian minister. His mission was to offer education to “worthy” high school aged students in the Ozarks whose parents could not afford to send them to school. In exchange for this academic opportunity the students worked in the daily operations of the school and it’s supporting farm. In 1956 a two-year junior college program was added, and in 1965 it became a four year accredited college. The high school was phased out. Later, the name was changed to College of the Ozarks. Since then, it has blossomed into a beautiful campus with opportunities for students to develop both academically and spiritually. Students still earn their education by working in various capacities throughout the campus and the school has been affectionately dubbed “Hard Work U.”
The Keeter Center is one of the work venues for the students. It is a beautiful historic log lodge with a massive fireplace, and a gift shop, which sells the wares that are made by the students. It also houses the hotel, restaurant, a coffee booth and an ice cream counter. It contains an eclectic assortment of rustic furnishings. Gnarled carved wood chairs, a comfortable lounge area near the fireplace and historical exhibits grace the lobby. The lodgey rustic theme reminds me of Old Faithful Inn at Yellowstone.
I had been to an informal meeting in the lobby before, and had enjoyed sitting by the fire sipping my Chai Latte. My husband’s company had its Christmas party in one of the banquet rooms. I was impressed with that meal. Usually, catered banquets feature boring, run of the mill food. But the Keeter Center’s fare was different. I had a lovely Chicken Cordon Bleu. Not the machine made variety you buy in the freezer section, but honest to goodness real chicken stuffed with juicy ham and cheese sauce. The salad had real greens, not the typical cheap iceberg lettuce usually found at these events, and an interesting Apple dressing. The veggies were not overcooked, and the wait staff was very pleasant. With this in mind, I was very interested in having another meal at the Keeter Center.
So now we are back to our anniversary date. The dining room closes fairly early and we were later than we had intended. We arrived and saw some dear friends from church who were just leaving the dining room. We spoke with them briefly before we were seated. The room features a pressed copper ceiling and a rustic décor. Although the menu is what you would call “fine dining,” I felt very comfortable in nice black jeans and a cute ruffled top. We were seated toward the back of the room not far from the baby grand piano. The young lady was playing a pleasing medley. I assume from her skill that she is a music major, but I forgot to ask. Our waiter was a very tall, nice looking young man with a slight foreign accent. He was dressed in white linen, as was our table. We did ask him his major and found that he is a business administration student, and the Center of the basketball team. He gave us impeccable service, being both polite and articulate.
Our gracious young man brought us a basket of freshly baked wheat rolls and some very interesting cranberry-raisin biscuits. The biscuits are a house specialty. I found it funny, in an endearing sort of way. I have never been served biscuits in that setting before, but it fits the mood of the place, and the region. They were served with these adorable little cast iron skillets bearing apple butter and whipped butter. The apple butter is made on campus by students and is available for purchase. Apple butter figures prominently in the historical roots in this area. I had to try the biscuits, even though they didn’t really match the entrée I ordered. I like to experience the culture of the areas I visit. The biscuits were very good, and the apple butter was delicious. In fact, as I am writing this I have developed a serious craving for apple butter. I had to stop and eat some. Yum! Okay, I’m back. My husband ate the wheat roll, which complemented his Prime Rib and vegetables very well. The veggies were an assortment of grilled root vegetables. They looked healthy.
I had the Smoked Chicken Fettucine Alfredo. It was delightful and oh, so scrumptious! It was a fairly large portion, more than I could eat, and I was hungry. It had a green ring of oil around the outside rim of the plate. I had never been served green Alfredo before and asked our server why it was green. That made for a rather amusing moment. He looked very concerned as he explained that it was Basil oil and was meant to enhance the presentation, and in the next breath he offered to take it away and bring me some without the oil. I laughed and said that I wasn’t dissatisfied, just curious. He looked relieved. I guess other people don’t ask questions about the food.
While we were savoring our meals, we were enjoying a splendid conversation. We hardly noticed when everyone else vacated and we were the only diners left. We came down from our reverie and finished eating. As we were preparing to get up from the table; the Host came and told us that our bill had been paid. The friends, we had seen on the way in, waited in the lobby until we had ordered and paid for everything. God is so good to give us such amazing friends. We were truly blessed!
We have resolved to make more occasions to reconnect and appreciate one another’s company. Communication is the hallmark of any good relationship and cannot be viewed as a luxury. It must be a staple for the relationship to be vibrant. While it might not be practical to go out for a fancy meal every week, we can still make the time for a meaningful conversation. We used to walk every evening at the park and sit by the river and visit. Sometimes we have been able to meet for coffee and spend a few moments conversing about something other than schedules and business. There are numerous ways to create some time to be a couple. I encourage you to find one of those ways and ensure the health of your marriage.
And if you are ever in the Ozarks I encourage you stop into the Keeter Center. Sample their fine cuisine, purchase a fruitcake, some apple butter, or some pottery made by the students at the school. Stay at the historic hotel that boasts two presidents as former patrons, or have an ice cream cone or a latte in the lobby. You might also enjoy learning the history of the area at the Ralph Foster Museum, housed on campus. I think this is a time-honored institution that deserves our support.
Shauna Bagenstos 2010
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