The Virgin Quilt

July 5, 2016

Yesterday, I finally got up enough nerve to write some of what I've been thinking about quilting.  Truth be told, I feel a bit presumptuous about doing this at all.  I mean, who wants to read the ramblings of an old grouch, esp. upon the subject of quilting?  And, especially from a guy who's only been quilting for a year and a half.  And, from a guy! 



When it comes to quilting, it's a woman's world.  Until this past year, I thought that I had at least a passing understanding of women.  Ahhh, the foolishness and folly of it all.  Until recently, I had never been the only guy in a group of women.  Meeeoooooow...  They're a bit catty sometimes.

But I digress...

Then I got to thinking that this is something that might make me happy even if no one else ever read it.  So that got me to thinking that maybe I shouldn't care much about what you think.  So read on if you want.  Makes me no nevermind.

My thoughts turned last night to the first quilt that I ever made.  The Virgin Quilt.

As I thought about it, I recalled two emotions that the Virgin Quilt (VQ) evoked in me.  The first emotion happened as I was putting it together and continued sometime after it was completed: pride.  I was simply infatuated with the idea that I made this thing from basically nothing. 

See, what happened was this...
I needed to do some sewing for another thing that I was making and I reckoned that it would be easier if I had a basic sewing machine.  So, I went and bought a cheapie machine.  It worked OK and I finished the bit of sewing that needed doing.  Right about the same time, there were some clothes lying around that my fiance' was about to throw out and I looked at that pile of clothes and thought, "Why couldn't I cut all that crap up and make a blanket with my little sewing machine?  I mean, how hard could it be?"  A year and a half ago, that seemingly innocent thought
began an adventure that I could not have anticipated.

As you can see in the picture, all I did was cut all those old clothes and scraps into squares and sew them together.  It was no big deal.  Of course, I didn't know about batting or quilting.  I didn't even know that what I had done was known as "piecing."  I just knew that it wasn't a blanket yet.  And, I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to call it a blanket.

So, my point here is that I felt pride in my new blanket.

As I thought more about it, I recalled a recent experience that evoked an entirely different feeling: embarrassment.  I was asked to show my quilts at a local quilt meeting and I decided to take this group of strangers on a bit of a journey.  The first thing that I showed them was the VQ.  I hadn't looked at it in a while, so imagine my surprise when I held it up and was embarrassed by my work.  How had I gone from pride to embarrassment?

It reminded me of that special someone in high school that you couldn't live without.  Remember her or him?  For me it was a her (I say that to let you know that not all male quilters are light in their loafers).  I can still see her goofy face.  Man, did I want to kiss her!  Looking back on it, I really can't say why.  She wasn't all that good looking.  She was a silly high school girl full of drama.  And, she wasn't all that smart.  What was the attraction?  It's hard to say, but it occurs to me that hormones play a similar role in a teenage boy that beer seems to play in a middle-aged guy.

Turns out that I did get to kiss her a few times.  Problem was that neither of us were very good kissers.  I figure that, if she thought much about it, she'd wonder some of the same things about me that I'm thinking about her right now.

Faded "love." Faded pride.

So, that's what I was thinking as I drifted off to sleep last night.  Even so, I'm more embarrassed about her than I am about the VQ.  At least the VQ works properly.

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TheCurmudgeon