Showing posts with label quilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quilt. Show all posts

Thursday, January 13, 2011

I Don't Know How She Did It!

     Last night I went to bed cold and hungry.  I could have found something to eat that fits my current dietary restrictions  (no sugar, no corn, no gluten), but chose to be disciplined instead.  The cold is another matter... We have the wood stove, but it simply will not heat the entire house; we knew that when we got it.  We keep the central heat on automatic, with the thermostat set at 60 degrees.  Now, sixty degrees is a might chilly...  We also have an electric blanket, so I usually pre-warm the bed.  But, last night I just couldn't get warm, couldn't get comfortable, couldn't sleep.  CassPurr tried to comfort me with his wonderful purring in my ear, but I still couldn't sleep. Moshe was snoring like a freight train, so I knew he wasn't going to participate in  any conversations any time soon...  So, I thought and prayed.  Prayed and thought.  Tried to think of everybody I know... what does he or she need from God.  I prayed for our country.  I prayed for our finances;  we, like so many people nowadays, are struggling to make ends meet... What will become of us?

...an accident from the 1930's...
     But, before the above-mentioned  "freight train" arrived, I mentioned to Moshe that I'd been thinking about my grandmother, and I just don't know how she did it. She lived on a farm in Michigan.  She was widowed at an early age; had several children to take care of.  Lost two children in an auto accident in the 1930's. (That must have been one of the earliest auto accident fatalities, no?)   She brought up those children during the Great Depression. She must have done a wonderful job, because my Mom says that their childhood was "just like The Waltons" - they even all had red hair!  Mom would've been the equivalent of "Elizabeth" - the youngest Walton girl...

The Waltons

 I never knew my grandmother all that well.  I saw her once a year at most until she died when I was sixteen. Whenever I saw her, she was cheerful enough.  Not overly talkative, but pleasant.  She ALWAYS wore a dark, printed dress with a full apron over it. Her hair was kept up in a rather untidy bun; but, a couple times I saw her brushing her hair out in the morning... It seemed like it was a mile long to a little girl - especially a little girl with short hair.  Her hair had been red when she was younger;  by the time I knew her, it was white like mine is now... with some dark hair in the back... just like mine.
      Minnie Harper.  A good country name.  With children's names such as Elva, Luella, Milo and Louie - to name only a few out the ten she bore.  They are all in heaven now, except my Mom.
  

corn crib,barn, and a few of the "aimless chickens"...

     But, how did she do it?  She lived in a big hand-built, fieldstone house. She never did get that indoor plumbing.  She had a pump, which, when properly primed, would supply one end of the kitchen with cold water. In her later years, different sons and daughters offered to build her a bathroom, but she declined their offers every time.  They got her a TV, but the only time it was  on was when company turned it on. When it was on, she would leave the room.  I remember her saying, "Those people on there can look right up my dress."  The family insisted that she have a phone, and someone got it installed for her.  She would answer it, but never once placed a call. She cooked, baked bread, and heated the house with two wood stoves. (Actually, I think one of them was a coal stove, come to think of it.)  She had dozens of chickens, which wandered aimlessly throughout her property... Hence, there wasn't a blade of grass to speak of in her "yard".
Grama's quilted pillow, alongside my Mom's doll, Tracy

   I remember when she had milking cows in the barn, and a mean-looking bull, which we kids were told to stay far away from. (Steer clear of the steer, dear?)  There were cats, but not the friendly kind like I had back home.  And she always had a dog.  I don't know how many dogs she had over the years, but it was always one at a time, they were always big brown dogs, and they were all named "Pat". The first "Pat" I remember was really smart and he knew how to turn the doorknobs and open the doors;  we kids thought that was just super-neato!

     In her "spare time" she quilted.  I have a couple pieces of her work, and they are treasures to me.  Completely hand-stitched; she didn't own a sewing machine.  I think she embroidered some, too, although I don't have any mementos of that.
     Amazing. I'm sure she read quite a bit. I never heard a radio playing in her house, although she may have had one.  She had a piano, but I never heard her play it. (Usually, it was locked when we visited... I was always insulted by that, because I actually played well. But, I guess when you're expecting a passel of kids, you'd be wise to lock the thing up before they all thought they should pound on it!)

     Of course, we always visited in the Summertime. I can't imagine how cold it must have been in January or February.  The closest house was a couple miles away, and the closest relative was about ten miles away.  She didn't have a car, but family took her to town "to trade eggs" every week or two.  There was an apple orchard, and fields of corn, wheat, etc, which my Uncle Louie cared for when I was growing up.  But, before that,  I can only guess that my Grama had to do it... Her and her children.  Wow.  How  DID  she do it?
  
some of my teacup collection



     It was a treat to be allowed to play upstairs at Grama's house.  There were two or three bedrooms up there, plus a little alcove where I loved to play.  I played with miniature china - real china - that had been my mother's when she was a little girl.   I still have one cup and saucer from that set!  Can you imagine?  In my later years, I started collecting cups and saucers.  I used to have two or three times as many as I do now... gave a bunch away, and sold a few as well.  Some are very ornate, some are probably valuable; but, the most-treasured one is that simple white miniature cup and saucer that somehow survived all these years...
  




the little teacup, alongside a "fancy" one



     When Grama died, the family put out the word that anyone who wanted anything should lay claim to it.  I told my Mom that I would LOVE to have one of Grama's old black rocking chairs.  I remember there were a few of them, all lined up in one room, alongside a couple of sofas, a daybed, the piano - it was a BIG room!





the old rocker, near our pot-belly stove...





      Mom got me that rocking chair and I still have it.  Decades ago, I stripped off the blackened varnish, to discover gorgeous golden oak.  Mom said she found out later that nobody took any of the other rockers... I can't imagine why.  It seems a shame, but when the property sold, the house was full of old rockers, china cabinets,  beautiful chiming clocks, probably the huge upright piano...with its' key.
  







 So, how did she do it?  I can only surmise that she had faith in God.  And, that God saw her through those many years, provided for her, cared for her, loved her, cheered her.
     And He will do the same for me - even when it's cold and I am hungry.



         Shalom  Y'all - Twyla

Monday, November 1, 2010

to sleep, perchance to dream

"Now I lay me down to sleep..."

   ...or, a night in the day of yours truly. Sleep is a precious commodity. REM (rapid eye movement) sleep is the time in which the body heals; it is also the time of dreaming. Every now and then somebody will say to me that they never dream.  I always reply that if you never dreamed you'd be dead... you just don't remember your dreams. The human body requires REM time for daily maintenance and repairs; dreams are sort of a biproduct of brain repair.
     There was a time when I slept a solid eight hours without waking; nowadays I'm not so fortunate in the sleep department; but, I've always had many dreams.  Spiritual/prophetic dreams. Ho-hum dreams. Dreams of flying or climbing.  And dreams where I'd wake myself up laughing. (I've never heard anyone else say they have these!)  Now, I did dream a little bit last night but I don't remember the dream's content... it must've been one of those ho-hum dreams... What I do remember is a lot of the other nighttime occurances at the Ben-David ranch:
     #1 The human burrito:  My hubby has this incredible trick .  He starts out with no covers - says he's warm enough.  Then, when I settle in real good - maybe not yet asleep, but, comfortable. y'know?... he IS asleep, gets cool, and grasps a corner of the quilt and rolls himself up in it.  Thus, the title, the human burrito.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  He doesn't mean to do it;  he's asleep.  There is really not a mean bone in his body - especially when it comes to me... But, I have learned to keep a spare blanket or quilt within reach. The human burrito cannot be unwrapped easily!  So, I grab the extra covers.  This, of course, involves moving my body, getting repositioned with the new, COLD blanket, reassuring the various animals that it is NOT mealtime - I repeat, it is NOT mealtime, and settling back in.
     #2 The Itch:  I had a broken neck some thirty years ago.  Praise God there's not much residual damage. A sore neck most of the time, and a weakness of the right arm and hand, but I'm fairly used to that.  But, recently, I started developing a new problem associated with bad neck injuries: Brachioradial Pruritis.  What this means is that the nerve that ennervates the shoulder and arms is irritated due to pressure in the neck area, causing severe itching at the other end of the nerve.  Itching. Unbearable itching. From everything I've read about it, there is no medication that really works.  One day Caladryl will provide some relief,  the next day it won't.  Then, you try capsacion and it works for a day or two, then fails.  Then you try hydrogen peroxide, tea tree oil, you-name-it.  Sometimes things bring relief; often, they don't.  My shoulders and arms are covered with scabs, bruises from scratching, and new red bumps waiting to be scratched open... Lovely.  If you ever have insomnia and are looking for something to do with your nightime hours, develop brachioradial pruritis, and you pass the time actively. And, when you get up to find whatever lotion or potion you're applying to the itch, be sure to let the animals know that it is NOT mealtime - I repeat, it is NOT mealtime.  Then, settle back in.
     #3 The cat:  Those of you who have read my blog before know that CassPurr was gone for about a month, and that we got him back a week or so ago. CassPurr's favorite place on earth is our bed - day and night.  He occasionally leaves the boudoir for a meal or for the litter box, and every now and then, he actually wanders through the house.  But, for the most part, he loves that bed!  When I'm in it, he goes for the pillow area, placing his body on top of my head or across my face.  Apparently, he's been watching Moshe, because he tries to roll himself up in my hair - the feline burrito in the making!  Cassie also likes to lay on my stomach and stare into my face, occasionally taking his little paw to pat my cheek.  It is endearing when I'm watching TV... not so much at 1 AM, when I've finally fallen asleep... This morning, around 4 or 5, he desperately woke me up.  He had the strangest little look on his face!  He sort of looked panicky - big eyes, as if he was going to burst.  (Prophetic.)  Then, he started making those feline pre-barf sounds.  I shot up in the bed, scooped him up, and placed him on the floor - just in time.  Three barf sounds.  Ugh.  He had eaten a mouse.  Two piles of mouse entrails and one head.  Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.   Nobody DARED act as if it was mealtime...
CassPurr - friend of birds: mice - not so much!
    
                                Like I said, I USED to sleep eight hours straight.  Nevertheless...
                                 Shalom Y'all - Twyla