they gave out at buryings long ago in memory of the dead. Who else but Opalina would have saved them? I whispered to Ada June that I’d go cold before I slept under that quilt, and she whispered back that maybe that’s what it was for—to cover a cold body. Every time somebody admired a ribbon, Opalina told us about the person it represented, giving all the details of the death.
“I never saw a summer that promised so much in June and delivered so little in September,” Forest Ann said, cutting off Opalina, who was explaining that the ribbons that were lined up like sausages were for the members of one family that had been killed by a twister.
“It didn’t promise me a thing in June,” Nettie said. She was down-in-the mouth that day, maybe because of Velma. Forest Ann had told me that Velma had taken up with a combine salesman out of Coffeyville, which upset Nettie because he was a married man. She was afraid that Tyrone would find out, and I couldn’t blame her. Talk about catching “Hail, Columbia!” He’d thrash Velma within an inch of her life.
“Would you like to read, Queenie?” Opalina asked. The only book in Opalina’s house was the Bible, and I did not want to read Scripture. The last time I did, Opalina had me read the
begats
in Genesis.
“Oh, let’s not. Let’s just talk and tell Mrs. Judd when she gets here that we already read.”
“That would be a lie,” Nettie said.
I blushed and felt one of those horsehairs poke right into my back as punishment. “It’d be just a little fib,” I said, defending myself. If fibs were so bad, then I ought to tell Nettie that the goiter on her neck made her look like a frog.
“Queenie, why don’t you bring us up-to-date on the Celebrity Quilt,” Mrs. Ritter said. “We won’t wait for Septima and Ella.”
Mrs. Ritter always had a way of finding something enjoyable to talk about. The Celebrity Quilt was the reason I’d expected such a nice quilting that day. It was just about the most important thing that had ever happened to Persian Pickle, and I was the one who got to tell about it, because it had been my idea.
The Persian Pickle Club hadn’t been in any hurry to begin sewing on the Celebrity Quilt, of course. The longer that quilt took us, the more time we’d have before Reverend Olive came back to us with another project. Still, we’d started planning for it right away by making a list of people whose autographs we wanted to include—people such as Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, Ronald Colman, Babe Ruth, and Aimee Semple McPherson. When I put down Mae West as a joke, Nettie got so riled up that Mrs. Judd said, “Let her stay. It’s men that bid on these quilts, and men’ll pay more for Mae West than Sister Kenny.”
We asked Rita to write the letters to the celebrities because she was the writer in the group. She’s also the only one with a typewriter, but I know how to type, so I helped her. The two of us made a special trip to the library in Topeka to look up addresses of movie studios and radio stations and the White House. Then we went to lunch at the Hotel Jayhawk and paid fifty cents each for tuna-fish sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I had as much fun with her that day as I ever did with Ruby.
Nettie and Forest Ann cut out the squares of muslin for the people to autograph. Mrs. Judd bought the stamps to mail the letters, but she was against enclosing stamped return envelopes because she said celebrities were rich enough to spend three cents on stamps for a good cause. We’d put the last of the letters in the postbox on Monday, but that wasn’t what I was going to announce.
When Mrs. Ritter brought up the Celebrity Quilt, everyone stopped talking, except for Ceres, who didn’t hear very well. So I cleared my throat as loudly as I could, and she looked up and smiled and asked, “Yes, dear. Are you ready to roll?” That’s what we do when we finish the exposed part of the quilt. We roll, it over so we can work on the next
“I never saw a summer that promised so much in June and delivered so little in September,” Forest Ann said, cutting off Opalina, who was explaining that the ribbons that were lined up like sausages were for the members of one family that had been killed by a twister.
“It didn’t promise me a thing in June,” Nettie said. She was down-in-the mouth that day, maybe because of Velma. Forest Ann had told me that Velma had taken up with a combine salesman out of Coffeyville, which upset Nettie because he was a married man. She was afraid that Tyrone would find out, and I couldn’t blame her. Talk about catching “Hail, Columbia!” He’d thrash Velma within an inch of her life.
“Would you like to read, Queenie?” Opalina asked. The only book in Opalina’s house was the Bible, and I did not want to read Scripture. The last time I did, Opalina had me read the
begats
in Genesis.
“Oh, let’s not. Let’s just talk and tell Mrs. Judd when she gets here that we already read.”
“That would be a lie,” Nettie said.
I blushed and felt one of those horsehairs poke right into my back as punishment. “It’d be just a little fib,” I said, defending myself. If fibs were so bad, then I ought to tell Nettie that the goiter on her neck made her look like a frog.
“Queenie, why don’t you bring us up-to-date on the Celebrity Quilt,” Mrs. Ritter said. “We won’t wait for Septima and Ella.”
Mrs. Ritter always had a way of finding something enjoyable to talk about. The Celebrity Quilt was the reason I’d expected such a nice quilting that day. It was just about the most important thing that had ever happened to Persian Pickle, and I was the one who got to tell about it, because it had been my idea.
The Persian Pickle Club hadn’t been in any hurry to begin sewing on the Celebrity Quilt, of course. The longer that quilt took us, the more time we’d have before Reverend Olive came back to us with another project. Still, we’d started planning for it right away by making a list of people whose autographs we wanted to include—people such as Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, Ronald Colman, Babe Ruth, and Aimee Semple McPherson. When I put down Mae West as a joke, Nettie got so riled up that Mrs. Judd said, “Let her stay. It’s men that bid on these quilts, and men’ll pay more for Mae West than Sister Kenny.”
We asked Rita to write the letters to the celebrities because she was the writer in the group. She’s also the only one with a typewriter, but I know how to type, so I helped her. The two of us made a special trip to the library in Topeka to look up addresses of movie studios and radio stations and the White House. Then we went to lunch at the Hotel Jayhawk and paid fifty cents each for tuna-fish sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I had as much fun with her that day as I ever did with Ruby.
Nettie and Forest Ann cut out the squares of muslin for the people to autograph. Mrs. Judd bought the stamps to mail the letters, but she was against enclosing stamped return envelopes because she said celebrities were rich enough to spend three cents on stamps for a good cause. We’d put the last of the letters in the postbox on Monday, but that wasn’t what I was going to announce.
When Mrs. Ritter brought up the Celebrity Quilt, everyone stopped talking, except for Ceres, who didn’t hear very well. So I cleared my throat as loudly as I could, and she looked up and smiled and asked, “Yes, dear. Are you ready to roll?” That’s what we do when we finish the exposed part of the quilt. We roll, it over so we can work on the next
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