Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff


As I was admiring a quilt that was made by my great grandmother today, I began to ponder why I have never attempted to make one myself. “It couldn’t be that hard to do, could it?” I thought. With the rise of all our new technology, appliances to help make our jobs easier we somehow have ended up with another lost form of art. I found myself thinking about my great- grandmother once again. What her life would have been like. What made her cry, what made her smile?  I wonder why she chose the colors and patterns she did. When I think of quilting I think of moments in life we are impacted by. It could be a bell ringing moment that always leaves you smiling. Or those ones that leave spoors in your heart. Each moment is a colored pattern with its own design. Some may be more vibrant than others. Maybe those ones are odd colored fabric the typical person would never throw into a quilt.  On the other hand, the patterns that don’t stand out could be those times you would prefer not to remember. Yet, they still make themselves comfortable in an unlit corner in the back of your mind. So, you obviously add them in. Yet, one square 4 by 4 quilting block does not make a quilt. Just as one moment does not make a person who they are. We are derived of many good and bad blocks. Yet, it is those same blocks that give us individuality. Just not as colorful as an old quilt.


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