Make Quilts Not War by Arlene Sachitano Read Free Book Online Page A

volunteers would stay with it and answer questions about not only about her quilt but pieced quilts in the sixties in general.
    “Hey,” Lauren said to Harriet an hour later. She’d just come into the building, shaking the rain from her jacket as she took it off. “I had to work with my client,” she explained. “Did you know Colm Byrne is setting up in the next building? Not his flunkies, the man himself.”
    “Really?” Carla said.
    “Would I lie to you?” Lauren shot back.
    “Can we go see?”
    “It’s your lucky day, honey,” Mavis said. “Marjory’s bringing a cart full of quilts for us to take to the auditorium and hang.”
    “I’m going to see if Jenny’s done,” Harriet said. “This may be our only chance to see Colm Byrne.” She went to find their friend, returning minutes later with Jenny in tow.
    “Is that little guy tuning the guitar Colm?” Carla whispered when the group had reached the auditorium.
    They stretched their first quilt open and held the edges of the hanging sleeve so that Mavis and Connie could slip the rod that would suspend the quilt into it.
    “I have to admit, he looks bigger on TV,” Mavis said. “Not that I’ve spent a lot of time watching him, mind you, but he’s been interviewed on all the local morning shows this week.”
    “I must have missed that,” Jenny said, unfolding a cathedral window quilt made from small-scale floral prints in mauves and pinks. “Then again, I was never into that sort of music.”
    “Not even in the sixties?” Harriet asked.
    “Not even then,” Jenny said and cringed as someone struck a loud and discordant note on a guitar. “I wanted to grow up to be a concert pianist. I listened to classical music.”
    “Wow,” Carla said.
    “I listened to a lot of classical music when I was young, but only because it was part of my parent’s carefully orchestrated plan for my education,” Harriet said. “I also had to learn how to play piano and cello. I listened to grunge bands whenever no one was looking.”
    “I thought my childhood was weird,” Lauren said, “but you definitely have me beat.”
    “What was so weird about your childhood?” Harriet asked.
    “We’re talking about you, Miss I Played Piano and Cello While I Was Still in Diapers.”
    “Hey, it wasn’t my fault I was an overachiever by proxy.”
    “He’s staring at us,” Carla said in a hushed voice.
    “No, he’s not,” Lauren said. “He’s practicing his come-hither look. It’s kind of creepy, if you ask me.”
    “Can you gals help us here?” Aunt Beth asked.
    “If you can tear yourself away,” Mavis added.
    “Why do you have to have so many helpers?” Carla asked Jenny as they prepared a red-and-yellow patchwork crib quilt to be hung.
    “The committee chose several quilts that represent the styles of the times to be displayed on those raised platforms. We all have to answer questions about the style of our quilt and quilting in general during the sixties. They finally found a polyester double-knit quilt that looked decent and wasn’t too heavy to hang without sagging. One of the Small Stitches quilt group had one that was four-inch squares in crayon colors that had been tied with yarn. The yarn ties were also crayon colors that coordinated with the squares.”
    “That sounds kind of cool,” Harriet said.
    “It wasn’t actually done in the sixties,” Mavis said knowingly. “Joyce’s mother had cut all the squares but never made it up. Joyce put it together and did the yarn tying.”
    “Still sounds interesting,” Harriet said.
    “Do you have any more wigs with the costume leftovers?” Jenny asked. “The Small Stitches are all wearing polyester outfits and doing their hair up in beehives. My two teammates want to coordinate, and they were hoping to find afro wigs like the one I have.”
    “I do still have wigs, and if we comb the curls out, they’ll match. Tell them to drop by, and I can fix them up.”
    “Thanks,” Jenny looked