Wednesday, June 7, 2017

I Love House Blocks: 14 Quilts from an All-Time Favorite Block


The fourth book in the Block-Buster Quilts series from That Patchwork Place is I Love House Blocks.

And I do love house blocks! Especially, I am loving these house blocks.

There is something here for every quilter, every style, 14 quilts including new blocks and new twists on traditional blocks, from traditional to Modern styles.


A chapter with color photographs teaches construction techniques for easy, precise sewing.

I love so many of these quilts!
Sherbet Town, 74 1/2"  x 74 1/2", uses
16" square blocks with double borders to
create an Irish Chain secondary pattern

Block Party, 65 1/2" x 70" is a
delightful neighborhood I'd love to live in
I love these houses. They remind me of three-story Philadelphia rowhouses.
The Street Where You Live, 64 1/2" x 72 1/2"
showcases floral prints worth of
My Fair Lady's Eliza Doolittle's dresses
This is so cool! Like a Modern Log Cabin. 
Sugar Shack, 60 1/2" x 64 1/2"

Modern minimalism is the style for
Village on a Hill, 44 1/2" x 66 1/2"

Welcome Home, 42 1/2" x 48 1/2"
Uses a strip fabric for architectural detail
I know some quilters who will love this cozy quilt.
Little Country Home, 21 1/2" x 33 1/2"
Sweet embroidery enhances a country cottage block
A neutral gray background makes these color pop.
My Hometown, 55 1/2" x 59"
a quirky and colorful quilt 
See all the quilts in the book at
http://www.shopmartingale.com/blockbuster-quilts-i-love-house-blocks.html

The book comes out June 6, 2017.
$24.99
ISBN: 9781604688580

Monday, June 5, 2017

A Sad Goodbye to Our Dear Suki


Our dear Suki
Last week we had to let our Suki go. She was about 16 years old and had been declining physically and mentally. 

Suki was a puppy mill breeder for her first seven years. The Shiba Inu Rescue Society bought her at auction and she spent a year as a foster dog. When we brought her home she was still very unsocialized, frightened, and ignorant of the world. We worked with her and she blossomed into a brave, smart dog.

Suki, when she came to us, huddled in a corner. I sat next to her
and pet her and talked to her. It took days to get a response.
Suki was a 'red' Shiba with dark hair down her back and on her face. She had a triple-thick coat that felt like velvet.
Suki had to learn to be on a leash, climb stairs, understand open spaces, and the concept that she couldn't go in a straight line when something was between her and her destination. 
Suki 
Suki was our third Shiba Inu. Over the last 30 years, we have had a Shiba Inu for 27.
Happy Suki
When we lived in the country she loved to run! I took her out to run four or five times a day. The wide, open space made her feel very safe. She hated corners and fences because anything could be on the other side. But in the open she was free.
Suki
Suki was large for a Shiba, her ears, head, and chest much bigger than our other Shiba's. She was powerful but a 'gentle giant' who was submissive to other dogs.
Our shy Suki
We wanted her to have a friend and fostered Kara. Sadly he died after nine months, but he did teach Suki to play and run. She was so happy, her tail up.
Kara with Suki (on the right)
She was very bright and a quick learner. She understood what we were saying, like 'back door' and 'front door'.  We could not say, "Do you want to walk the dogs?" because she would be at the door immediately. Then she knew "Do you want to w. the dogs" so we had to say, "Shall we perambulate?"
Add caption
She loved to sit up and beg for treats until I stopped her because I knew she had bad arthritis. Then she just had to sit, and later as she became blind I just made her 'come'. And, she learned to sit for a treat on the second command!
Our old Suki became blind. She loved 'cookie' treats.
Suki liked her cheek stroked and her back rubbed, but any semblance of holding or restraint sent her fleeing. In her younger years, she even enjoyed brushing and baths!

After we lost Kara we adopted Kamikaze. Kaze was a real pistol and bossed Suki around. But as they aged they gave each other great comfort.
Suki with Kamikaze

Suki's back had developed a white strip
Over this last winter, Suki no longer groomed herself, or rolled on her back like she loved. She wanted to go on walks but she had a limp in one leg, a quiver in another, and a front leg was so stiff it did not bend.
In her last months, Suki slept a lot.
As Suki lost her sight and experienced heart problems and arthritis she wanted me in her sight at all times. She became frightened of men again. She was hyper-vigilant all night, pacing and wanting to go outside and check the yard. And she panted deeply, from pain or stress. Some days she slept in past 3 pm or refused to eat her meals.
Suki loved when Kamikaze snuggled up
It was a hard decision to make but I know she was suffering. We will miss our beloved girl.
Suki's last meal was scrambled eggs.


Sunday, June 4, 2017

We Hope for Better Things: Detroit 1967

The summer I turned fifteen a neighbor girl and I stood in our street in Royal Oak, MI watching planes and helicopters flying overhead. They were carrying National Guard from Selfridge Airbase to Detroit.

My dad and his worried coworkers at the Chrysler plant in Highland Park left work early. My church was collecting food and blankets to distribute to people whose homes had been burned.

I heard strangers at the grocery store saying, 'kill them all.' Mom came home from coffee klatches with neighbors, fuming after being told "you don't know, you never lived with 'them'."

I was aware that five miles due south the world was very different from the one I lived in. My dad stopped at Woodward and McNichols to pick up his lab's African American janitor so he didn't have to walk from the bus stop to work. Mom visited a hospital roommate at her Detroit home, and returned ashamed of her working class 'wealth'. And, thanks to my teachers at Kimball High School, I understood the issues behind the riot: housing, jobs, poverty, racism, and dreams deferred.

from Detroit 1967, tank in Detroit
1967, the summer of the Detroit riot, began a descent into hell, ending with the following spring's assassinations of Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy. Before I turned 16 my childhood version of America had been turned on its head, my faith in humanity challenged. I wrote in my diary, "I expect to see an ark any day now."

We hope for better things; it will arise from the ashes. Detroit motto
Reading Detroit 1967 for me was important and often emotionally draining.

The Historical Context

The twenty essays follow the history of African Americans in Detroit, showing the deep roots of Detroit racism.

How many Metro Detroiters know the personages behind our street names--Livernois, Dequindre, Grosbeck, Campau, Cass, John R-- and that these men were slave owners?

Michigan became a 'free state' when it entered the Union in 1837. And yet, The Free Press, started in 1831 with investments by Joseph Campau and John R. Williams, opposed the freeing of the slaves and did not support Lincoln.

Detroit became a crossroads of fugitive slaves, slave catchers, and the Underground Railroad. Fugitive slaves arrived in numbers after the War of 1812. In 1833 there was a riot over runaway slaves. The Underground Railroad helped runaways cross the river to Canada. In 1863,"the bloodiest day that ever dawned upon Detroit," saw a pogrom against African Americans when a white woman falsely reported she was raped by a black man.

European immigrants competed with blacks for jobs and housing, another source for racial tension. And immigrants resented being drafted into the Civil War to fight for black freedom. "If we are got to be killed up for niggers then we will kill every nigger in this town," a rioter proclaimed.

Henry Ford became the largest employer of African Americans in the country, but housing was limited; a wall was even erected. The auto industry whose jobs drew Southern blacks and whites left Detroit for Hazel Park, Dearborn, and Macomb County.

The KKK and Black Legion were active in Detroit in the 1930s. In 1943 there was another Race Riot. "Urban Renewal' destroyed African American neighborhoods. After the 1967 riot the white population fled to the suburbs.

Where the 1967 riot began
The Riot

The 1967 Riot is considered from many vantages, with eye witness memoirs, a time line, commentaries after the event, and viewpoints from a historical perspective. The first-hand accounts of how the riot began were especially revealing. I also appreciated the detailed timeline of events.

I had not known of the controversy over calling the event a riot or a rebellion; it is contended that when white Europeans protested it was called a rebellion, but when African Americans rose up it was labeled a riot.

I was interested in learning about Detroit before we moved here in 1963, how the progressive policies of Jerome Cavanagh and his police commissioners were unable to change grass roots racism, the rebellion against Police Commissioner Hart's attempt to integrate the police cars, and the failure of "top-down reforms."

The later essays address Detroit's death and rebirth. Will all Detroiters be included in the progress?

Learning that I live in "one of the most fractured regions in the country, with more than 150 separate municipalities" that "encourage extreme balkanization" was disturbing. But it is true. In the 1960s I grew up in an all white city, and now 50 years later I live a few miles away in a city with a non-white population of only 11.6%. Oakland County has the highest employment rate and one of the highest median incomes in the country. I live in a bubble.

When I recently blogged about summer 1967 people shared their memories of the riot. Several were returning through Detroit from Canada and saw the fires, or were stopped and checked at the tunnel, worried about getting home. Some recalled tanks going down Woodward. People who worked downtown saw kids carrying things they had stolen or drove by cars on fire. All recalled being afraid the riot would spread out of Detroit and worried about friends living in the city.

Clearly, the summer of the riot was a pivotal event in our lives.

Reading Detroit 1967 helped me to understand the riot from the inside. I am concerned that the conditions that sparked it have not improved.

I received a free ebook from the publisher through Edelweiss in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

Detroit 1967: Origins, Impacts, Legacies
Thomas J. Sugrue, Joel Stone, et. al.
Wayne State University Press @WSUPress
Publication Date: June 5, 2017
$39.99 hard cover
ISBN: 9780814343036, 081434303

For more Detroit history I recommend,

Detroit Historical Museum- Detroit 1967 at http://www.detroit1967.org

One In A Great City by David Marianis, my review at
https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2015/09/once-in-great-city-detroit-story-by.html

Terror in the City of Champions by Tom Stanton, my review at
https://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2016/06/murder-and-baseball-in-depression-era.html

Saturday, June 3, 2017

Nancy Gets an A and a Fiancee


Sophomore year at Adrian
Summer of 1971 ended. I was excited to be back at Adrian and reunited with Gary. We had a whole semester together before he graduated.

The night before Gary took me back to Adrian we played Scrabble with my family. I had a call from my old friend Pat, the girl who in freshman year had been my first Michigan best friend.
Gary and me. That's my Give Earth a Chance button from
the first Earth Day teach-in at Kimball.
 Yes, Gary was a nerd with a pocket protector.
The first semester I was rooming with Marti again in the same first-floor room in Estes Hall. She and Sam were still an item. We did a lot of  'double dating.'

Marti, sophomore year at Adrian
Back on campus our friends, his and mine, became a new mixed group: Gary's Euchre friends, Tim, George, Jack, Marti, and me.  I was happy to hear that George and Nancy were going steady. 
Marti, Sam, Me, Gary, John in the back. Note the smile pins!

Gary started the week with tonsillitis but in a few days we were at Shakey's Pizza in Ohio where Adrian kids went for the legal light beer. I had a root beer. Then he took me to the Franklin Park Mall in Sylvania, looking for a Hot Sams to get a pretzel. 

September 15 I wrote that Gary and I helped Jack collect "nature stuff" for an art class. I tried to collect poison ivy! 

I joined Gary at the library when he played classical music records and listened on headphones. He shared his favorite music with me including Beethoven and Ravel's Bolero. He also showed me Picasso's Guernica, one of his favorite works of art.

At the end of September, there was a Talent Night and it appears I played the piano. We went to a football game and Gary took me to a sleazy Mexican restaurant for tacos.

The Adrian College Chapel
Gary and I talked about everything: life, religion, eternity, people, what we loved. We studied in the library or the Mahon Hall's teacher's lounge at night, drinking the bitter dregs of black coffee hot enough to melt the plastic spoons. 

October 7, 1971, was our fifth month anniversary. On October 10 we were studying in the library and goofing around, talking about how we both loved banana bread. We decided to become engaged.We joked about a wedding in the Pub where we had met. But we didn't tell anyone yet that we were engaged.

Gary bought tickets to see Jesus Christ Superstar by Webber and Rice in the original concert presentation appearing at the Toldeo Masonic Auditorium in November. It was amazing. Gary bought the piano score for me to learn. I played the songs on the piano and sang some with the guitar.


Gary had good study habits and I studied with him, and I spent less time hanging around in the Pub meeting new people, so my grades improved.
Chapel Choir 1971-2. I am in front  row center,
and Marti is in back row center.
Gary, Marti, and I were all in the chapel choir. We performed A Ceremony of Carol for the Christmas Concert. In the spring concert, we performed Zoltan Kodaly's Te Deum and Vaughn Wiliam's Five Mystical Songs. AJ was our fun and fearless director.

Gary and I signed up to take Anthropology with Prof. George Sommers. What a great guy! Gary had friendly conversations with his professors. I had always been intimidated. We got to know Prof. Sommers, who was an ordained UMC minister before earning his Ph.D. in Anthropology.


I never forgot a story Prof. Sommers told the class. It went something like this: There were the people who lived near the shore and there were the people who lived over the mountain in the valley. Each called themselves God's Real Chosen People, and the other group was seen as inferior and hardly human. That simple story summed up all the wars and religious persecution and hatred humans have been cursed with. We see people not like us as others, subhuman, the 'unchosen.' I got an A.

I was in Religion of Mankind in the fall. I loved the class but at 2 pm I drifted off to sleep--Just like I did at 2 pm in Mr. Heald's high school chemistry class! My hand would keep writing notes, scribbling across my paper. But I still got a B. In the spring I took Ancient Philosophy were we read Greek and Roman primary sources. This was more like Mr. Botens class!

Required English Lit was not boring. I discovered Chaucer, Restoration Comedy, and the early novels of Fielding and Richardson. I became obsessed with these early novels. My interest pivoted from Modern American lit to English Lit, especially the early novel.

I signed up for Ecology in the fall and Oceanography in the spring. I loved both classes, but especially Oceanography. I fantasized about becoming a Marine Biologist. If only I could handle the math! I got an A.


I took Politics of Development with Dr. deLepinasse. The class read a book a week. I believe one book was sci-fi. Another was Thomas Kuhn's The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, a book that left an impression on me with its thesis that every new discovery must overthrow the old paradigm of thinking before it becomes accepted.

I remember Prof. deLepinasse invited the class to his house and started a conversation about offering amnesty for men who had fled to Canada to escape being drafted into the Vietnam War.

I took Creative Writing with Dr. Jay. One a poem I wrote grappled with the sadness I felt every spring, plagued by memories from 1968 and the horrible events of that year. It was a theme I would later return to.

My poems were not very good; in fact, they had actually become lousy. I was trying to be avant-garde but instead was vague and too self-referential. I barely scrapped by with a B. My professor noted that I was 'not that bad' but I had not done significant rewriting.

I wrote one good poem, Third Window Scene, inspired by a window view I saw during a class on the third floor.


The long tall tops
of the pine trees
outside the window

perform a frantic
wind dance
seeming wild creatures
possessed by demons.

Clouds rumble and roll
like gray giants wrestling,
dusky shadows obscuring
what sunlight momentarily brightened.

The wind pushes the dense
rain-packed stormclouds
over the heaven's day-face

its breezy bottom edge
trailing across the 
pointed top boughs
of dancing pines.

It inspired a fellow student to write a poem in response. She became a professor and poet. I can at least feel proud that I once inspired her!

I only got into the Seminar in Modern Literature, a 400 level lit class, because I pleaded to be allowed to. I had not taken 200 or even 300 level coursework in English.

The focus was on Black Comedy, which I had never heard of. We read Joseph Heller's Catch-22, Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five, John Barth's Sot-Weed Factor and The Floating Opera and Chimera, The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow and other novels I can't recall. I had never read anything like them. I got another A.

As a matter of fact, my grades were so improved that I was given a grant from the college for the spring semester, which added to my state scholarship and Rotary grant, was a real help.

Girls from the dorm, Tim, and George.
Note the Smile poster on the wall!
On Sundays mornings Gary took me to Big Boy where we had breakfast. Then he bought a Detroit Free Press and we sat in Estes Hall's living room and read the paper together. My dorm mom really liked Gary because he was going into the ministry.

My Grandmother Ramer sold her home and moved in with my parents.  The bedroom Mom had redecorated in blues and purples with a Mod daisy bedspread was no longer mine when I came home. It was now Grandma Ramer's room and I slept on a folding cot in my brother's bedroom!
Mom had decorated with this pattern!
Christmas came. Marti gave Sam a long scarf she had knit.
Marti and Sam with the scarf she knit him
I gave Gary a rocking chair and my photograph.

Me and Gary at Christmas 1971. I gave him the rocking chair.


The oil tinted photograph I gave Gary, Christmas 1971
My grandmother decided to sell the house in Berkley and move in with my parents. They wanted to buy a new house that would better accommodate the blended family.
second semester, freshman year ID
Gary graduated mid-year. Beginning in January 1972 he would study for his MDiv at the Methodist Theological School in Ohio, known as METHESCO, in Delaware, Ohio.
Gary's senior photo for college graduation
At some point, we told our folks that we were engaged to be married. First, we were going to wait two years until I graduated. I thought about transferring to another school, like Kent State, to be near him. But by going to school in Ohio I would lose my grants.

Finally, I suggested we marry after the end of my school year. That way, I could be with Gary during seminary and 'figure out' what this minister thing was all about. I would try to take classes at Ohio Wesleyan or finish my education after he graduated. At first, we thought about September, then we settled on June 17. We had met on the 7th and became engaged on the 10th, so 7+10=17!


In January my parents moved into a newer brick ranch in Clawson, just about two miles further north up Main Street. There was a living room and family room so my grandmother could be separate from family activities. Dad finished the basement in a hurry so it would be ready for the wedding.

My Mom and Aunt Nancy and Grandma Ramer ganged up on me to get a wedding planned.

We contacted my high school journalism teacher Mr. Rosen to take the photographs. Mom said for years he had some of my photos on display.
Mr. Rosen's card shows $125 price for the wedding photographs
My home church was too expensive to rent because they had no record that I had recently tithed. So we went to St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Ferndale where my grandfather had been a deacon.

Gary and I decided on simple daisies for flowers.

I did not want an engagement ring or a wedding gown. I had no interest in a diamond and was too practical to waste money on a dress to be worn once. Gary and I chose gold wedding bands engraved with a floral vine.

Mom was exasperated by my wanting a street dress and convinced me to rent a wedding gown. I found one I liked; they had to order one in my size so I had a new dress anyway. My folks planned for a reception in the back yard. I asked my Tonawanda second cousin Debbie Becker, daughter of my dad's Uncle Lee, to be my bridesmaid.

My second semester at Adrian was long and boring and yet I was content. I spent most of my time alone, sometimes talking with a friend in the Pub. I studied and read and waited for weekends when Gary would visit. He would crash with someone at the men's dorm. He had no money to buy meals and made peanut butter and pickle sandwiches from the open counter foods. 

Spring came and then school's end. Sam had left school and joined the service, and he and Marti had broken up. Marti and Jack became an item and later married. Lynn had left school and she later she joined the service. George had to find a job and save money to continue his schooling. He did marry Nancy. Other friends were graduating. Had I stayed at Adrian it would have seemed empty.
The People Collecting Club roster spring 1971
Two summers previous I had felt in limbo with Kimball in the past and Adrian in the future. Now, Adrian was to be in the past. Gary was my future. I had little idea of what that really meant.  

I spent the two weeks between school's end and our wedding reading War and Peace on the patio of the new house while Mom and Grandma agonized about the wedding. The dress did not arrive until the last minute. I wasn't worried; I figured I could just wear the going-away dress. I was unfazed and deep into the world of Pierre and Prince Andrei, Natasha, and Sonya.



Thursday, June 1, 2017

Mini-Reviews: Troubled Families

Anne Tyler's A Spool of Blue Thread was my book club's May pick. I had two friends, and a spouse, who didn't finish the book because it lacked a compulsive narrative.

I found that around page 140 things got very interesting, and in the last sections, devastating. What seems to be a boring family is revealed to be a sad failure spanning generations.

There are remarkably funny scenes. I laughed at loud at the complaint asking why people only bring casseroles to the grieving; why not wine?

And in the end, there is hope that, regardless of how messed up our family is, we will survive and perhaps learn to do better ourselves.

Several of my book club members enjoyed the book, but others who read Tyler's other books were disappointed. In the end, I was glad to have read the book.


The Bronte family had more than its share of troubles, and Charlotte was not spared.

Brian Wilk's Charlotte in Love: The Courtship and Marriage of Charlotte Bronte considers the famous writer's relationships with the important men in her life: her father, The Reverend Patrick; her brilliant but doomed brother Branson; her teacher Professor Heger, who Charlotte fell for; her young publisher George Smith who introduced her to the literary world; and Arthur Nicholas Bell, her father's lowly curate who fell madly in love with his boss's plain and dutiful daughter, even if she was a brilliant novelist.

The story of Bell's patient courtship and how Charlotte turned from ridiculing the curate to pity to accepting him as the love of her life is also the story of a strong and controlling father protecting against the loss of his only surviving child.

Although the writing is a bit stodgy, the information is fascinating. Make no mistake about it: Charlotte was a woman of independent spirit and high passion and desperate to connect emotionally and physically.