How the West Has Fun - Part II: Reflections Two Years After Leaving the States

My friend and I were standing in front of a wall covered with quilts. A young woman turned to ask us, “Do people in Sisters just really like quilts?”

I mean, there were over a thousand quilts hanging from every available upright surface in the downtown area and frames set up in all the green spaces to hold even more.

She continued, “We just drove over to see what’s in Sisters.”

“You didn’t know this would be here? Where do you live?”

“Bend. We’ve been here for a year.”

Okay, so she had an excuse. I smiled. “Sisters is Quilters’ Mecca. People come from all over the world for this show.” I can’t imagine how overwhelmed she must have been to accidentally discover 10,000 people wandering around a small town that the internet says has a population of 3400.

Literally, wandering around. No idea who was in front, behind, or beside them.

Here’s what I found on one frame:

Each of these leaves is a separate piece of fabric. I nearly touched the block with my nose, trying to get close enough to figure out how they were all applied.

This was one block from a contest. Each quilter received six squares of twelve different fabrics. Contestants could use one solid fabric of their choice to augment the design. They could also add embroidery, beading, or other fabric arts. The theme: Free Spirit.

Here is another from the same contest. It reminds me of the rooster that lived on our lane in Costa Rica. Same attitude—free spirit:

NO TOUCHING! I spent the whole morning with my hands clasped behind my back, the better to resist temptation to manipulate these things to figure out the techniques. Like, how is the this one put together, all those sharp points?

I have attended the quilt show almost every year since I moved to Sisters. Get out early in the morning while it’s cool. Wear a hat. Bring water. After ninety minutes, take a break someplace cool. After lunch, check out the quilts in the city park where there are trees.

Also, talk to people! The quilters are often standing near their works. When I was taking a break from writing my first memoir, I spent fifteen minutes conversing with this woman about her process.

It turns out there are similarities between writing and quilting. Where do the pieces fit? How can we graciously accept the suggestion from the spouse that feels like interference, but suddenly solves a problem? How can moving a word or a circle around on the surface clarify intent or reach the creator’s smile of satisfaction?

I met a couple from Dyersville, Iowa. Yes, I have been there. We chatted about the Field of Dreams. Theirs is a later in life marriage—when he discovered how much it cost to quilt the tops that she pieced, he bought himself a long-arm sewing machine. Now their quilts are a joint project.

Quilters from around the world — One year I met women from a quilters’ group in Great Britain. They were thrilled when their quilts were accepted in the show, and came over together. Their theme was, appropriately enough, the English Garden:

Here is a detail:

Tiny little buttons to hold the centers together. From my gingerbread house days, I know what immense joy it is to solve a construction problem with a fix that delights.

I have hundreds of photos from over the years that I could cram into this post. Just one more bit. There isn’t a ribbon for it, but I would give one called the “Traffic Stopper’s Prize.” It seems that every year there is one quilt where the flow of admirers comes to a halt.

Ten years ago, traffic stopped while mums and especially nanas oohed and aahed and jiggled for room to take their photos of this quilt made from baby clothes. “Why hadn’t we thought to do that?” was the question we discussed, those of us whose children were grown and flown.

So. Last week I published Guns and Mexican Food - Part I Reflections on my return to the US:. This week, Part II.

The life endures. People talk about politics a lot more than they used to. But they also set it aside. People continue to share their gifts—to create community based on common passions. Common loves and possibilities.

Don’t let your assumptions about other people, even people with whom you might disagree, make you miss the fun.

This is one summer day in the West—How the West Has Fun.

How is community enduring in your community?