Eshtine

quilting

This piece is so old, the Quilt-of-the-Month raffle no longer exists.

I grew up swaddled in quilts.
I was born on a Thursday, quilting day at St. Thomas of Aquin, our parish church. By that time, my mother, had been quilting there two years. (She remembers starting in 1973 because that was the year my brother started morning kindergarten, leaving her mornings free.)
I spent nearly every Thursday the first five years of my life in the church basement. During grade school I ate lunch with the quilters. In the summer I learned to stitch with ladies I called Mrs. Korte, Mrs. Hartlieb, or Mrs. Koppe but thought of as Martha, Marge or Charlotte. I also had the important duty of watching the coffee pot and reporting when the coffee was ready.
It's no surprise, then, that I have an interest in keeping the art of quiltmaking alive. It's also no surprise that I am especially interested in helping the quilters at St. Thomas stay active.
I don't mean to imply public demand for quilts has slackened. Quilts are ubiquitous, as they always have been, since someone discovered long long ago how three layers of fabric stitched together are warmer than one. Fewer people use them as dowries, but more people use them as artwork. They are even used to make statements--witness the AIDS Quilt by the Names Project or the wolf-themed quilt done by the Wild Canid Survival Center some years back.
Still, the future of quilting, and the future of the quilting circle, is uncertain. Young quilters more often work alone. Quilting circles are mostly comprised of elderly women. As they become ill or die, not enough young quilters replenish the ranks.
St. Thomas is a microcosm of this trend. Not very long ago, a good day was fifteen women working around two full size quilts. Now my mother says she's lucky if seven women join her. The three I mentioned earlier--Martha, Marge and Charlotte--have all died. Martha was head of the quilters before my mother. Marge was my favorite when I was very young. We shared a game: I would build a tower of blocks, she would shuffle up to it and raise her foot as if to kick the tower down, and then at the last moment she'd "change her mind." I knew that tower never faced a real threat from her. Charlotte I remember not so much from quilting day as by her food surplus. She'd call us as soon as she had come home from working a fish fry; she would have a few gallons of leftover cole slaw to share.
All these women joined the circle for one simple reason: quilting alone is boring. Non-quilters don't realize how repetitive it is to do that one stitch over yards and yards of fabric. They don't realize how long it takes to complete one quilt. One of Martha's favorite stories was of the brother at St. Mary's who asked the circle there, "So how many of those do you finish in a night?" (The quilters at St. Thomas may finish one quilt in two months.)
A quilting circle divides the work that might be too much for one. However, it benefits more people than just its participants. St. Thomas' group certainly benefited me. My mother tells me that a chief reason she brought me along on Thursdays was that a "crabby old lady" lived near us. She wanted me to grow up knowing senior citizens who were cheerful, giving souls.
Today, St. Thomas' circle functions the way it always has: Someone brings in embroidered patches or a patchwork top. My mother marks the top with a pattern to stitch. After the quilt is bordered, stitched and bound, it is raffled through Quilt-of-the-Month ticket sales and proceeds go to the church.
St. Thomas' active quilting circle is a rarity these days. With the shortage of hands, many once-thriving circles in St. Louis have disbanded. Sometimes this brings new blood to St. Thomas--when Nazareth United Church of Christ's circle quit, two members took up quilting here.
I know people who have taken classes in quilting, bought pattern books, bought finished quilts themselves and marvel at their beauty. I suspect that many think there are no quilting circles left, that if they want to quilt they must stitch alone. I advise any who have this thought to stop by St. Thomas of Aquin's church basement some Thursday morning. There'll be coffee waiting for you.