They don’t make ’em

I make a lot of baby and child sized quilts and I have a strict rule: every kid gets a blanket. If I have made an earlier baby a blanket, then the latest addition (edition?) gets one too. And if I am making something for a newbie but their predecessor did not receive something then multiples are made. One, this is just simple fairness – I don’t want to be the one to instill jealousy! Two, everyone knows the best forts are made with a lot of blankets so it is good to have these kiddos prepared for future builds. Three, it feels good to acknowledge the amazing families that are being created. And finally, smaller quilts are easier for my attention span and my sewing set up.

This blanket is for friends of ours in Oregon who love music. The father is a professional grade guitarist on the side when they are not saving lives as ER nurses and being straight up awesome people. Way back when we were also Oregonians, a typical weekend night involved jam sessions with guitars, banjos, mandolins and an upright bass while the non-musicians (I was always the anchor of this cohort) observed/talked/laughed riotously and sometimes tried to knit. The evenings were fueled by friendship, home cooked food, IPAs and whiskey. And I should clarify that what I am referring to as jam sessions were not of the hippie-twirling-hula-hooping variety. No, there was quality music happening here: Townes Van Zandt, Earl Scruggs, Hazel Dickens, Gillian Welch, Old Crow Medicine Show, Foghorn Stringband, David Grisman, Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash. These gatherings would continue well into the wee hours and even I managed to stay up past midnight. These nights are some of my fondest memories from the many years I spent in the Northwest; the perfect recipe of music, friendship and simple fun. And we are so fortunate that we have maintained these relationships despite the distance between us now. So much has changed in all of our lives and yet our friendships remain intact. There is nothing like long-term friendships! When I reminisce about these folks, it is true, that they don’t make ’em like they used to.

I spotted this vintage instrument fabric a couple of years ago at Stitch (the best quilt shop ever!) in Durango, Colorado. Apparently I was not the only one who saw the promise in this fabric because it sold faster than I could buy it. Then lo and behold a curated bundle with it turned up and not only was that a miracle but it was also on sale. When we heard the good news that our pals were having a second child I knew I had the perfect fabric for them cached away.

For this quilt I wanted to highlight the instrument fabric first and work around that as I had to maximize the precious half yard in my possession. Unlike a lot of my quilts where I just wing it and build something organically, it was best for me to make up a sketch/pattern for this one. Once I figured out the dimensions for the primary print, I laid out different colors in various sizes to come up with what became the quilt top. As you can see in this hand drawn pattern, I have an important note to myself to not forget to calculate in those dang quarter inch seams. Never would I have predicted that quarter inches would be such a part (and source of agony) in my life. I’m not a surgeon for goodness sake!

Originally the musical accompaniment to this quilt was going to be the artists covered by our little band of pals. However, I am really enjoying the process of working to one artist so for this project I chose Andrew Duhon. Andrew is a phenomenal singer/songwriter/guitarist out of New Orleans that our household really admires. The first time that we heard him, we were sitting on our couch listening to the Sunday acoustic blues show hosted by Your Cousin Dmitri on WWOZ when the song “They don’t make ’em” came on. Afterward we looked at each other with tears in our eyes wondering who in the world was that? We were intrigued and immediately bought the “False River” album and two weeks later purchased “The Moorings” and “Songs I Wrote Before I Knew You”. Andrew is a master lyricist, every single song is chock full of brilliant and astute observations. I only wish I could craft a line like “Well we parted on a Sunday much too gloomy for its name”. His voice is soulful and his guitar style powerful. There is even a Whitley-esque song “Man on the corner” that is excellent. Oh and he makes actual music videos too! Not YouTube videos, I’m talking old-school stylized miniature movie music videos. Gotta love that.

“They don’t make ’em” has become one of our favorite songs. EVERY single line is incredible and the sentiment of this song is something my husband and I bonded over back when we only called one another friends. It is so sad how our society has placed so much value in disposable items over craftsmanship. And how we can’t fix a damn thing anymore! Why try to learn how to sew a patch when you can make a few clicks on the phone device and something brand spanking new is delivered to your door? And maybe this new thing will only last a little while, but no worries because you can just get another new little thing again by clicking some buttons. Sigh. And this song also memorializes those remarkable people we have in our lives that have solid values and just know how to live. It is truly one of the best.

I often get asked how long it takes me to make something like a quilt and I never have an answer. I learned very early on in my creative undertakings not to calculate the time it takes to make something because it doesn’t make sense in our current economic worldview of time equals money. I am astonished when I go into the dreaded W big box store and see that they sell faux-homemade quilts for less than what I pay for batting. But really how long do these pieces last and do they mean anything to anyone other than just a bed cover? Do they provide comfort, beg anyone to hunker down underneath? Elicit precious warm fuzzy feelings? It is doubtful these “quilts” have any soul. The truth is that anything handmade will not be perfect. The furniture my husband makes us has knots and gauges and those are the first things I notice, not because they are flaws but because they make the piece unique. A knot in furniture is a reminder that this table came from a living thing. I make my quilts with integrity and hard work but they are never, ever perfect. And I am absolutely okay with that. I am not a machine and I would rather be able to say I spent X hours making something for someone than doing a lot of other activities. I value my time but I genuinely enjoy the process of creation. And I only want objects that have soul, that make me happy when I see them.

When the pandemic started, we started to tune in to Andrew’s online shows. I was so impressed with how he acknowledged the seriousness of the situation but was able to surmount the crisis to write a bounty of new songs and create a new way to perform. I really struggled the first few weeks with malaise and I really admired Andrew’s tenacity. One day I gave myself a reality check/lecture: here is an artist who has just cancelled dozens of gigs for himself and his band mates and can still be creative so buck up Jennifer and just get on the dang sewing machine already. It really helped to push through those blah feelings and move on, start making again.

Okay, back to the quilt! I am the first to admit that I am not the best quilter but I am always learning. (Just in case there are any non-quilters reading this, um like my parents, the noun “quilt” is a synonym of blanket, “piecing” refers to sewing all of the pieces together to make the top/pattern and “quilting” as a verb means to stitch all three layers together.) And for pieces this size, I do struggle with using a normal sized sewing machine to quilt but when it is complete, I am always so glad that I can take credit for every single stitch. It might take a glass of wine or mug of tension tamer tea to take the edge off when I start quilting but eventually I settle in to the task. For this quilt, I started off using the old painter’s tape trick to track my lines but when I bunched up the quilt to sew in the middle, the tape strips got all sorts of bungled. Doh! I battled this technique for a bit then decided it best to use a ruler and draw lines with one of those magic pens, you know the ones that magically erase with heat. Having lines to follow helped me make passably straight lines on the top.

This project makes me happy as does Mr. Duhon’s albums and lyrics. I took a couple of jaunts down memory lane and I created something that will bring comfort (and hopefully instigate some long naps) to a little baby girl. You know what they say, if you can’t meet ’em, then make ’em something.

Albums listened to: Andrew Duhon “The Moorings”, “False River” and “Songs I wrote before I knew you”.