The Treasure by Kristi Sparks
photo by buckle1535
The warmth provided by this intricately stitched quilt has comforted four generations now. Pieced together and quilted by my Great Grandmother Marshall and her deaf sister Ruby during the late 1930′s, the quilt has known many situations, households and family members. Great Grandma and Great-Great Aunt Ruby made the quilt out of necessity. It grew very cold in those West Virginia hills at night. Protection came from fabrics that were put together with love.
When Grandpa and Grandma Marshall decided to move to New Mexico in 1944, the quilt was passed down to them, not only as a blanket for warmth but also as a reminder of roots and a feeling of home. Several years later, Grandpa left Grandma and their four children. He traveled back to West Virginia. Grandma and the children chose to stay in the lush Pecos River Valley of Fort Sumner. The quilt stayed behind, too.
When the dust blew, my mother, her twin sister, and their two brothers hid under the quilt where clean, breathable air could be found. In the winter, when the cold blizzards blew across the plains, the quilt once again provided warmth to a chilly soul.
When Uncle Johnny and Uncle Bill traveled off to the service, the quilt wrapped tightly around grandma’s shoulders to remind her that her boys were protecting her and providing a safety blanket for our country. When the service and the loss of his infant daughter became too much for Johnny, he took his own life. Grandma hid under the quilt to hide her tears and shame.
After Johnny passed at Easter in 1965, the quilt was folded and put away on a closet shelf at Grandma’s house. When all Grandma’s children had moved on to families of their own, the quilt was removed from the shelf only to be transferred from Fort Sumner to Albuquerque. It rested there on a closet shelf hidden by towels and sheets until Grandma’s daughter, my mother Maggie, a quilter herself, rediscovered it one day while cleaning Grandma’s house. It was wrapped in a plastic zipper bag which is supposed to cause quilt fabric to erode and maybe even mold. However, after at least twenty years there, it was in perfect condition. Maggie quickly remembered the significance of this old cloth and asked to have it. Grandma quickly obliged.
The quilt then traveled back across New Mexico, folded carefully on the backseat of a Buick. On that journey the Buick and the quilt paused briefly in Fort Sumner at the graves of Uncle Johnny and his infant daughter. Once in Clovis, the quilt laid perfectly and proudly on a display shelf in Maggie’s chifferobe, bunched among other antique quilts.
When Grandma grew weary and old she asked to have the quilt returned to her. Maggie agreed to bring the quilt back to Grandma, although she was puzzled by the request. Oddly enough, Grandma asked for the quilt to be folded and placed back in that same cabinet behind the same towels and sheets. Maybe she felt her own end was coming and had a need for things to be as they once were. Whatever her reasoning the beautiful all knowing quilt became hidden once more.
After Grandma’s passing on January 1, 2002, the quilt was returned to Clovis but this time to reside with me: Great Granddaughter and Great-Great Niece to its makers; Granddaughter of Grandpa Marshall, a theater owner and Methodist preacher I will never know; niece to Uncle Johnny, a proud member of the 1st Honor Guard in Washington D.C. – a mystery man whom lives on in the eyes of Kenny, Clay and Connor; daughter to Maggie, a quilt maker.
I now guard and protect the quilt as it has guarded and protected family before me. It hangs, proudly displayed, in my house. One day I will share the quilt’s history with my babies and pass it on to one of them to wrap up in for comfort, leave folded on a shelf, or display in their homes.cent
