Like many good women down our way, my grandmother and mother made quilts. In fact, they pieced together more quilts than my family of three gets to use. However, I can never have enough quilts, and I know where there are some more in my parents' house. But, because my mother tried to teach me to share, and because some of her teachings did take hold despite it all, I'll leave those other quilts where they are in case my siblings develop an urge to possess them.

The quilts in this column were made by
G.A. Robbins, 1887 - 1974.

When I was about to leave home for college, my grandmother, G.A. Robbins, began piecing a quilt for me. One of Grandma's contemporaries saw the progress during a visit, and she told my grandmother how much she liked it. Miss Georgianna (hence the G.A. part of her name) smiled sweetly and said, "I'm making this one for Marvin." Grandma's friend asked for it andway, and Grandma snapped, "You'll never get it!"

The lady thought she'd try her luck with my mother and walked over to our house. "Clairo, that's a nice quilt Georgianna's making. I want you to help me get it." My mama said, "The day you get that quilt is the day I sweat witcha'." I take the lady's efforts as a compliment.

I've seen some really gorgeous quilts since then. There's at least one that is almost as striking as the masterpieces some of the quilters in our Four Counties. A friend of mine has even exhibited his collection around the country, even at the Smithsonian.

I can apply many fitting adjectives to the elaborate and artful quilts I've seen elsewhere, but none of them have ever kept me warm. The ones you see here have. The efforts of those around us are what matters most.

Top and bottom quilts: Pearlene Clairo Robbins Jones,
1920 - 1987, both undated.