Trip to Cape Cod and Martha's Vineyard

     John had a scientific meeting in Cape Cod, Massachusetts this week and Johnny and his girlfriend were willing to house/pet sit, so I boarded the plane along with John and headed out east for Boston. We landed in a thunder storm and picked up our rental car to get in line for rush hour traffic out of Bean Town. 

     

It felt a little odd to see a big green sign for I-90 westbound. Boston is where I-90 begins. It ends 3,020 miles later in Seattle, Washington. We also drove through the Central Artery tunnel, also known as The Big Dig, the most expensive highway project in the United States, which ended up costing 14.6 billion dollars.

     It was a long drive out to Cape Cod, two and a half hours, so we were relieved when we pulled into our motor inn, The Sands of Time. The building out front looks retro, like it was built in the 1960s?—two stories with little balconies or patios for each unit and a flat roof.

     Our room with a four-poster bed and a view of the water is in the historic house in the back. It was built in 1879 in the classic Cape Cod style with shingled sides and it looms over the front building.

    John left for his meeting at 7:30 in the morning. Since I had no dogs or pets to wake up and feed, I slept in until an astounding 10:30 (which is really 7:30 in Washington)! I knew that I wanted to catch the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard, but had no idea how to go about that. Would I take the car? What was there to do over there?

     I stopped at the front desk for advice. I’m glad I did! The two ladies manning the desk were happy to answer all my questions. First of all, don’t take the car. I’d spend all my time looking for parking. Instead, walk on to the ferry for $17 round trip. They sold me tickets right there! They cautioned me to make sure that I came back on the ferry that left from Oak Bluffs not Vineyard Haven because that ferry  didn’t return to Woods Hole.  

     One of the women gave me the ferry schedule and took the time to fold it to the exact part of the chart I would need. 

     Then she showed me a map of Martha’s Vineyard and pointed out areas of interest.

     I asked if there were places where I could rent a bike. There definitely were. She showed me a scenic bike trail that went along the beach. That's when she made another great suggestion. I could take a Martha's Vineyard transit bus that went all over the island. For $2.50 I could go to two towns. That way I could decide which areas I’d like to explore on foot (or bike).

     She pointed out that the next ferry left at noon. It was 11:15.  I asked her if there was anyplace nearby where I could quickly pick up a sandwich to take with me for lunch. She steered me away from the restaurant that I probably would’ve chosen because they are always busy and take a little longer to prepare an order.

   She suggested Woods Hole Market. It has a deli that will custom make sandwiches to-go. It was a five-minute walk into town, then cross the little drawbridge and it would be about four doors down on the right.

     Everything she told me was accurate. I carried my Bourne Farm sandwich (premium Black Forest Ham, Vermont Cheddar, Sliced Apple, and honey mustard on a ciabatta roll), a bag of Cape Cod potato chips and a bottle of water on board the ferry and enjoyed a leisurely lunch on the half hour ride across the Nantucket Sound.

   When we landed at Oak Bluffs, I looked for the bus to Edgartown. Two other ladies asked me if I knew where to catch the bus and when I answered that I’d never been there before, one of them shouted across three lanes of traffic to a bus driver who pointed and yelled back at us to go to the flag pole.  It was nearby. (I loved hearing that famous Boston accent!)

    The bus hugged the coastline and I got to see where the bike trail was along the beach. We crossed the famous bridge where kids jumped off into the water in the movie “Jaws.” They are still jumping off now.

   It was a beautiful day, but it was also 85 degrees with 88% humidity, so I decided to skip the bike ride. Instead, I walked all over Edgartown’s cobblestoned sidewalks and took in the sights while popping into shops to look at t-shirts and souvenirs, and also to get out of the heat.

     

I had to stop at a jewelry store named Stark. They laughed and said, "No" when I asked if I could get a discount for being named Stark, but the unique charm bracelet I bought there will be a special memento.

   After that I sat under a tree in the quaint historic town and cooled off with a scoop of peppermint ice cream from Mad Martha’s ice cream parlor. 

    There were a lot of tourists sharing the sidewalks with me, but it was relaxed and everyone was enjoying themselves. 

    I wanted to catch the 5:20 ferry back to Woods Hole, and didn’t want to push it timewise. So I took the bus back to Oak Bluffs early enough that I’d have an hour and a half to explore that town. 

     Right near the ferry, I spotted a building with a historic marker saying it houses the oldest carousel in America. Curious, I went inside to check it out. I’ve seen more elaborate carousels, but this one had something I’ve only heard about.

   A very long time ago, I had a boyfriend who repeatedly complained that I “always had to grab for the brass ring.” At the time, I had no idea what that meant. He explained that it meant I was always trying to strive for the highest prize or live life to the fullest.  Then he got exasperated and mad at me for questioning why that was a bad thing.

     Here I was, decades later, watching the Flying Horses carousel spin. Not only was it historic, it had brass rings that riders could try to grab as they rode the horses around! If you got one, you could ride again for free.

   And that is why, even though I qualify for a senior discount in a lot of places, and even though I am broader in the saddle these days, I hoisted myself up onto one of those wooden horses and heck yeah, grabbed a lot of brass rings! It was great! I had as much fun as the kids did, and although I wasn’t quite as vocal about it, I was grinning the whole time.

     

I was still glowing from hooking those brass rings on the ferry ride back “home” to Woods Hole. 

     

John’s meeting also included a dinner for his group, so I started walking to Woods Hole Market for my dinner. When I got to the little drawbridge, the gates were down and the bridge was going up.

I watched and listened to the man in charge chase some tourists off the bridge, chew out a teenager for trying to open the gate early, and tell a driver who had crossed the stop line that he’d be sending him a ticket in the mail. He was irritated! I couldn’t blame him. What's with people? I made double sure that I obeyed the rules.

   When I had picked up my lunch for the ferry at Woods Hole Market earlier, I spotted Lobster Rolls on their menu. That’s what I had in mind for my dinner. I filled out the order form for the Lobster Roll and put it face down in the basket on the deli counter.

   When the cook called my name, I took my sandwich out back to a deck built over the water. Tied up boats and ducks bobbed in the marina while I savored that "wicked good lobsta roll" and the day that I’d spent on Martha’s Vineyard.

Laura Keolanui Stark will always be trying to grab the brass ring. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

Check Out the Library

    Today I did something I haven’t done in years. I went into the Puyallup Pubic library and checked out a book.

       There is no lack of books in my house.  Twenty of those, I’m embarrassed to admit, are stacked up on my nightstand waiting to be read.

       One of them is Seek My Face by John Updike. I picked it up off a clearance shelf for $2 at a used book store. It has a very specific purpose. I read it when I have insomnia. It is a single 275-page conversation between an elderly artist, 78 year old Hope, and the young journalist, Kathryn, who is interviewing her.  Hope recounts her artist’s life in New York spanning the 1940s until today and her three marriages through spoken replies, her inner thoughts, and flashbacks.

         The writing is dense. There are no chapters. I’m usually nodding off within five pages. That’s not intended as an insult. It’s just that this particular novel fits my requirements for what to read to lull me to sleep.

      Reasons for rejecting some of the other books gathering dust on my nightstand are: It’s too action packed or suspenseful--may as well drink a cup of coffee and then try to sleep. It’s too predictable. It’s got an agenda and I want to relax, not rally to a cause. It’s just not something I’m currently interested in, but might be later.

       Since I like Updike’s style, and somehow despite all the English classes I took, never read any of his work in school, I decided I should read one of his earlier novels. After all, he’d won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction more than once.

       I looked for Rabbit, Run online, but then didn’t put it in my cart because I wanted to physically flip through it to see if I wanted to buy it. I didn’t want to buy it on my Kindle because they say that the light emitted by reading on a screen keeps you awake.

       Puyallup, used to have two bookstores: Waldenbooks and Borders, but hasn’t had any bookstore since those two merged. That meant I’d have to drive to Tacoma, Lakewood, or Federal Way, a minimum drive of 10 miles or about a half an hour on Interstate 5 which is under major construction right now.

       Over lunch with my husband John downtown, I debated whether I had time to drive to Lakewood. Afterwards I walked to my car and looked up to see, shining like an oasis, the Puyallup Public Library right across the street! Why not go in and borrow Rabbit, Run there?

Puyallup Public Library in Pioneer Park, Puyallup, WA

       Why wasn’t the Puyallup Public Library, or the South Hill Branch of Pierce County Library on my radar screen of options? I have library cards to both of them. One of the first things I did when we moved to Puyallup, as in every place I’ve ever called home, was to get a library card. There was a time when I borrowed books, music, and movies from those libraries almost weekly.  Both are less than 15 minutes from my house. 

   The Pierce County Library up on South Hill is where I took our kids to story time when they were little. It’s where I drop off our ballots for elections and also where I donate already read books. For years, my gym was next door so I was always popping in after a workout.

South Hill Branch of Pierce County Library

       The downtown Puyallup Public Library had one of the most extensive music collections I’d ever seen. It was housed in a one-story 1960s building. My kids were also very familiar with this library, especially when we moved into the city limits. It was a valuable resource for many school reports before the internet became indispensable.

Puyallup Public Library of the 1960s.

When both libraries decided to honor each others’ library cards, I felt like I’d won the lottery with access to more than a million books!

     In 2002 the mid-century library building downtown was replaced with a beautiful new 39,500 square foot library just steps away from the old site.

We knew one of the architects who designed it with huge windows on the second story to take in the views, a copper roof, and a feeling of grandeur.

       We bought a brick with our family’s name on it to help raise money. It’s embedded in the sidewalk out front near the play area.

       There are art displays surrounding the outside of the building. The kids and I had to laugh one day passing by the sculpture called “Neck Fragment” near the side doors of the library. Someone had carefully placed a lit cigarette between the lips of the bronze sculpture which looked like it was puffing away.

       I was so proud of our library. It’s the centerpiece of Puyallup. On summer weekends the farmer’s market is held in Pioneer Park out front and in the Pavilion where the old library used to be. On Tuesdays and Thursdays during the summer you can bring a lawn chair or blanket and enjoy free concerts there too.

       In the library conference room, I had met authors including Garth Stein who wrote The Art of Racing in the Rain. I admired the quilts that periodically hung from the bridge above the grand entrance and always stopped to see what was featured in the display cabinets in the hallway leading to the parking lot.

       Why did I stop going to the library? Was online book buying technology to blame? Was owning a Kindle? No, I’m old school. I still prefer the heft of a real, paper book in my hands. Was cable/online access to movies the culprit? It was none of the above.

       What I didn’t enjoy about this gorgeous library with a copper lined sweeping staircase and a bridge spanning the open foyer, was walking in and getting hit in the face with the smell of human urine. I didn’t like edging past homeless people sleeping in front of the welcoming fireplace. I didn’t feel safe back in the stacks where the quilting books were or going into the restroom. For that matter, I didn’t feel safe right out front in the lobby where you checked out books.

Ezra Meeker, Puyallup's founder. His wife
Eliza started the first library in Puyallup, prior
 to the city's platting in 1877.

      One day I hurried out the front doors while a mentally ill, or drugged homeless person had a loud, thrashing melt down on the floor. Another time, my daughter and I were chased by a bellowing transient man across the park (the length of a city block), past the ivy arbor and the statue of Puyallup’s founder, Ezra Meeker, as we ran to the car with our books.

      I wondered why the people of Puyallup passed a bond to create such a spectacular castle-like building filled with knowledge, history, and art, only to let it be turned into a homeless shelter. I quit going. I wasn’t the only one. In one year, there was a decline of 2000 visitors to the library.

In the meantime, things declined further. In 2015 one of the librarians was physically assaulted by a transient. People complained to the library and the city council. They demanded solutions. (http://www.thenewstribune.com/news/local/article25914067.html)

       Although that was years ago, I was still a little on edge when I entered the library today. First of all, there was no smell. That was a good sign.

   The tall shelves that used to hold the video section near the children’s area were gone. It opened up the children’s section making it more visible and therefore safer for the kids. A scaled down video section was upstairs.

   I had no problem finding the Updike book in the fiction section upstairs. In fact, I found an edition that has his first three books all in one. Nobody was sitting (or sleeping) in the chairs by the fireplace which was turned off. 

There were fewer magazines in the periodical section. There were also fewer quilting books which had been moved to a more visible area. (At the Pierce County library, so many quilt books had pages torn out, or were stolen that many years ago they started holding those books in the back and you had to request them.)

     On the men’s restroom door was a sign stating that the door had to be left open at all times. Students were quietly studying in the teen section and at computers. A library assistant shelving books was happy to direct me to the audio books. The librarians at the circulation desk were bustling. A security guard walked through the rows of shelved books. I did not see a single homeless person behaving badly.

       When I went back downstairs to check out, I realized I didn’t have my library card. I wouldn’t be able to use one of the self-serve kiosks. I asked the librarian if she could look up my account. She did not have a problem finding it. It was inactive. (No surprise there.) She double checked my address and renewed my card asking if I needed her to re-issue it. I assured her that I hadn’t lost it. I knew exactly where it was.

      When I got home, I pulled my library card out of a desk drawer and slipped it back into my wallet.

I also stuck a magnet on my refrigerator with the library hours on it. I plan on visiting the library, my old friend, again. Now for a cup of tea, and turning to the first page of Rabbit, Run.

Laura Keolanui Stark is looking forward to some summer reading. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.

How Long Does It Take to Make a Quilt?

       When people find out that I’m a quilter, they are always curious about how long it takes me to make a quilt. I hesitate because don’t have a quick, definitive answer.

There are a lot of variables: size, complexity, if there’s a deadline or an open timeline, broken sewing machines, frustration, laziness, you get the picture. 
       Part of it depends on the size of the quilt. I’ve made a wall hanging (about 45” square) in a weekend. If you count a mug rug (about the size of a piece of notebook paper), I can put that together in a under an hour. The most recent quilt that I put the last stitch in, holds the all-time record of the longest time I’ve ever spent making a quilt.

       My new year’s resolution for 2018 was to finish up some of the quilts that I started, but haven’t completed. My plan was to finish one per month. It’s April and I just completed my third quilt.

       This quilt wasn’t even in my stack of UFOs (UnFinished Objects), but in the wee hours of a night of insomnia when my mind was reviewing a million things, I remembered these particular quilt blocks. I thought it would be quick to whip into an actual quilt that would tie up some loose ends as well as help me catch up to my one quilt a month goal.

       Years ago, I hand stitched several Hawaiian quilt blocks that were intended to be pillow covers. They would be great practice before making a bed sized Hawaiian quilt. These blocks were my first attempts at quilting. I enjoyed making them, but thought how many pillows did I really need? Instead, I would combine them into a quilt.

       Here I was, many, many years later and I’d forgotten how many I'd made. I’d also moved several times since I started stitching them and had forgotten where I stored them in this house. After a few days of digging through the logical places where they should be, I found them in an illogical place, under my long arm machine. 
       I had completed five on white backgrounds: Monstera leaf was dark green, 

               Ulu (or breadfruit) was a pale yellow, 

                              Red Ginger was red, 

                              Orchid was purple,

                             and Hibiscus was red. 

I needed a sixth block to make a quilt three blocks across and two blocks down.

       In totally unrelated news, the deadline to file taxes was looming, so March 18^th was the perfect time to ignore the taxes and start a hand quilting project. 
       In my quest to find the blocks, I’d also found my Hawaiian quilting books, so I thumbed through them looking for my next block: Na Lani Pule (Heavens Prayers). I went to the fabric store and chose a solid deep turquoise Kona cotton for this block.

These blocks are "on point."

       Tucked into the back of one of my Hawaiian quilting books was a sketch on graph paper of my original plan—a grid of blocks, three across and four down. I also recalled thinking about setting them on point. I obviously didn't have time to make seven more blocks. It was time for a revised plan.

Hawaiian Quilt Plan A.

       On April 10th the Na Lani Pule block was complete. I admired it, but not for long. I got down to business on our taxes. After I sent them in, it was back to the Hawaiian quilt blocks up on my design wall.

Na Lani Pule

       I shuffled them around. I didn’t like that there were two red blocks. They were overpowering. The yellow ulu block was too pale. What was I thinking when I chose that lemon yellow? There was barely any contrast.

     I kicked out the red hibiscus. I thought about kicking out the yellow ulu, but it was the second block I’d ever made and Hawaiian quilting tradition says that it should be the first block you make to ensure that you make many more quilts.

       Then I measured the blocks. They varied in size from 19-1/2” squares to the brand new turquoise block that was 17-1/2” square. Why hadn’t I followed my "note to self" to enlarge the pattern by 15% before I started procrastination quilting? I kicked out Na Lani Pule too. It would become a pillow cover along with the red hibiscus block.

  
     There would be four blocks in this quilt, stacked, not on point. It would be a wall hanging. It was a little tricky since the blocks were already quilted. I carefully trimmed them each down to a uniform 18-1/2” square. Then I chose a deep blue cotton like the color of the Pacific Ocean between the Hawaiian Islands for the joining strips.

       As I worked, I tried to recall when I started this project. We were living in Hawaii, renting the bottom floor of a house in Manoa. Although both of my grandmothers made Hawaiian quilts, they weren’t making them when I was around. I should have, but didn’t think to ask them for advice.

       Not only did I “inherit” my love of sewing from my grandmothers, I inherited a complete full size Hawaiian quilt and a partially completed Hawaiian quilt top from Grandma Louise Ralston Keolanui. My auntie also gave me all of her mother's Hawaiian quilt patterns that she had designed herself.

Grandma Keolanui, cousin Jane, Auntie Lani and cousin Judy
with the Queen's Comb quilt that Grandma made.

 

Grandma Ellis holding great grandson Johnny Stark.

From my other grandmother, Grandma Harriet Dwight Ellis, I inherited her in-progress Hawaiian quilt blocks and a sizable fabric and yarn stash.

       When my sister passed away, she and her husband gave me a Hawaiian quilt top from Grandma Keolanui that Cynthia had been working on along with her own fabric stash and what she’d gotten from our grandmothers. The huge size of my stash isn’t surprising. It’s genetic!

       When I’m in Hawaii and drive through the intersection of University Avenue and King Street in Moiliili, I still remember the seemingly endless hours that my sister, brother, cousins, and I spent in Kuni’s Dry Goods store with my Mom, Grandmother, and Aunties while they pored over sewing pattern books and then shopped for fabric.

 If we were good, they’d treat us to crack seed [Chinese preserved plums] scooped out of giant glass jars from the tiny store across the parking lot.

       Instead of asking my grandmothers for quilting lessons, or at least for some tips when I started my first quilt, I relied on the instructions in a kit purchased at Liberty House, a department store that was later bought out by Macy’s.

       The deep green fabric with the Monstera Leaf pattern appealed to me back then. It still does. When I flipped that finished Monstera Leaf block over and looked at the stitching, I shook my head and then snickered a little. There are huge knots all over the back. Back then I knotted my thread by wrapping the thread around my index finger and then rolling it off the end and tugging.

Huge beginner's knots

       Now I make a quilter’s knot by wrapping the thread around the tip of my needle and then sliding it down to the end. It’s a much smaller knot which makes it easier to pop through a layer of fabric, to bury the knot in the batting. The stitches on the front of that block look OK, but they are not even in size. On the back they’re much longer than on the front. It was a good thing I matched my thread color to the forest green of the leaf. My uneven beginner quilt stiches don’t show much.

       On the Ulu block, my second Hawaiian quilt block, the knots on the back still look like tiny beach balls, but the stitching is more even. A darker yellow would've been a better color choice, but I was still a beginner. 
       By the time I stitched the orchid block, in 2002 the quality of my quilting was much improved. I had actually been to two classes to learn how to hand applique and hand quilt. I had also watched Diedra McElroy’s video of That Perfect Stitch and practiced along with her.

Stitching on the back of the orchid block.

 
       Some people would have hidden those weird knots and uneven stitches under another layer of fabric, but I appreciate seeing my progress as a quilter. It tells a story.
       Those first quilt blocks look good together. I'm glad they aren't stowed away in a plastic bin anymore, hidden from view. 

Red hibiscus and Na Lani Pule blocks
 made into pillow covers.

       

Quilt label

Backs of the Hawaiian quilt pillows
made with fabrics from my sister Cynthia's stash.

If my first quilting attempts were a bit surprising, so was the realization that my long held claim that I started quilting in 1999 is wrong. That is when I started machine quilting. But I actually started quilting by hand, and my best guess is that I picked up a quilting needle in 1983. That means this quilt took me 35 years to make! I don’t think I’ll mention that number the next time someone asks me how long it takes to make a quilt.

Laura Keolanui Stark is starting her next “quilt of the month” tomorrow. She can be reached at stark.laura.k@gmail.com.