Betty B
March 2024

My very first blog post over ten years ago included Aunt Betty’s 9 Patch quilt that had been started by my Great Aunt Betty, many, many years ago. I inherited this as a “flimsy” sometime in the last millennia (wow, that’s fun to say), and, based on the fabric, I would guess that she had made it sometime in the 1940’s. It was twin size, and unfortunately, wasn’t very well sewn. At that time, I disassembled down to the block level, selected the best of the 9 patch blocks and reassembled into a lap size quanket. 

Fast forward another ten years.

This year, I’m making an effort to rid myself of all the offcuts that I’ve accumulated from making quilts for the past ten years (somewhere approaching 150). The remaining blocks from Aunt Betty were still sitting in my “whatchagonnadowiththis” pile, so I disassembled the remaining 9-patch blocks down to the original 9 squares, and recut everything to a consistent 4″x4″ size. As I was ripping seams and re-cutting blocks, I thought a lot about how much easier we quilters have it now: when Aunt Betty made this, she didn’t have a rotary cutter or a grid line cutting mat. She would have used a template, shears, and relied on a steady hand. My prior comment about not being “sewn well” is humbled.

I didn’t have enough 4″ squares from her original flimsy to make another lap size quilt, so I pulled from my scraps and stash to fill in the gaps. The backing fabric was some I received from Jocelyn over at Happy Cottage Quilter back in 2022. Her sending me the box stuffed full of fabric goodies is like the gift that just keeps on giving!

My Great Aunt Betty was married to my paternal Grandmother’s brother. While I don’t remember much about Aunt Betty and Uncle Harlan, I do recall that when they visited (which was always a surprise visit, much to my mother’s chagrin), he would give us kids the “spare change” from his pockets, and his pockets were always heavy with change! I also recall that Aunt Betty never divulged her true age.

“One should never trust a woman who tells one her real age. A woman who would tell one that would tell one anything.”
— Oscar Wilde

Funny. I’m the exact opposite. I have no qualms telling my real age (go 63!) and I probably share way too much of my truth (I just find it makes it easier for me to keep the story straight). Aunt Betty avoided telling her actual age for so many years, that in her later years, when dementia set-in, even she didn’t know how old she was. I kind of like that.