What Remains is Love

Yes, Gentle Readers, there will be sharing of what I've been working on -- for there's been quite a bit of that -- but it will come later today in a separate post.

You see, friends, tomorrow -- Saturday, August 9, 2025 -- marks the 19th anniversary of my husband Howard's death from Type 1 Diabetes.

But...it's more than that. Fifty years ago tomorrow we were married.  We were just months away from our twenty-third birthdays.  We were pen-pals in the ninth grade, lost touch, reconnected in October 1974 -- and just months later became life partners.

He had moved from his hometown of Vancouver, B.C., to take a job an 'operator' -- a behind-the-scenes producer -- at a popular rock radio station in Montreal, playing tunes like this one, which became "our song":

Sedaka is back, baby! 😉

St. John's parish - Est. 1826

We were married on a hot, breezy day in St. John's Anglican church in my hometown, Huntingdon, Quebec -- and not without some trepidation, because his family was Jewish, and weren't really happy about the entire situation.  

However, our priest was on top of it.  He took the service from the more contemporary Episcopalian prayer book (USA), and there was only the wedding ceremony -- no other sacraments.  Following his introduction to be 'comfortable' for the prayers, my parents set the example and all stayed standing.  Lightning did not strike, and we made a happy celebration out of the entire day.

During the signing of the documents with our witnesses, we had another favourite song played..."If" by David Gates:

We got by with a little help from our friends...

Clockwise from lower left:
Bridesmaid -- my friend Martha Reeve;
Maid of Honour -- my sister, Wendy Daniel;
me and Howard; 
Best Man -- Howard's friend, Larry Long;
Groomsman -- our friend Wendell Siddall;
and Bridesmaid-- my friend Peg Simpson.

A year after our marriage, with political unrest and uncertainty in Montreal, we moved west to Alberta, setting in Calgary, where he had cousins and I had my sister.  There we raised our two children, and spent 30 happy years until his death.

The year before he died, we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary with a cruise up the inside passage from Vancouver, B.C. to Alaska and back. The remarkable service, "Dialysis at Sea" made this possible, for by then Howard had spent nearly a decade, three times a week, taking kidney dialysis treatments at the Foothills Hospital, near the University of Calgary.

When we landed again in Vancouver, his mother had a reunion of family and old friends at her apartment to celebrate all those years together.

It was really our last, best celebration...and our daughter created an album for us filled with memories from that trip.

A bit more than a year later, Howard was gone.

He was my biggest fan as I began my fledgling art quilt journey, and was truly the only person who knew me well -- and loved me anyway.  He is buried in a little rural cemetery outside of Huntingdon, founded by my great-great-grandfather's brothers, and I hope to visit there next year, on the 20th anniversary of his passing. 

I've lost touch with my friend Martha, and our friend Wendell is now a widower, but I see my sister often, and remain in touch a few times a year with Larry and his wife, Lydia.  As for my friend Peg, well -- we remain particularly close, even as we age.

Larry and Lydia will celebrate 50 years marriage in December this year, so I am mulling what to create as a special gift for them.

And so it goes.

Every anniversary -- being a double anniversary -- has been a challenge for me these last 19 years, but this year, the sweetness of those months and that day, a half-century ago, is more present than the sorrow of his loss.

Next year, the 20th since his death, I will go home to Quebec to visit Peg. We'll likely bunk in with my cousins in Huntingdon, and drive out to Hillside Cemetery to pay respects -- to all who have gone before, yes, but most especially to the man who stole my heart all those years ago, and blessed me with a most wonderful life and legacy.

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." -- 1 Corinthians 13:13 

"What Remains is Love"
Black Bird Designs
Adapted by me,
in memory of Howard - 2022

Birthday Reflections

I'm old. I love my children, even if they don't always believe it. They are the life that came from me and my late DH. They are the last of our direct line, as they have no children of their own (yet). No matter. They are the embodiment of the best we knew how to be and give and share.

My next year may be better or worse than this past one; God only knows. I will continue to look for hope, to care for others as God expects, to love and pray and serve and create beauty...to exercise the gifts I've been given. It is all I can do and be.

But it's all being done for the Creator, for the memory of my husband, and for my children. May the Creator give me the grace to carry on.

Our Family - ca September 1985

A Weekend Full and Rich

I spent this past weekend in Calgary for a wedding -- my late husband's cousin's eldest son, on my mother-in-law's side of the family.  :-)  I point that out only to illustrate how complex family relationships can be, and how easy it is to lose touch when you're related only by marriage.  I've been blessed to be able to stay in touch, however infrequently, and so to be part of special events in the life of this family, even though we live so far apart, and see each other so seldom.

The bride is lovely, sweet, funny, talented and self-confident.  The groom is reserved, gentle, kind and funny.  Each is very in love with the other.  Each has two full sets of parents/step-parents, all of whom were present and involved in the wedding, without apparent rancour or resentment.  All devoted their weekend to honouring the happy couple.

Making the food as interesting as it was delicious was the fact that, though being married in a (very) reform Jewish tradition, respect was paid to those present who might have more orthodox practice (i.e., 'keep kosher') and to those who might be vegetarian (vegan) and/or gluten-intolerant.

It was a very eclectic mix and a delightfully happy time -- and I took no pictures!

I finished the weekend by attending a great little two-group textile art exhibit mounted by FOG (Fibre Optics Group) and FAE (Fibre Art Explorations) at the Canyon Meadows Community Hall.  The venue is located down a winding street that's not well marked, and there was no signage, but when I got there the parking lot was almost full, and it seems to me that someone estimated that by the time I left (2:30 p.m.), there had been roughly 500 people through since the show opened (noon)!

Here are some of the reasons why (all photos posted with permission of the artists):

"Study #1 - 'Re' Series" - Diane Duncan
("Re" = reduce, reuse, recycle)

"The Fabric of My Life" - Diane Duncan

"What Makes a Quilt Modern?" - Diane Duncan

AND

"What Makes a Quilt Traditional?" - Diane Duncan

"My Scrap Yard Quilt" - Karen Jurek

"Quail" - Meredith Helgeson (mixed media)

"Untitled" - Meredith Helgeson

"Copper Tree" - Suzanne Stranks

"Julius Caesar Goes to Tokyo" - Suzanne Stranks

Please Note: the density of the exhibit contents in the space combined with the number of viewers at any one time made it difficult to take photos!  Sometimes I had to work at an odd angle, and a couple of the above are cropped to remove someone's head or shoulder from the frame!

Just as delightful and inspiring as the artwork, was the company.  I knew Diane Duncan would be there, as she is a colleague of mine from SAQA Western Canada and had told me of the exhibit in the first place.  I didn't count on seeing Suzanne or Karen (both with pieces in the show) or re-connecting with Meredith (ditto) -- and I certainly didn't expect to run into my friends arlee and Sha in the audience.  I was also introduced to a couple of new faces, which is always a plus.  Then there were familiar names in one of the guest books -- gals who'd been there earlier in the afternoon, whom I'd missed.

I came home rejuvenated, relatively relaxed and ready to get back into the studio.  One can only wish for every weekend away to be so lovely!

Last But Not Least

Week Three of my 10th "Blog-aversary" celebrations begins now -- and it's all about fabric -- or at least, quilting with it.

In the scheme of things, I haven't been quilting that long.  I learned to knit from my mother -- as I mentioned last week -- around age 8.  Mom knit till she couldn't see to do so (about age 85).  Her mother knit (Grandma D died in her seventies, when I was a toddler); my father's mother knit, my father's sister -- my dear Aunt A -- knit into her early nineties (she died at 94 in 2002).

But my Grandma R -- my father's mother -- was also a superb seamstress who created patterns out of newspaper and made her farm family's clothes, all on a treadle machine, and who quilted.  I still have a pink and white single Irish chain that she made me, which I used on my bed in my first apartment, but which was torn one summer when I was away and someone else was 'apartment-sitting' for me.  It now hangs on a quilt rack in my guest room, along with several of the quilts her daughter -- Aunt A -- made for me, and the Golden Wedding Ring given my parents (I commissioned it) on the occasion of their 25th wedding anniversary.  These quilts are pieced by machine, but all hand quilted by a group of women in my home town who met regularly around a frame.  I'm not sure if my Aunt A was one of them or not.  And most of them were constructed of fabric scraps -- many sent to her by me -- from garment sewing.  The only 'new' fabric bought for them, latterly, was for backing and maybe backgrounds or binding.

I still use several of these quilts on the two beds in my home, but they are wearing, and so I joined Bonnie Hunter's Mystery Quilt-along for the past two years so that now I have tops to replace them.  I enjoy the quilt-alongs so much, and have enough stash so that I can see myself doing this for a few more years at least!

I've sewn since about age 11, when I took my first Home Economics classes in Grade 6.  Half the year was spent cooking and half, sewing.  I'd just started to embroider at that stage, and still have the little felt needle-book we each had to make as the first project in our sewing class.  I think in Grade 7 we made an apron -- mine was turquoise and white gingham, and I think I still have it somewhere (it still fits!).  In Grade 8 we learned gathers and casings with a peasant blouse and gathered skirt.  By Grade 9 things were more complex, and I think that's the year I made a wool suit -- straight skirt with waistband and back zipper, and a jacket with a notched collar and bound button holes.  I wore that thing for years whenever I had to look particularly spiffy for lunch or a meeting or function.  My last year of Home Economics was, as I recall, Grade 10 -- I took 10 and 11 together and wrote my final exam at the end of that year.  The project was home decor-related and my first experience with a teacher (not the one who'd taught me to that point) who had no imagination.  But that's another story!

When I got my own apartment in university, my parents bought me a second-hand portable sewing machine that weighed a TON and had all kinds of fancy 'bobbins' for decorative stitches, which I rarely used.  I used that machine till one day, in my married-with-kids life, I dropped it, and it died.  I'd been making clothes for myself and the kids, but by this time my daughter was taking sewing lessons and making her own.  Her teacher was a neighbour who had a "Kids Can Sew" program through Husqvarna, and when after the first three years she had to turn over her sewing machines, she offered me one at her original cost -- and carried the warranty on it for a year.  I was thrilled!  It had a free-arm!  Now I could do set-in sleeves without sweating!

Of course, by then I was making fewer garments altogether, let alone setting in sleeves!  And my DH's Type 1 Diabetes was really starting to rear its ugly head, meaning that my stress level was going 'way up.

Enter two dear friends who are quilters.  They opined that cutting and sewing strips of fabric would soothe me, and give me an outlet besides knitting and cross-stitch (the type of embroidery I favoured at the time).  I fell for it, went to a couple of demo-type classes...and then found My Sewing Room (smaller then than it is now) and the Magic Tiles quilt pattern by Kathleen Bissett...and fell all the way down that rabbit hole.

I took a few classes in silk ribbon work and crazy quilting, having found the CQ block done by my grandmother -- Maria Flood McIntosh -- with her maiden initials and the date embroidered on it (1894).

Then I saw an exhibit of patchwork and contemporary embroidery by the City and Guilds students of Gail Harker (there was a class of 8 in Calgary, which she taught as a single group, even coming up from Oak Harbor, WA to do so)...and I said to one of those dear quilting friends, "I have to do this".  I met Anna Hergert there...took a class from her, and another and another...and..."The rest", as They say, "is history".

Here's the last of the three Goodie Packs I prepared as gifts for the Gentle Readers who, by virtue of commenting on blog posts through the past couple of weeks, rendered themselves eligible.  All comments from Weeks One and Two have been dispensed with, for a fresh start.  Again this week, the winner of the package shown below will be drawn from all the readers who leave comments between when this post goes 'live' into cyber-space, and about 8 a.m. Mountain Standard Time on March 1, when I make the final draw and the party ends...

Remember: your name is entered each time you comment, whether on this particular post or on subsequent posts through the week, even if you comment every day.  :-)

This last gift pack includes:

• A pristine copy of Quilting Arts magazine -- June/July 2012 (they sent me two!), which includes an article by cyber-friend and SAQA colleague, Regina Dunn, as well as others by Lyric Kinard and Jane Davila and my every-issue-favourite, The Goddess of the Last Minute, Robbie Joy Eklow;
• A pristine copy of quirky quilting: 20 easy and fun projects by Tomme J. Fent; 
• A pristine quilter's journal -- A Patchwork Notebook -- from quilting legend, Jinny Beyer;
• And the pattern and fabric for "4-Patch Furrows".  The pattern is from Quilt Country and the fabric is enough for the top, including the 'zinger' border (the blue) and outer border.  (You're on your own for backing and batting for this 70" x 99" quilt top -- or for whatever else you decide to do with the fabric!).

And just as in previous weeks, there'll likely be a surprise gift or two given away between now and next Friday...Y'all come back soon, y'hear?  :-)

Thinkin' about...

My "baby" -- i.e., the youngest of my 2 children -- who turns 25 today. Happy Birthday, Sweetie!

Sunday, Lovely Sunday

When I'm doing well and feeling good, Sundays can be such a delight. I begin with my usual morning routine -- dark, hot, rich coffee and my Morning Pages, cozy in the early dark under a quilted throw, with a candle lit on the table before me and a good lamp burning brightly over my right shoulder. I follow these pages with a few notes in my Gratitude Journal. There was a time when I thought both of these tools were silly, touchy-feely, New Age-y things, but as I 've made a habit of using them, I've come to realize how good they are for my mental and emotional health. In them I first release all the worries (petty and not-so-petty), all the drivelling and snivelling I tend to build up inside, and then I take a look at my blessings, which are, really, what's most genuine and important in life.

After the Writing comes the Reading. Right now I'm working my way through a daily devotional that is simply reflection on a series of related scriptures, a different theme chosen for each day. I follow this with a short excerpt from an inspiring book; right now this is First Light by Sue Monk Kidd.

Today I began the chapter entitled "Simplicity of Spirit" which, by its very title, is both a reminder and an inspiration. Like Sue, I have come through life events that are "...exfoliating. They shuck me down to some place that is thick with luminosity and resilience, an enduring inner ground." In other words, when we endure trial or come through a rigorous program of spiritual discipline, we come to understand (rather like The Velveteen Rabbit) that which is real. Kidd writes, "It's as if the foreground of life, where we spend the majority of our time, fades away, and we are left in the great background that is God, against which all life exists."

All I can add is, how right she is! And when I glimpse Real life, I find myself, like C.S. Lewis, surprised by joy.

Today is such a day. I went to church where I worshipped, studied, learned, celebrated, communed with God, shared food and drink and good conversation. Now I am home, listening to the most beautiful music (the CBC's Sunday Afternoon in Concert has been featuring that of Mendelssohn and Schumann in their bicentennial years), and catching up with my online reading and correspondence. I am in that place of beauty, joy and delight in all that is in my life, and it would take a great deal to shake my equanimity.

In Knitting...

Part of the celebration of this morning was giving my dear friend, L, the prayer shawl I'd made her for her Ordination to the Transitional Diaconate (Anglican) next week. The pattern I selected was the "Seven Sacraments" shawl from The Prayer Shawl Companion by Janet Bristow and Victoria Cole-Galo. I have been

knitting like mad for the past 6 weeks -- ever since we learned the Ordination was going ahead -- and I finished it last night, laundered it, and added the fringes this morning.

Some shawl patterns can be very boring and monotonous, but to date, I've found that the patterns in this book are not so. This one was easy to memorize, but used a combination of threes and fours -- garter stitch, seed stitch, stocking stitch, and a simple lace -- that was both fascinating and spiritually meaningful. Like those yarns that are self-striping, I wanted to keep knitting to see what the next section of the pattern would bring. I measured my progress according to where I was in the pattern, assigning partial or whole sections to be completed in a given sitting, which made working to a deadline much more enjoyable.

Knitting Notes: For this project I used "Sonata" from the Endless Summer Collection, available once upon a time from elann.com. It knits up easily, and is completely machine launder-able, coming out soft and light, all of its pre-wash stiffness gone. I also used a 5 millimetre circular needle; in this case, Addie Turbos. The only tricky bit in the pattern is the "YO, k2tog*" section. If you, in haste, drop a stitch in this section, be prepared to frog. There's little else you can do because of the nature of that hole-y lace pattern! (I know this from experience on this project!!)

On Other Fronts...

I've been working in my studio, creating a series of small quilted pieces based on the natural sights and sounds of the countryside around me. I have been journalling this on my wiki page at The Visioning Project, under the auspices of SAQA University; I'm not ready to share this work here. However, I am also investigating website development, and when that comes to fruition there will a link, never fear.

Now I am in the thick of constructing Christmas gifts. Because my DD reads this blog, that's all I'm going to say about that... except to add that I love to give a combination of commercial/monetary gifts and handmade ones at Christmas. It gives me a chance to put my heart into the season in a deeper and richer way.

My DS has arranged to have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off, and will be making the trek up here -- 5 hours' driving each way, not counting stops. That alone is a gift for me, as he accompanies me to church on Christmas Eve and we revel in the old hymns and the glorious story of the Incarnation. My DD will be here for The Day, and I am hoping my sis can join us too. Diesel-cat will make a fuss over the tree and the treats he might find under the table. Whatever the weather, we'll be cozy inside. I hope for and look forward to a rosy glow of family feeling, good food, happy memories and much laughter, followed by a good night's sleep at the end of the Very Best Day of the year.

This week my American friends experience some of this early festive, ward-off-the-dark, count-your-blessings season, as they celebrate their Thanksgiving. Best wishes, all of you, for safe travel, for happiness and health, and for the gift of giving and sharing the holiday with others -- the discovery of that which is Real. :-)

Remembering

From my journal this morning:

I am trying not to worry, but the shape I'm (not) in is occupying my mind greatly. That, and being forgotten again at birthday time by D, J, and C, in a way. I should let this roll off. They are busy women and now live far from me -- farther, as my neighbour says, than I live from them. My SIL did call me on the day, yes -- "to check up on me", she said, three times during the course of our conversation. She never mentioned my birthday. Neither did I.

Being remembered is so important, though. In fact, it seems to me that it has become such a pre-occupation in our culture that people seek celebrity -- even in wierd and wonderful ways -- in order to make it happen, to ensure they are remembered.

That is not the sort of remembering I seek. I don't want to be notorious, or to achieve my "fifteen minutes of fame", as Andy Warhol put it. I simply want to be loved enough to be remembered on my birthday by my family and close friends.

Instead, I receive well wishes on Ravelry and Facebook from relatively unknown acquaintances, and from complete strangers!

Today, several thousand will be remembered because they were killed in the World Trade Center, at the Pentagon, and in a farmer's field on this day in 2001.

Wednesday, I was in the congregation that remembered K, wife of M, mother of H and J, who died last week of a rare and terrible cancer at the age of 46.

It is an honour and a duty and a privilege to remember those taken from us by war or disease, but there is something very sweet and special -- particularly so -- about being remembered when one is still among the living. If one is remembered on the small occasion of one's birth by those who are nearest and dearest, it is an affirmation of their love and friendship, an assurance of one's worth and an appreciation of one's life as it is now. That's why it means so much.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Today, my eldest, my DD, is 28 -- and I am now exactly twice her age. How did that happen? The years have gone by so quickly...

From a wee one








To a creative college student...











From a beautiful bride...To a bright post-graduate, on her own again,











a caring friend...



and beloved daughter. I love you. Blessings on you for the year ahead!

'Twas a Holly Jolly Christmas

What a lovely day yesterday! There was more love, light and laughter in my wee home than the last couple of Christmases, and what a wonderful blessing that was. My kids and sister joined me to celebrate The Day and while we all spoiled each other with goodies, and enjoyed a Grand Feast, the best part was just talking, joking, reminiscing and fooling around together.


Apparently, Diesel had always been boarded out for Christmas, as his furless family flew to the Maritimes for the holidays each year. So this being his first Christmas, one of his favourite spots to relax was under the tree!



*Photos beautifully crafted by my daughter. Yes, that is a Noro two-ball scarf you see around her neck! :-)