Grandma's Hawaiian Quilt

          Near the end of August, I went to the Pacific West Quilt Show in Tacoma with my friends Carol and Margie. The quilts in the show were stunning. We couldn’t believe the level of artistry and the quilts that didn’t get ribbons. As we strolled along admiring hundreds of quilts, we went from being amazed, to inspired, to humbled, and then discouraged about our quilting skills. 

         After the show, I leafed through the show pamphlet and saw that there were quilt appraisers there. I decided to go back the next day to have a quilt appraised.

         My grandmother made the red and white Hawaiian quilt in the 1930s or 40s for my Aunty Lorna her youngest child. A few years ago, Aunty Lorna passed it on to me.

         I parked a few blocks away from the Tacoma Convention Center and walked in carrying the precious quilt folded up in a pillow case. When I got to the ticket desk, the lady asked me if I had an appointment. I didn’t. I’d pictured a line of people holding quilts and waiting like on “Antique Roadshow.” An appointment made a lot more sense.

 She walked me back anyway, and asked the appraiser if she could fit me in. Luckily, she had an open time slot right then.              

There were two appraisers. One was supposed to go on her lunch break, but when she heard that I had a Hawaiian quilt, she said she’d wait because she rarely got to see a Hawaiian quilt.

          When I spread the red and white beauty out on the table, their faces lit up. They couldn’t resist gently touching it.

          The appraiser asked me lots of questions, many that I couldn’t answer.  I couldn’t tell her the name of the pattern, but I could tell her that my grandmother created it herself, and that my grandmother was Hawaiian. I didn’t know what year the quilt was made, but estimated that it was in the 1930s or early 40s.

I didn’t mention this to the appraiser, but I also don’t know how my grandmother did it. She hand stitched a full/queen sized quilt for each of her five children. She passed away in 1995, so I couldn’t ask Grandma for the answers to all these questions.

         While I was talking to the appraiser, quilters were drawn from all over the show and even from the outer concourse toward the quilt. At least twenty women came over to admire it. My grandmother would have been very pleased—bashful about the attention, but pleased.

         My father’s mother was a quiet lady. When I get shy, I know who that came from. She loved to quilt, and I obviously got some of that from her too. I also think that some of my love of writing came from her. While I moved all over the world as an Army brat, Grandma Keolanui was my pen pal.  I was always so happy to spot an envelope for me with her handwriting on it.

         The appraisal wrapped up. She had taken pictures of the quilt, and written down the information I gave her. She would mail the official appraisal to me after she did some research.

Next door to the appraiser, was a woman who specializes in quilt restoration.  She advised me not to replace the binding on the quilt. She also approved of my storing it in a pillow case, and said that it would be all right for me to add a sleeve to the back, so that I could hang the quilt up for display in my house occasionally. I will also add a label to the back of the quilt with my grandmother’s name, and an estimated date of when it was made, once I figure out what the name of the quilt is.

         I walked back to my car hugging that quilt a little tighter, and trying to look nonchalant, as if I wasn’t carrying something so special.

         At home, I emailed Aunty Lorna on Facebook to ask her if she knew the name of the quilt. My guess was red ginger. She said that she thought grandma told her it was “The Queen’s Comb,” but she could never see the comb. I spread the quilt out on my bed. I couldn’t see the comb either.

         Then Aunty Lorna posted a picture of her older sister, Lani with her daughters and Grandma holding up a red and white Hawaiian quilt named “The Queen’s Comb.” I did a double take. The quilt they were holding wasn’t the quilt I had.

 It was time for some detective work.  Aunty Lorna also had also given me Grandma’s patterns when she gave me the quilt. I got the box out. Right there on top, was a letter from Aunty Lorna passing on a letter that Grandma had written to her about her quilting days. I got that same happy feeling when I saw Grandma’s familiar handwriting.

I unfolded the letter dated Nov. 6, 1983. Grandma gave detailed illustrated descriptions of how grandpa built a frame of two 2 x 4’s on sawhorses for her quilting. She also included instructions, and drawings about how to roll the quilt up as it was quilted.

She gave me clues to another mystery. Years before Aunty Lorna gave me the red and white quilt, she gave me a partially complete quilt top. I finished appliquéing lavender onto a white background. In the letter, Grandma says, “the Lavender and white is the Orchid? . . . Maybe it’s not the Orchid but a Kauai pattern.” Kauai is the Orchid island. I’ll compare it to her patterns.

She then explained how to match it to the pattern, “So, please look at one corner of the quilt (which is the pattern).”

As if that wasn’t enough valuable information, she identified the red and white quilt top that she gave to my sister to complete. I had forgotten all about that one. I need to call her and see how far she’s gotten.   

But the best part was that Grandma also solved the mystery of the quilt I took to the appraiser, “The completed red and white one is the Leilehua.”

It touched my heart to hear from Grandma again. She answered all my questions and shared her quilting world with me. Mahalo (thank you) Grandma! 

And mahalo to you too Aunty Lorna for keeping me connected to grandma. Like you said, "I really like it when the ESPn is working!"

Laura Keolanui Stark is carefully sorting out grandma’s patterns. She can be reached at lkstark@gmail.com.        

Hemingway Summer

This summer was our Hemingway summer even though technically it started in the winter.

Johnny called me one day when I was in Hawaii with my mom after her heart surgery. While my dad drove us home from a doctor’s appointment, Johnny told me that he was reading The Sun Also Rises and he had questions.

“They’re out drinking and they keep saying they’re ‘tight.’ What does that mean?”

“Well, it means they’re drunk, not falling down drunk, but buzzed.”

My parents listened to my half of the conversation with some curiosity.

“What’s an ex-patriot? Why were they in Paris? Why were they called the Lost Generation? Why were they disillusioned?”

I explained as best as I could off the cuff, and told him I hadn’t read Hemingway since I was in college. Nothing like a pop quiz decades later. I told him I was sure his professor could give him better answers than I could.

Then he told me that he wasn’t reading it for a course. He called me so that I could be his teacher. No pressure there! He also said that he’d convinced his roommate to read it too, and they were having some good discussions about it.

I promised him I’d read it when I got home, and then we could talk some more.

       Back home in Washington, I pulled The Sun Also Rises off a dusty shelf and started reading. It was slow going, especially compared to the fast-paced, action packed plots of books and movies now. The slow pace made me wonder if it would get published if Hemingway tried to get it published now. Once I settled in, it got better. It was as I remembered it, lots of drinking and bullfights.

John decided to read it too. When the sun also rose over our back yard, he’d be out on the deck reading. He agreed that it was really slow.

Ernest Hemingway

When I asked Johnny why he liked the book so much, he said that he really liked how simple things were back then. People weren’t in constant communication with texting, cell phones, and the internet. His favorite part of the book was when Jake and Bill went on a fishing trip in Spain. At one point, they decided to take a nap on the grass, out in the open. Johnny was amazed that they could be that relaxed.

He also said that people often discredit Hemingway saying that his writing style was overly simplistic. Johnny thinks that is a strength. Hemingway chose each word carefully and made each one count to describe scenes vividly.

In mid-summer, I discovered a movie called Midnight in Paris playing at an independent movie theater in Tacoma. I convinced Sarah, and eventually Johnny and John to go and see it with me.

Owen Wilson plays a writer who is visiting Paris. Wandering the streets of Paris one night, he is transported back in time to the 1920s and gets to hang out with Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein, and other artists from the lost generation.

Sarah didn’t read Hemingway this summer, but she’s spent two summers writing a novel set in the past, so she could relate to Gil Pender (played by Owen Wilson). She also got a kick out of Pablo Picasso and Salvadore Dali, since she’d learned about them in an Art History class.

We kept shooting looks at each other over our popcorn whenever actor Corey Stoll delivered a classic Hemingway line. Directed by Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris captured how it must have been back then. It fit in perfectly with our Hemingway summer.

Laura Keolanui Stark probably has her nose stuck in a book. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.