A Not-So-Special Present

Yesterday, I wrote about a beautiful vintage quilt that I had found on eBay, which I had bought and sent to my cousin for her birthday. I said that I knew she’d appreciate its uniqueness. I bragged about my ability to spot handmade objects and appreciate the fine workmanship and skills that went into creating them.

Well, it turns out that the quilt isn’t quite one-of-a-kind after all. First, I got a message from a friend that she has the same quilt and she loves it. What?

Then, I went back to eBay and discovered that the same quilt is on sale again by the same seller. It’s a little bigger than the one I bought, but that is the only difference. The seller even used the exact same wording and photographs to describe this quilt as she did for the one I purchased. And, she is still tugging on heartstrings by saying that she is selling off her quilts to buy hay for her beautiful Arabian horses.

I felt like one of her horses had kicked me in the gut. I emailed her about my cousin’s quilt and she said that she “suspected” that the quilt was machine-made, and, regarding the almost-identical quilt that she is currently auctioning, she just happened to find it at a “trade days” in Canton, Texas. What a lucky coincidence! Hmmmm.

I went back and read her original description of the quilt I had bought. My imagination must have supplied the words, “unique,” “handmade,” and “hand-quilted,” because they didn’t appear in the text of her ad. Only “vintage” appeared, and in eBay vernacular, that means “used,” which is not special at all.

In my defense, I had typed in “vintage handmade quilts” in the eBay search bar, so I expected to only see quilts that matched my key words. I had also looked at hundreds of quilts before choosing this one, so my brain was probably patchwork at the time I placed my quilt order.

But the worst part of this is that I was fooled … by myself, no less. I had let myself believe that I could spot quality workmanship. I had given credit, in my head, to some anonymous woman who had labored for years on this quilt, working on it through good times and bad, through laughter and tears. I had imbued this quilt with a history that it never had. The only truth about this quilt was that it was laundered by the seller and hung in the east Texas sunshine to dry.

Please let that, at least, be true.

Photo credit: Melissa M. Stearn 2/18/2018

A Very Special Present

via Daily Prompt: Present

I am waiting to hear from my cousin. I sent her a birthday present for her significant birthday. The number can’t be named, just like Voldemort in the Harry Potter books.

Anyway, I sent her a vintage, hand-sewn, hand-embroidered quilt, made in the double wedding ring pattern. I know she will appreciate the meticulous handiwork that went into making it.

I bought the quilt on eBay. It was sold by a woman who, for some reason, has a hoard of handmade, vintage quilts and is selling them off to buy hay for her Arabian horses. In the descriptions of her quilts, she assures potential buyers that they are in pristine condition, washed by her, and dried in the eastern Texas sunshine. Eastern Texas sunshine must add value, or magic, or something you can’t get elsewhere.

My cousin will love the vintage aspect of the quilt. Our mothers, who are sisters, taught us to recognize and appreciate the quality work and materials, as well as the finely honed skills, that went into making objects before mass production became the norm. For us, discovering one-of-a-kind items gives us a thrill. So, I’m not worried about my cousin. It’s her husband who worries me.

I don’t know if he will allow an old quilt, no matter how beautiful it is, to be put on their bed. He might, rightly, wonder what else is in that quilt besides eastern Texas sunshine. Who knows what could have crawled between the seams as it hung on a clothes line in a field filled with wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze?

Actually, it might not have hung in a field at all. All that was guaranteed was that it was dried in the sun. It could very well have hung on a rusty hook in a dirty, smelly barn that is missing its roof.

I hope their dog enjoys her new quilt.

 

A Deadly Candleholder

When I was growing up, my parents had a terrifying candleholder made out of cement. There were seven gnarled, gargoyley faces on it, each one representing a deadly (or cardinal) sin. The horrifying faces didn’t seem to personify anything in particular except evil, which, looking back, was probably the point.

Back then I couldn’t name the seven deadly sins (pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth) and didn’t think about them except when I had to dust that awful thing.

In our house of seven children, our parents stressed the gluttony and sloth sins, probably because they served their purposes when they were telling us to stop eating everything in sight, or to get off the couch and go outside and do something. I think I heard pride, greed, and envy mentioned a time or two, as well. Lust and wrath didn’t come up, as far I remember, probably because of how long it would take to explain those sins, which would delay getting us out of the house.

I was thinking about that candleholder today because I chose to sleep in late instead of getting up and renting a car. Our family car was in an accident on Tuesday, and the rental car place that our insurance company told us to use closes at noon on Saturday and isn’t open at all on Sunday. Getting up early wasn’t something I was willing to consider, it being a Saturday. Now I won’t have a car until Monday at the earliest. My son has a car I can use when he’s home, but, naturally, when I’ll need a car tomorrow to get to church, he’ll be at work.

The family car will be out of the auto body shop in about two weeks, so I’m going to have to rent a car at some point, preferably before my husband returns from the trip he’s on. He will not be able to comprehend why I didn’t rent a car right after the accident. But, that’s him. He does things when they need to be done. I take a nap.

Anyway, when I got up and realized it was 12:30 p.m. and I wasn’t going to have a car all weekend, I thought of that cement monstrosity. By sleeping in, I had probably committed several deadly sins. The sloth face was the most prominent in my mind. Not that I actually know which face was the sloth face.

I called my mother to ask her how she and my father could tell which face went with which sin. She said that the candleholder probably didn’t depict the seven deadly sins. She added that my father and she most likely told us that to scare us.

Now that nothing is as it seems, I’m fine with not having a car until Monday. If anyone asks why I wasn’t at Mass, I’ll blame my absence on lust or wrath. That should stop the questions.

I think this was it. In its online description (link attached to photo), it is called the Seven Deadly Sins (are you still messing with me, Mom?) and it’s made of chalkware (which, as a child, looked like cement to me). It’s called a pipe rack. In other online postings, however, it’s listed as a candleholder and/or pipe rack.