Blankets

Tuesday night it was finally cool enough to pull the covers up over my shoulders. Just before drifting off to sleep my memory flashed back to a blanket that my father bought for me when I was very little. He bought it at the Army surplus store. It was olive green, heavy, scratchy, and smelled of wet wool. I loved that old thing. In fact, when it got worn and torn, Dad and I put it between two other light blankets and he made yarn stitches every few inches that we tied in knots. I don’t know what you call them because I don’t quilt, but I do know that I ended up with a very heavy comforter with rows of colorful yarn knots. And I still remember crawling on the floor to tie them!

My children all had special blankets. Karen’s was a crocheted afghan with pretty colored squares. She hated for me to wash it! I took a photo of her standing under the clothes line holding one corner of it. She was actually waiting for it to dry. Katrina will probably explain the “middle child syndrome” to me again, but I can’t remember her blanket- only that she had one. I think it was white. Robert’s was yellow and had a satin edge. I remember keeping the satin edge for a while. That was about all that was left of his!

My grandmother had a special “blanket”. It was a chenille bedspread with huge peacocks on it. I could stare at that thing for hours. And I loved the feel of the chenille bumps. Her mother had a bedspread with huge flowers on it. I think it was what we called “polished cotton”.

My mother loved quilts and blankets and bedspreads. As she got older she changed her bed often to suit her mood. Most of the spreads had flowers on them and most of her blankets were very soft. I think she was trying to make up for all the years of scratchy olive wool ones.

Grandmother made a special quilt for my Aunt Betty. I think I’ve mentioned it before. I was so jealous of that quilt. It was made from satin and velvet scraps. I don’t know where Gran got all of them, but it was a wondrous thing to behold!

I remember getting in trouble for eating quilt batting when I was a child. Mom would put us down for a nap and I would find a little hole somewhere in my quilt and take little pieces of the cotton out. I probably have brain damage from eating it! LOL  It had a strange metallic taste that I liked. ‘Course I also remember eating dirt, so my taste buds couldn’t have been too discriminating.

My best friend, Elaine, had the first matching bedspread and curtains that I ever remember seeing. She also had matching sheets, something unknown in our family. I thought her bedroom looked like a movie star’s.

We have a special blanket now- it’s called “electric”. My husband loves it! I’m not fond of it. I prefer lots of blankets and quilts that can be layered or taken off as needed. I always have hot feet and have one sticking out from under the covers. But in the deepest cold of winter the electric blanket is okay, too.

I remember a lot of blankets from my childhood. Funny how that one thing stayed with me. But despite our poverty and transient circumstances I can’t ever remember being cold or hungry. I sometimes wished for other things. I dreamed of owning a satin bedspread or drinking milk for dinner. But I don’t remember ever shivering or suffering except while we were in the fields. Once we were home, we were safe and warm and full. My covering might have been an Army surplus blanket, and my dinner beans and fried potatoes, but the security of both was genuine and lasting.

Comments

[Katrina]

I'm sure my blanket was a hand-me-down from Karen. Life is never fair for middle children.

::grin::