We all have relatives now gone that we never knew, right? In my case it was Aunt Rose.
Now, Aunt Rose wasn't my aunt per se. No, she was the sister of my grandfather, Luther Abraham Weaver. So she was my great aunt. Growing up, she, L.A. and brother Harrison lived in a small house in Windsor, Mo., which if you don't know is just south of Knob Knoster.
(Okay, that probably doesn't help much. Just know that Knob Knoster – a great name! – is the home of Whiteman Air Force Base, which houses the nation's B-2 bombers. No typical small town, eh?)
As I was growing up, I'd hear family members talk of "Aunt Rose" and mainly in the context of her quilts. You see, Rose's father, Easton, a farmer, died when she was only 6. Her brothers would go on to get degrees at the University of Missouri. But Rose hung back in Windsor to help her mother do quilts and embroidery to make ends meet.
Bill's QuiltIt had been years since I'd thought of Rose. But a couple of weekends ago, I was at the family cabin in Michigan. And my sister, Mary Ann, had brought along a quilt to keep warm. (The cabin's heat isn't the best.) I spied the quilt, and Mary Ann reminded me that it was a gift from Aunt Rose.
I should have taken a picture. But if I recall, the quilt featured a traditional fan-pattern block – not far removed from some of the blocks featured in Jeanne Poore's Fan Quilt Memories book.
This hardly was Rose's sole creation. Another of Rose's quilts was handed down to Linda, my oldest sister. And yet another to my brother, Bill, who lived in nearby Columbia for many years and has emerged as the family's genealogy expert. And a third to my sister, Barb. I'm sure there are countless others scattered about.
I never got a quilt. At least I don't think so. I may have, and I just didn't appreciate what I had and let it slip away. It never occurred to me until now to even ask the question!
Linda's QuiltBut that's not a big deal, because it heartens me that Aunt Rose was such a quilter. Mary Ann's quilt at the cabin was basic white and finely done. It's also obvious from Linda and Bill's quilts that Rose also enjoyed bright colors in her fabric! Barb reports to me that her quilt is bright red.
It's interesting to me that Rose, a relative I'd forgotten so much about, could zoom into the present and suddenly be so relevant.
Then again, you quilters know that quilts provide continuity between generations. Each stitch can be as significant as a diary entry, a signature on some time-worn document, or a faded missive to family "back home." Rose's quilts help keep my siblings warm. There's a lot of comfort in that.
I think I need to drive over to Windsor some day soon, and find the small frame house where Mom Weaver and Rose did their quilting.
We all have our historic monuments. That's one of mine.
Doug Weaver is the publisher of Kansas City Star Quilts.
