Stitching together memories
Stitching together memories
This week I’m working in Washington, staying in a hotel in Foggy Bottom, just at the edge of the George Washington University campus, and a short walk from Georgetown University. Once upon a time this neighborhood was home and from my window I can look across into the building where we lived.
On Sunday afternoon, as I rode the enormous escalator up to the ground level at the Foggy Bottom metro station, my mind began to wander back to the magical years I spent in here. Then, just as I exited the station, the sky darkened and there was a torrential downpour with the wind swirling around taking the rain in every direction. Minutes from the hotel, and with only a folding umbrella, I arrived at the hotel looking as if I had just jumped into a pool with my clothes on. I’m convinced it will take a week for my shoes to dry. It all seemed like a Grimm’s fairy tale.
Ned O’Gorman’s extensive archives are held at the Lauinger Library in the Booth Family Center for Special Collections at Georgetown University. As I have edited two books about Ned, I have been invited to curate an exhibition in the Rare Book Library that will open in October and remain on view through January 2018. Ned was a close friend and reading through his papers is traveling through an extraordinary life. A prison poem from Daniel Berrigan, a letter from Freya Stark admitting she is no longer writing, a musical score from Lucia Dlugoswski that was intended to be performed in celebration of Ned’s book of poetry entitled The Buzzard and the Peacock. As curator, I will stitch together these memories into a visual display.
It is, of course, important to live in the present and not to regret or long for the past or to have
unrealistic expectations for the future. In the words of Bonefish Joe, “every day is a gift.”
Notwithstanding, glancing back at a life, reading biography, helps us to put our own lives and the lives of others in historical context. Perhaps it is one of the reasons I love walking through antique shops.
Earlier this summer I spent most of a wet afternoon wandering through the Four Corners Brick House in Gilmanton. I could have spent the day. Linens reminiscent of when daily living was much more elegant. Antique furniture that would seem out of place in most contemporary homes, with their spare look. What I bought was a small basket filled with quilt squares. Each one is made from fabric that might have come from a dress or from curtains designed for tall windows in a formal living room. There were three notes among the pieces that read: these are “quilt blocks of my mother,” and “silk blocks were pieces of my grandmother’s wedding dress.” This “basket belonged to my grandmother and was given to me.”
The basket is a treasure as are the quilt pieces. I have arranged them in a pattern, thinking about how they can be used? Perhaps a pillow or stitched onto a Japanese yukata. They have the look and the feel of origami. My hope is that one day someone will find them again, perhaps on a dusty shelf in a consignment shop, wonder about their history, imagine a story and treasure them as I have. Once upon a time …