An Anchor for Your Soul

An Anchor for Your Soul 

 


 

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Using Quilts to Tell a Story and Show the Way

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Using Quilts to Teach Life Lessons...or Show Way to freedom. My grandmother used her sewing skills (and her old treadle sewing machine ) to make quilts for her family. In her later years she was careful to craft a personalized quilt for each of her children and grandchildren. My gift quilt was constructed of fabric swatches from the polyester clothes popular during my teenage years. Every time I pick up that quilt, I see a new patch of cloth reminding me of grandmother or other family member. It is truly a personal treasure for me.   When I entered by doctoral program at the University of Memphis, I didn’t have much time to think about family or friends. Graduate programs can be 24/7 timetables that last for years. Even though I was absorbed in writing and research, my family was still thinking of me. Like my grandmother, a good friend was also talented with crafting quilts. She contacted every one of my family members, and friends near and far, to invite th...
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The Adamec's : My Immigrant Family

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  Michael Adamec was born in the year 1920 near Yonkers, New York. His mother Susie was an immigrant coming in from Yugoslavia. Daddy explained that she was actually from Slovenia, and her people lived "in the mountain regions somewhere in the north".  I'm not sure of the location but she was clearly of eastern European origin. My grandmother Susie came to this country seeking a better life. I know nothing of her family or her past. As a child I saw her maybe 2 or 3 times. Once when we visited my grandmother in New York, as a 5-year-old-little-girl, I thought she was a sweet lady and a very nice grandmother (even though the only grandmother I ever knew at the time was my mother's mother in North Carolina).  The photo above is US Army Paratrooper Michael Adamec while home on leave during WWII. The Relatives Came to visit. In my elementary school years Grandmother Susie visited my Grandmother Annie's farm-- 2 maybe 3 times during the summer...
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The Skinny Cows and the Fat Cows

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  The Skinny Cows and the Fat Cows Carol A. Brown  W hen I was about 10 years old, I would spend several weeks each summer on my grandmother’s farm. I remember telling her, “When I grow up, I want to be a farmer, or maybe a farmer’s wife. Grandmother surprised me with a reply, “Well it’s very hard work. I’m not sure you would really like it.” Then she picked up her milk pail and trudged back to the house. Grandmother milked their cow twice each day, 7 days each week, 365 days a year. This was her routine until her sons were able to pitch in with chores. She also worked her garden in season, kept house and cared for her children. Both she and Granddad worked hard at the textile mill in town along with running a farm. Even during the dark days of the Depression era, my grandparents kept their family well fed, safe, and protected on the farm. The family always had a cow, or as they called her, the milk cow. The cows were Jersey breed with rusty red coat, ...
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