A Face to a Name

Almost a year ago I posted about some quilts my great-grandmother Augusta Koch made for two of her grandsons (my father and my uncle). At that time I did not have a picture of her. Then on Ash Wednesday, a mysterious box appeared on my doorstep at about 5pm. Inside was a note from my second cousin Dave (who can be seen in the last photo in the post about the quilts) and a beautiful framed photograph of Augusta around the turn of the century when she was probably in her late teens.

She was also Dave's grandmother, and after a conversation with Dave at my cousin Andy's wedding, he promised to send me a picture of her. I had forgotten (and so, apparently, had he). So to open up that box yesterday was a real treat. When I saw the picture I immediately thought, "She looks like Nick and Kennedy." (Nick is one of my first cousins. He has the pink rose on his lapel in the last photo. Kennedy is his eldest daughter.) Funny how features keep showing up, generations later.

What's so wonderful about this photo is that it is probably from the same era as two more heirlooms I have of Augusta's (or "Gusty" as she was affectionately called). One is this locket, engraved with "GD" on the back.

The second is a beautiful (but broken) pocket watch (made by Elgin), also engraved.

The casing (made by Fahys) has lovely flowers and birds, but the really special engraving is inside the back: "From Pa to Gusty Nov 11th '05"

In November 1905, Augusta was 19 years old. She didn't marry until 1913 when she was 27 years old, so this was not a wedding gift. The 1910 census has her living at home with her parents and four siblings in Detroit. Her father Albert (66) was a carpenter, her older brother Herman (26) was a cabinet maker, and the census lists Augusta's (23) occupation as a cigar maker (which I understand she disliked immensely). Younger brother Louis (20) was a machinist hand in a machine shop, younger sister Elsie (18) was a "credit girl," and the youngest sister Eloise (14) and mother Christine (53) were not employed.

Having every able bodied child working shows me that the Durrow's were likely not wealthy. But the photo, the watch, and the fact that mother and 14-year-old daughter were not working tell me that neither were they poor. They were, however, of hardworking German stock. Albert was born in Germany in 1844 and emigrated to the US in 1872. Christine was born in Canada and arrived in Detroit in 1861 at age 5. Her parents emigrated to Canada from Germany. So Augusta was a first generation American and her immigrant parents obviously worked hard to establish a respectable, industrious, self-sufficient family.

That work ethic has been passed down through the generations. One of the most important lessons I think my father has taught my sister and I is that we are responsible for our own living and we should not expect others to hand us anything on a silver platter. This work ethic hasn't made anyone in our family fabulously wealthy, but it has made us good citizens who take care of our families, contribute to society, and don't milk the system. In an age when nearly 50% of Americans don't pay any income tax at all, and yet use billions of dollars of tax revenue through various government services, I think this legacy of personal responsibility is ever rarer and ever more precious to me.

Between her birth and the 1910 census, the time at which the picture was taken and the watch was given,  I have no information on Augusta. In cousin Dave's note to me about the picture he mentions that his mother, my great aunt Marion (Augusta's eldest daughter), was wondering when I was going to come pick her brain about family history. So I will have to plan a trip to Holland, Michigan, soon to find out what I can about the watch, the locket, and the rest of Augusta's life.

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Reading Children's Verse

I do love children's books. Even before my husband and I considered creating a smaller version of ourselves we had a large and growing collection of children's books, including those from our own childhood and new ones we had purchased simply for the love of the artwork or stories. And lately I've been looking for vintage and antique books of children's stories and especially children's verse to add to our collection of picture books and chapter books.

As a child I enjoyed reading the verses and stories in two of my parents' college texts. Both of my parents majored in education in college, but when they graduated teaching jobs were scarce and they never did teach. But they both kept their anthologies of children's verse. I'm so glad they did. I spent many, many hours flipping through nursery rhymes, morality tales, and nonsense verse of many lands.

One of the most wonderful things about old books of children's verse are the charming illustrations. Many are so very enchanting that they stick with a child far more tenaciously than the verse or story. One illustrator whose pictures I remember from my father's treasury of children's verse happens to be Kate Greenaway whose work was extremely popular in the 1880s and 1890s.

I ran into a book of hers at an antique shop this winter, not knowing that I knew and enjoyed some of her other work as a young girl. The verse often leaves something to be desired but the illustrations make you feel the soft spring breeze and hear the rustling of dresses and wind through the trees. It wasn't until I was flipping through my father's old textbook that I realized many of her poems and pictures were part of my childhood.

Another recent find (the same day, in fact, as the Greenaway book) was a thin volume by Walter de la Mare called A Child's Day.

The whole book is one long poem about a little girl named Elizabeth Ann who does things any child would do: gets up, eats breakfast, plays outside, gets into mischief, takes a bath, etc. Not only are the illustrations utterly lovely . . .

. . . the poetry is actually really good despite being made up of rhyming couplets (which can sort of feel plodding after a while). Every other page contains a few lines of some of the most quotable poetry I've read in a while. De la Mare truly captures the feeling of wonder and possibility and simplicity that we feel as children and long to recapture in our adult existence.

But not all the children's stories of the past are charming and sweet. Many of them are bizarre, confusing, or downright frightening. I haven't read the story that goes with this next illustration, but the caption is hilarious.

This may be just a silly story, but other stories could keep you up at night as a little girl or little boy. Even the ones we've sanitized and made less scary become more sinister with the right illustrator. The story of Red Riding Hood is actually pretty gruesome (as were many of the tales we make cutesy movies of today). To people in earlier times, the woods and the creatures in it (wolves) were not simply scary because they were shadowy and dangerous, they were physical representations of evil. This illustration does not capture that:

This one certainly does.

*shudder*

Today, of course, we don't believe wolves or snakes or creepy crawly things are inherently evil (or at least I don't) and we don't teach our children that demonic forces are at work in the woods. But the story of Little Red Riding Hood is still seriously scary. Modern retellings might even omit the part about the wolf eating the grandmother.

We ended up with a modern Weeble Wobble version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears that came with a toy I got for my son at a garage sale. In this version, the bowls are filled with mac and cheese (c'mon, who eats porridge these days?) and Goldilocks doesn't break any chairs and when the bears come home they aren't angry at all. Instead they invite someone who invaded their home and stole from them to come have more mac and cheese with them, smiles all around. Needless to say, we didn't read this sanitized version to our son and the book has "disappeared" somewhere (like the trash can).

Some of these scary fairy tales we will eventually tell our son. They generally teach good lessons (don't steal, respect others, don't take candy from a creepy old crone in the woods, etc.) and they are a foundation of learning to love literature. But for now we'll skip any scary stories and focus on the fun stuff. Maybe tonight, in addition to his books about cars and trucks, I'll read a little bit of verse from the books I cherished as a small child.

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The Boys' Quilts

Augusta Christine Durow was born in Fairhaven, Michigan, on May 26, 1886, the fourth of five children. Her father Albert was born in Germany and her mother Katherine was born in Canada, making Augusta (or Gusty, as she was nicknamed) a first generation American. Augusta married Frederick Koch and they had two daughters: Marion in 1917, and Lorraine (my paternal grandmother) in 1920. My deepest apologies, but I do not have a photo of Augusta, though I hope to possibly get one from Great Aunt Marion.

In the late 1940s, Augusta made twin bed-sized quilts for Lorraine's two boys: my father, Dale, and his older brother, Gary. She would have been in her late 60s at the time. Dad thought maybe the quilts were made in the early 1950s, but my grandmother's records indicate that Augusta died January 14, 1951, at age 64. So if she did make these in later than the 1940s, it would have to have been 1950, when Gary and Dale were just ages 3 and 4. I discovered these quilts after my grandmother died a couple years ago. Dad and Uncle Gary recognized them immediately and said I could have them.


Gary's Quilt



Dad's Quilt

Unfortunately, neither of them can be used on a bed today. They were definitely well-loved, well-used, and often-washed. The bindings and backings are worn through in spots and Gary's quilt especially has major damage to the top, with some pieces completely blown out.

Many people would have thrown these away or used them to move furniture or stuck them in a car trunk in case of an emergency. But Grandma had them tucked away in white pillowcases for safekeeping. I wonder if she ever got them out to look at them and remember the times when her sons were young and her husband was still alive. Or maybe she didn't look at them because it would bring to mind the sad fact that her husband had been gone for more than 30 years. Regardless, she kept them well and because of that, I can know my great-grandmother just a little better.

When I was preparing to do this post, I asked my dad to send me some photos of him and Gary at about the time they would have used these quilts. He did me one better, sending me photos of them actually sleeping under the quilts.

Gary asleep under his quilt. This photo and the one below it are
very early Polaroids taken sometime between 1959 and 1961.

Dad sleeping under his quilt. Note that he had the backing side up,
but you can still identify it because of the pattern.

This is a good reminder that if you have heirlooms in the house that you're unsure about, that you don't know the history of, start looking through old family photos to see if you can spot them. That might help you learn a bit more about who used them and when.

Uncle Gary and Dad in 1956. Dad still wears plaid,
button-down shirts just like this one today.

I occasionally feel a bit wistful about boys' clothes and bedding of the past. In our day of loudly-colored t-shirts and bedding covered with licensed characters from movies, it's hard to come up with sewing ideas that wouldn't make our sons or nephews cringe. I have made my own son a quilt (his baby quilt, which is the first quilt pictured in this old post) and I even made my nephew a rather unconventional bed quilt, but I wonder how much sweetness I could get away with on a bed-sized quilt for Calvin. I know he would enjoy a Thomas the Tank Engine-themed room (almost as much as his father would) or a Lightning McQueen toddler bed (almost as much as his father would), but I would far prefer to make him a handsome, not-too-cute but still little-boyish quilt (with no Disney/Pixer/Hit Entertainment characters on it) and decorate his walls with his own finger paintings.

And in fact the time where he won't really care and he'll like anything I give him is running out as he gets older. Will I miss my chance to make him a quilt that will someday be an heirloom for his own children and grandchildren? Let's face it, no one is handing down a cheaply-made Buzz Lightyear comforter to their progeny. The concept of heirlooms is in danger of dying out as we continue to consume cheap, mass-produced schlock in place of items carefully crafted with thought and love.

End rant.

Anyway, before wrapping this up, I want to leave you with my favorite picture of my dad and Uncle Gary, at least from this decade. Here the boys are with their cousins, Jim and Dave, the other grandchildren of Augusta Koch (but more importantly, the other members of the illustrious Hotshot Band). Not sure if she managed to make Jim and Dave quilts as well, but I will have to check that out.


That's Gary on the clarinet, Dale on the trumpet, Jim on the piano, and Dave on the drums. Just look
how intense and into it they are. Glenn Miller's band couldn't do any better, I suspect.

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Grandma Wiggins' Cross-Stitched Quilt

My last heirloom post involved my great-grandmother Elizabeth Smith. Forty to fifty years after she finished her yo-yo coverlet, her daughter-in-law Helen Wiggins (married to two of Elizabeth's sons, Norval and Linny—not at the same time) was working hard on a very different quilt. In the 1970s, my grandmother Helen was cross-stitching this masterpiece.

You can tell from the colors that this kit was a product of the 1970s, can't you? According to my mother it took her mom years to finish the cross-stitching but she's pretty sure it was finished by the time Linny died in 1986.

After Lin died, Helen moved from Detroit to Bay City to be closer to my parents. She looked for a few years before she found someone to hand quilt the piece.

I don't know the identity of the quilter or how much Grandma paid, but I think she got her money's worth no matter what because it really is very fine quilting. It's hard for me to imagine putting all that work into hand quilting and then handing it back to its owner, no matter what I got paid.

This quilt is sized for a double bed. If we had a guest room, this would definitely be on rotation. But I don't envision a time when we'll have a double bed in the house, so for now we generally use this on the couch when Mom comes to visit overnight or on the futon downstairs on the rare occasions we have other overnight guests.

In fact, it's the only heirloom quilt I actually use because it is the only one that isn't pretty seriously damaged, probably because it is a more recent creation and has certainly never been washed. To my knowledge, Grandma never used it. I never saw it until after she died in the late 1990s. It's a shame that she worked so hard on it and paid to get it quilted and then put it in storage. If you're a quilter or a knitter or a crocheter, use your creations. It makes them happy to be used.


Helen and Linny



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Great-Grandmother Elizabeth's Yo-Yo Coverlet

Elizabeth Smith was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1884, the third of eight children. Her father Samuel was born in Ontario and had been left an orphan at age two and was raised by a woman named Mrs. Wilson while his sister was shipped out west to another family and was lost track of in later years. Samuel eventually became a metal pattern maker (one of the first Henry Ford had) and moved around as his job demanded. Thus his children were born in various Midwestern cities, including Bay City, Michigan (where I grew up); Cleveland, Ohio; and Windsor, Ontario.

Elizabeth married Robert Andrew Wiggins in 1906 and among their children was Norval Wiggins, my mother's father, and Robert Linwood (Linny), my mother's uncle and, after his brother Norval's death, my mother's stepfather.


Elizabeth with her daughter Gertrude, son Linny (in the grass), and husband Bob

 I don't know much about Elizabeth. I have two heirlooms that belonged to her, once of which is this pretty spectacular queen-sized yo-yo coverlet.

My estimate puts this coverlet being constructed of probably in excess of 3,000 yo-yos. The patterned yo-yos were made from fabric scraps from the house dresses Elizabeth had made herself in the 1920s and 1930s (judging by the fabrics).


Elizabeth (far right) with a sister and perhaps a friend or relative (the tall one) in the 1920s

Elizabeth died in Detroit 1939 at age 55, just four years after her arrival in the US (she lived most of her life in Windsor, Ontario). I imagine that this quilt was completed sometime in the mid to late 1930s.

My mother passed this quilt on to me when I moved into our house, thinking that I might be able to display it and in any case that I would like to be its caretaker since I actually quilt. Unfortunately, 1930s colors don't match my color scheme and I'm pretty sure most men think yo-yo coverlets are hideous and too "country" looking, so I don't think Zach would be super thrilled to have it out (and I'm sure my Dad didn't care for it either). Still, I store it and I did spend a fairly significant bit of time repairing it once it was in my possession. Many of the yo-yos had detached from their neighbors. I searched for offenders and tacked them back together. Incredibly, there is only one yo-yo that is completely damaged.

Really, I'm not sure how practical yo-yo coverlets are. They aren't really used for warmth because they have no batting and are filled with holes. And they tend to be delicate because they are all hand-sewn. But they are impressive.

I don't know if Elizabeth produced any other quilts or blankets in her lifetime, but my understanding is that she was an excellent seamstress. Judging by the number of fabrics used in this coverlet, and if they truly did come from her leftovers after sewing house dresses, I have some catching up to do!

Elizabeth (second from right) with all of her living sisters in the 1930s. I want their hats.

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A Little Bit of Sparkle

It seems like everything sparkles during December. Snow, Christmas lights, wrapping paper, cards that shed glitter all over your house for weeks. Normally around here it sparkles in January as well because we get more snow this month generally than in December. But this morning, the day after my 31st birthday, I looked out the window and saw only faint remnants of snow at the end of the driveway where I had shoveled it weeks ago. Everything is brown and the sky is flat gray.

So, to add a little sparkle back into the day, I bring you the first heirloom of 2011.

Please excuse the close-up of my ear and focus on the earring. Grandma Foote had a large collection of jewelry when she died, much of it costume jewelry. I'm not sure if these circa 1950s-1960s clip-on earrings are of the costume variety (my guess is that they are) and I can't find a maker's mark on them anywhere (just the word sterling on the silver). But I love them for a variety of reasons.

First, while they are clip-ons, Grandma never having had her ears pierced, they are actually more of "screw-ons" because they have a sort of vise-like screw on the back. You put it over your ear lobe and screw it on until it is snug. Second, I love the natural motif—stem, leaves, and berries. Third, they're a nice size and weight (too big of earring make my ears itchy, too small have no impact).

Most of all, of course, I like them because they were hers. I wore them on Christmas Eve and to this party with an early 1960s-style dress and I felt pretty fancy. On Christmas Eve I also wore this simple brooch which was hers:

This is probably not very old and I can see it being from the 1990s (I may have even bought this one for her, who knows?) so it's not really an heirloom yet in my mind. But once I pass it down to a niece and she passes it down to a daughter, it will become one. Never forget that the stuff you buy today may one day be special to a descendent you've never met. So buy things that are nice and will last. They may not be worth a lot of money since almost everything today is mass-produced, but they may be worth quite a bit in sentimentality.

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Heirlooms

My beautiful mother in the late 1960s. This photo was
taken by my father, who was the first person from whom
I learned anything about photography. Mom and
Dad have already passed on many family heirlooms
to me and they help me learn the stories behind them.



I've posted a number of times over the past couple years (see my old blog for pre-Autumn 2010) about family heirlooms, those fancy things around my house that have been passed down to me from generations past. In 2011 I plan to post a bit more on items you haven't yet seen (largely because many are in storage). This will give me a chance to see them again, inspect them for damage, and catalog information about them so that when I pass them on someday to my son, my nieces (because, let's face it, some of this stuff will probably be too girly for the boy), and any grandchildren or grandnieces and grandnephews they may produce, I won't have forgotten where the world they came from.

Little is more irksome to me than to have a photo with unidentified people in it or an object with a murky history. It pains me when stories are lost to time and neglect. So I'm going to do my part to try to tell the stories of the important objects in my family.

In 2011 you can expect to see somehwat regular posts  about antique and vintage quilts, tableware, jewelry, furniture, books, photos, and other objects. A lot of these things don't fit my decorating scheme so they are boxed up or in the backs of cupboards. But some of them live with us, and some are used daily.

As you read these posts, I encourage you to think about your own family heirlooms and to tell us about them in the comments section. Perhaps you'll be inspired to post about some of them on your own blog. But consider making an effort in 2011 to remember the stories of those objects that are important to you simply because they came from someone you love. And don't forget to pass those stories on to the next generation. If you don't tell them, no one will.

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