Saturday, October 16, 2010

15 October 2010

The Quilt

I looked at the individual stitches for at least ten minutes.  Each tiny triangular scrap bordered by finely hand-lain stitches about a millimeter long.  Professor Analisa DeGrave stopped by yesterday and handed me this quilt.  Like I have said, the community has been so amazing throughout my entire project that my one sleeping bag has turned into a literal heap of warm and cozy blankets. 

The nights are bitterly cold, so it goes without saying that these gestures were more than appreciated.  This quilt was different, however.   When she handed it to me, she locked onto my eyes and told me that it was a family heirloom from the depression era.  I promised her that I would guard it with my life, and I have.  But in looking at the stitches, and talking to Analisa, this quilt, this wonderful gesture, has come to embody this entire experience for me. 

I got to thinking about the person who made such perfect stitches. They were at one time cold, that much is for certain. But instead of going out and buying a blanket, they decided to create something that had never been created before.  They probably had no idea it would be passed down from generation to generation and land on the shivering body of a college student in a shanty.  Just like the materials of my shanty, from each grain of rice to each scavenged barn board, the individual scraps that make this quilt whole are precious.  Even the word “depression” conjures up images of huddled masses standing in unemployment lines, under quilts just like this one.  It has it’s own history.

The people I’m trying to understand also have a history.  They have struggle and pain in their pasts just like we do.  They have a body that shivers at night and feels hunger during the day.  They put together their last precious scraps to construct a life for themselves and their families. 

They are just people.  Anyone can identify with that.


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