Barn Quilts. I’d never heard of them. I knew I about fabric quilts and had an assortment from two grandmothers, one mother, and many Mennonite Relief Sales. Grandma Leppke preferred appliqued, embroidered, and hand-painted quilt blocks. Grandma Gaede chose pieced blocks. I would love to know the story behind the friendship quilt with a middle block that says, “God Is Love 1937.” The women who stitched embroidered their names: Minnie Cornelsen, Mrs. Ben B. Funk Mrs. Barthel Reiswig, Mrs. Henry Seibel. I wondered why Minnie used her first name and not her husband’s. Even if she were a widow, most likely she’d still carry his.

In June 2014, four of us Colorado women packed up an ice chest, homemade cinnamon rolls, print-outs from http://barnquiltinfo.com/map-CO.html and headed to northeast Colorado. Morgan County has a reputation for hail and tornadoes. We watched the skies. We were excited. It was like a treasure hunt.

Our barn quilt adventure took us down dirt roads. We got lost. We didn’t know barn quilts could be found on silos. We reveled in nostalgic old barns against broad blue skies. We accidentally ended up at a buffalo feedlot. We saw cornfields shredded by recent hail. We stumbled upon cute ranchettes and bet that the next-generation saw dollars in grandpa’s farm, so sub-divided. We experienced local dining where we were the obvious non-locals. And, we ended up at a deteriorated house with paint-peeled outbuildings, old cars on cinder blocks, and something shroud-like on the clothesline. Curtains fluttered in open windows. Was anyone home? No quilts anywhere, even though the tour map indicted so. We figured it was part of the Bates Motel Chain. We locked out doors, rolled up the windows, and got outta there!

 

What we learned:

• The Barn Quilt tour offered an up-close view of a part of Colorado we knew little about.
• Weather reports of tornadoes at Ft. Morgan and Wiggins have more meaning now.
• We all want a Quilt Block hanging on our house or garage!

Suggestions;

• Take a map. Your GPS might not work in off-grid areas where Barn Quilts may be found.
• Don’t expect absolute directions and destinations. Wandering around happens.
• Don’t be afraid to get dirty.
• Take along binoculars for barns that may not be accessible on very private property.
• At least one person in the group needs to be familiar with quilt block patterns. I was not. I was familiar with driving on dirt roads, identifying what was growing in the fields, and I had a sense of direction.

 

Resources:

– Website we Ft. Morgan, CO: http://barnquiltinfo.com/map-CO.htm.

– Every Barn Tells a Story by Ann Zemke and Diane Entrikin

We left Ft. Morgan and drove home to black skies and rain. That evening1 to 2-inch diameter hail pounded Morgan County. The farms were no longer a vague space on the map. We visualized smashed cornfields and remembered the farm folks we’d talked to.

Check out barn quilt tours in your state. Gather friends or like-minded quilt enthusiasts and take a field trip. Anticipate adventures.

(This was printed in “The Country Register” (Kansas), Aug./Sept. 2014)

 

 

 

 

My favorite aunt just turned 89. Her red curly hair has turned gray; in my mind, it frames her face like a halo. As far as I’ve known, beneath that halo, there’s always been a smile.

Aunt Marianna has brought a smile to my face plenty of times. Take for instance one Thanksgiving when I visited her house. I brought an uncomfortable marrow-deep chill with me and couldn’t get warm.  Aunt Marianna poured hot water into a basin and set it on the floor before me. “Here,” she said. “Soak your feet. It seems that when feet are warm, the whole body feels warmer.” It worked. I smiled. I smiled too when she made her typical breakfast of fried rice, a tradition carried on from being a missionary in Japan.

She’s an adventurer. She and her husband back-packed around Europe when they were in their 60s; over fence stiles and into pastures of curd-chewing cows and wooly sheep.  Years later, those stories enticed me to do a walking trip through the Cotswalds in England.

She’s an inspiration.  From early on, she and my uncle opened their home and lives to international students – and in my adult years I was motivated to do the same.

When I taught a graduate class on aging, I asked who had a role model for growing older. Not a hand went up. Every student, most in their 20s, looked puzzled.. “Older” might have been age 40. Their assignment? Choose a grandparent-age person who they admired, and write about that person.

Now in her late 80s, she regularly reads stories to five classes in a nearby school. Reading isn’t “just reading,” it comes with visuals, items to touch, and conversations. Easy? Aunt Marianna has an inherited hearing loss.

Now in her late 80s, she walks a mile around the college track. Easy? Not with health issues that come with “almost 90.”

Now, in her late 80s, Marianna and her daughter, Sharon, regularly visit female inmates in the county jail who are awaiting trial, and the state prison. In the county jail, they sing along with a CD and have a Bible study.

Easy? No. Some days, at the county jail, mother and daughter are turned away due to a lockdown in the jail.

The prison is worse. “Easy” is not a word found anywhere. The guards don’t assume Marianna is a benign little old lady – dressed neatly in a red brocade kimono  top. Who knows? She could be carrying contraband, a crowbar, drugs, a chainsaw, explosives, chocolates. She has to empty her pockets, pull up her pants legs and show the bottoms of her shoeless feet; then, because she cannot go through the metal detector due to her pacemaker, she is “wanded.” She also has to point out her two hearing aids and show a written statement from her doctor for wearing them.

Some days are more worse than others. The prison does not allow visitors to wear hats, hooded jackets, or carry an umbrella. During the Christmas holidays, just before her 89^th birthday, Marianna got drenched in a cold downpour while waiting to go in. Out of sensible concern for herself and her mother, Sharon urged, “Let’s go home, Mom. We can come back another day.”  My role model with a dripping halo could have done just that: shed wet clothes for a cozy robe, put her feet up, and sipped a cup of steaming tea; instead, she replied, “We’re already here. I want to see one more woman.” These are not nice women and nice visits. Several women they regularly visit are in for murder. All the same, the stringently searched angels of grace and mercy buy the inmate lunch, read the Bible, pray, and encourage her.

Now in her late 80s, my aunt’s home and kitchen table welcome college students, long-time international friends, and ex-inmates. Much like the father of the Prodigal Son, when she heard an ex-inmate was coming to visit, she set out a festive table with lit candles and brewed hot tea, and greeted her with a warm embrace. The ex-inmate could have repulsed many people. Easy? Not for a judgmental person. But, even though Marianna has a strong moral compass, she isn’t judgmental. When confronted with someone’s hideous and unspeakable crime, she asks, “What would Jesus do?” She manifests the hands and face of Jesus through open arms and the gift of unconditional love and grace.

All the same, she acknowledges that what she does wouldn’t work for everyone.

“My elderly next door neighbor would be horrified if she found out I was entertaining ex-inmates in my home,” she says with a soft chuckle.

Aunt Marianna isn’t climbing Mt. Everest, wrestling alligators, cleaning up a town after a hurricane, saving the whales, or learning to hang-glide, but she’s an adventurer. Her adventures are a prescription of her own. They match her God-given personality, passions, setting, and resources. And, her adventurers are encouraged by a family of cheerleading children, grand-children, great-grandchildren, and a host of other people who call her “mom” and “grandma.”

Age Doesn’t Matter When it Comes to Adventure