Kate Asalee

My great-grandmother, Kate Asalee, was my dad's mother's mother and the only quilter in the family that I know of. Born in 1891, she lived her whole life in rural North Carolina. Her husband, Joe, died in 1933 at the age of 42, leaving her with a houseful of kids. She ran the little general store in Summerfield and somewhere along the way, married a name named Earl. I used to love to go out to visit them on Sunday afternoons. She exuded a warmth and had a way about her. Earl would set me on top of a mule named Sunshine and we'd ride around the fields. It was a magical place.

Kate passed away in 1976. I have two things that were hers; her mother's ring with 8 stones and a quilt she made for my dad when we went away to college. I wore her ring as the "something old" on my wedding day. The quilt, I took from my brother who had it in the back of his truck. I told him I would give it back but I think he already knew that was a lie.

The quilt was in bad shape. The old cotton batting was lumpy and migrated. The back was ripped up the middle and there were holes and tears in the front. It was nasty. So, I took it apart to try and salvage it. She had tied it randomly so I removed all the ties and sadly discarded the backing. I hand washed the top in the tub about 10 times, added a muslin back and retied it, trying to tie in the same spots she did.
I always had in the back of my mind that I would reproduce the quilt. But, when my cousin invited all the women to gather last weekend, I decided now was the time. I would reproduce the quilt (a smaller version anyway) for all of us. Remember about a month and a half ago when I made the mad dash to Mary Jo's? That's when I got the fabric and started making the seven quilts. With a little help from my friends a couple of weeks ago, I was able to make my deadline.

So Friday night, I gave everyone a quilt and a little note with Kate Asalee's photo.




Here's what the note said:

Sunday trips to Summerfield, a wonderland of flowers outside
You sat in a cinderblock house, a smile, so happy to see us,
Silver frame glasses hiding eyes full of love and a little devilment
The stories we have make us wonder about the ones we have lost
But in each of us we see you
Echoes of your smile, your eyes, your laugh, your joy, your strength.
With every stitch I think of you and honor you as I remake your quilt,
the only one I have of your hand.
With every stitch I think of the woman who receives this quilt,
an echo of your hand through my hand.
We remember. We will always remember.