Table of Contents I Have This to Say about That Dear Reader I Can’t See You, Can You See Me? Through a Glass Darkly So Many Quilts so Little Time The Mystery Quilt What is Poverty The Poor are Always with Us Introducing Mnemonics You Will Remember On the Way Out

I Have This to Say about That Dear Reader

Dear reader,
Life often has curious twists of fate that when first encountered, leave us angry and hurt, but when we look back on our change of direction, we often find reason for thankfulness. Such was the case with losing my job of three years last February. I had worked as a seamstress, making and repairing draperies, and had become quite proficient at it. However, most of the drapes I made were claims, replacements for damaged drapes that had somehow been ruined in the cleaning process. This caused a lack of profit for my department and the elimination of my position. As I looked for a new position, it became apparent that if I wanted better pay, I would need to learn greater computer skills and become certified at something. After two interviews and several weeks of searching help wanted ads and on-line job offerings that didn’t meet my needs as pertained to location and payment conditions, the choice to attend college was immediately made. It is my plan and goal to become a medical assistant.

When it has been thirty-six years beyond high school, with only some military training and a tech school in between, returning to school can be quite challenging. I quickly discovered that even though writing can be tedious and frustrating at times I still rather enjoyed it.The frustration comes from thinking that you’ve cleaned up a piece just right only to find someone with a question that compels you to change wording or add some more information and the tedium from attempting to get punctuation exactly right.

One of the wonderful things about writing is that you can speak your mind without anyone butting in, taking over the conversation and addressing their agenda. English 98 has challenged me to think deeper and broader and has sharpened my writing skills. My previous writings have been fairly strong in things like descriptions, but occasionally have gotten off the main track into a side story. I now am aware of that weakness and am more watchful for it. My hope is that by reading my works, you will be encouraged to put pen to paper and discover the joy of writing for yourself.

I Can See Clearly Now

It is an age old condition of humanity that persons we meet are often instantly judged for their appearance, and they are valued not for who they really are , but for how they fit into our narrow spectrum of what is considered normal behavior and acceptable grooming and attire. The following story, "Through a Glass Darkly", is about one of those odd individuals whom I avoided at first, but who eventually wove his way into my heart and became a character I will never forget. "Through a Glass Darkly" was the first major writing assignment (MWA) of the quarter and the one I spent the most time revising. I had a tendency to drift into a side story which I eventually overcame . In a story of this type, I attempt to take the reader there. A comparison and contrast essay, it was chosen for the descriptions that accomplished this such as: “…when sputum collected in his mouth, he’d get out of his seat and stagger forward, jostling to and fro …spit hack and spit some more…wiping his mouth with his hand he’d return to his seat…”

Through A Glass Darkly

Through a Glass Darkly

He was obnoxiously loud, dirty, and smelling of rank tobacco. Coughing, and
hacking he made his way to the seat just behind me. I cringed, wondering what virus I
might catch from this disgusting lump of humanity. George, it seemed, was the epitome
of poor hygiene. My first impression of George was a lasting one, albeit a narrow
uneducated assumption, and a sharp contrast to my final impression.
The winter of 2004 was my fourth season working at Stevens Pass. Rather than
drive the seventy miles from my home to the pass, I would board the pass crew bus at
the Mountain View Chevron in Sultan . George, a new Stevens Pass employee, also rode
the crew bus along with forty or so other passengers picked up at various stops between
Sultan and Skykomish.
George was a thin little man who stood no higher than my shoulder (I’m 5’1”)
and it seemed that all of his clothes were four sizes too big. Because he had no teeth on
his upper jaw, and thinning hair, George looked older than his years. What hair he did
have was matted and had lost its luster, making it appear as though it hadn’t been washed
in months.
The strongest cologne could not have masked the odor that assaulted one’s nose
each time he came near. George was a chain smoker, and he carried not only the putrid
stench of the cigarette he’d just rolled and smoked, but also that of a body trying
desperately to rid itself of toxins.
Worst of all George had a continual cough. He never used a handkerchief or
tissue, and when sputum collected in his mouth, he’d get out of his seat and stagger
forward, jostling to and fro as the bus bounced along. Upon reaching the front, he would
spit, hack, and spit some more into the waste receptacle. Wiping his mouth with his
hand, he’d return to his seat from which the process would be repeated three or four
more times during the hour long ride.
Working at Stevens Pass was like being back in high school. There was the little
romances and breakups, quarrels between workers and bosses, and constant gossip. The
evening ride on the crew bus was like being in a news room. Nearly every one of the
fifty seven departments at the pass were represented by bus passengers. Each day there
was sharing of how the day went, difficult customers encountered, and juicy information
heard. It was there I learned something about George I hadn’t known before.
Filtering through the every other word expletives of the lift operators who sat at
the rear of the bus and the aches and pains of the menopausal women who sat at the
front, a bit of conversation concerning George caught my attention one evening. While
several employees showed an open distaste for George, just as many if not more, seemed
to like him. Two such young men were discussing how earlier in the day, George
had passed out and been taken by ambulance to the hospital. Not wanting to eavesdrop
but also curious, I continued to listen enough to hear a most startling revelation. George
was ill, so ill, that he was fighting a battle he could not win. George had liver cancer!
Shocking news like that causes a person to do some self- examination in how they
related to the sick person. I was horrified, and completely ashamed of the opinion I had
held, that George was someone to be avoided and of little more value than the trash in the
wastebasket he used as his spittoon. I, who called myself a Christian, had foolishly and
completely been blinded to the truth. As Paul the Apostle writes in 1Corinthians
13:12and 13, I was seeing, “thru a glass darkly” a dim reflection of who and what George
really was. I realized that like Dr. Seuss’s Grinch, my heart had been “two sizes too
small.” Here was an individual who needed compassion, strength, and encouragement,
and I decided to make closer observation and get truly acquainted with him.

I had thought George to be pushy and rude as it seemed he generally had to be the first one off the bus in the morning. Actually, he was a dedicated worker excited to be about the business of the day. I would see him taking the trash out and trucking boxes of food from the basement coolers to the kitchens on the second floor of the Cascade Kitchen Restaurant as if it were the most important job on the mountain.
Inside the grumpy man I had seen was a lively sense of humor. While riding the
elevator one morning, George told of an experience hitch hiking to the bus stop on
Christmas morning. His facial expressions and coarse retort he wished to have given
those who passed him by sent those present into peals of laughter.
George also had a child-like faith. One evening on the trip down the mountain,
George was seated across from me on the overcrowded cutaway bus. His conversation
centered on his recent doctor visit and the pain he’d endured that day. He brightened
at my promise to pray for him, and flooded me with questions about church, Jesus and
remarked that our conversation was like a mini church service.
Spring soon arrived and with it the lay off of part-time workers, including George.
Since I no longer saw George on the bus, I would drop by his tiny apartment on my way
home. George was a very gracious host, offering me a drink of water and kindly
putting his cigarette out and opening the door for fresh air. On one such occasion, I
presented him with an Easter card. One would have thought it contained a hundred dollar
bill he was so thrilled to receive it, so much so that he planted a kiss on my cheek.
I gave George a ride to the company end-of-season, party the Monday following
Easter weekend. Everyone was glad to see him again, and he was delighted to win a door
prize, a pair of ski goggles and six pack of Red Bull. Close to the end of activities,
George let me know that he was ready to leave. I tarried a bit too long watching a pond
skimming contest, and when I arrived at the car found George, independent as ever, on
the opposite side of the highway preparing to hitchhike down the mountain. That
was the last time I saw George. He went to his rest early in June and it was my privilege
to sing at his funeral that was attended by only two guests, his brother and a nurse who’d
been involved with his care at the Valley General Hospital emergency room.
Pastor Mike Maldonado who had officiated at George’s funeral and was also my
pastor, described in a sermon the following Sabbath, an individual who died alone, an
ordinary person without any great achievements or impact on society. I knew instantly
he was referring to George.
With tears streaming down my face, I muttered, “Oh yes he did!” George had an
impact on my life and changed forever how I look at and value another person. Some-
one who I had once thought repulsive, I now remembered as kind, appreciative, funny,
and independent, having the same fears, dreams, joys and sorrows as anyone else.
Because I dared to reach beyond myself and get to know George, finally realizing
that the outward packaging of a person is not who they really are, I now am reminded
that a first impression is just that, but a last impression is what is truly important.

So Many Quilts, So Little Time

Quilting is my passion, an art form that is both productive and at times theraputic. In the past year I was asked to assist my sister-in-law, Karen Wesslen, in the cutting of pieces for a quilt featuring sail boats. It was a fairly challenging design for a novice quilter and in addition, some of the instructions concerning the amounts of fabric to purchase were wrong. Then a couple of months later, while searching through the library for a new quilt book to enjoy, I came across a pattern in Lynette Jensen's book, " Thimbleberries for Weekend Quilters", that would have been a better first project for Karen. Not wanting to see her become discouraged with quilting, I decided to invite her to complete a small quilt with me by mail. The following story describes that process. "The Mystery Quilt" is a defination essay and was the second major writing assignment. It was chosen for strength of sentence structure and use of parallism such as, "Still, every quilt contains a bit of mystery entwined in the reason for making it, in the choosing of fabrics in muted tones or bright colors, and in the choosing of a pattern from a vast array of block designs with names like Underground Railroad, Broken Dishes or Lost Ships." Perhaps you will be inspired to quilt after reading this selection.

The Mystery Quilt

The Mystery Quilt

For centuries women have been cutting small pieces of good fabric from worn out clothing and sewing them together, transforming them into a story book of love in the form of a quilt. Today quilting has become an art form and gourmet quilters are very selective, choosing new and sometimes pricey fabrics. Still, every quilt contains a bit of mystery entwined in the reason for making it, in the choosing of fabrics in muted tones or bright colors, and in the choosing of a pattern from a vast array of block designs with names like Underground Railroad, Broken Dishes or Lost Ships. Aside from adding new fabrics to her stash, there is nothing a seasoned quilter enjoys more than sharing her craft with a novice quilter. The making of a mystery quilt is a fun way to accomplish this goal.

A mystery quilt is one in which the finished design is known only to the person initiating the project, while the person doing the actual sewing, can only guess at the outcome. A mystery quilt is often a project between two friends, one with a desire to teach and share, and another with a willingness to learn. The teacher chooses a pattern compatible with the skill level of the person the project is being shared with, and selects fabrics appropriate to the design.

The mystery begins with the student receiving an unexpected package in the mail containing an invitation to make a quilt, instructions for making a single set of blocks and the fabrics needed to complete them. The student must then decide if they are up to such an undertaking.

The purpose of a mystery quilt is to give the novice quilter practice, and awareness of techniques which make construction easier. Small wall hangings or table runners with no more than four block designs make good mystery quilt projects, allowing completion in a short amount of time.

Upon completion of the first set of blocks, the novice quilter notifies the sender that they are ready for the next installment. This process works quite well until the exuberance and curiosity of the quilting partner causes the sender to scramble to keep pace, especially if the sender is making a duplicate of the quilt at the same time.

With the completion of block assembly, instructions for layout of the blocks are sent to the novice quilter along with suggestions for borders surrounding the quilt top as a whole. With the completion of the quilt top, the novice quilter may now choose the batting, backing fabric, and binding for their quilt. The next step is to baste the three layers of the quilt (top, batting, and backing) together, followed by hand or machine stitching, or hand tying. The final step is to attach the binding, a folded strip of fabric that encases the raw edges of the quilt. Upon final completion, the quilting partner may want to send a photo of the finished quilt to the sender.

As with any quilting project, the rules can change with the genius of the quilters involved. An alternative method of mystery quilting that allows the sharing of the project with more than two participants, is for the sender to give a set of different block instructions to each participant with a completion due date. When each participant has notified the sender of completion, the sender then organizes a quilting bee where all come together to organize the layout and join the blocks. This team concept is enjoyable when making a surprise wedding quilt for one of the participants who are unaware of the fact that they are working on something for themselves. It is also a fun way of sharing a charitable donation project.

A mystery quilt is more than colorful pieces of fabric in a fascinating design. It is also a process, a joining of creative minds. The true mystery of a mystery quilt is the way it bonds those participating in friendship and creates a lasting memory that will be cherished for generations.

Glossary of Quilting Terms

Backing
______ The bottom layer of a finished quilt.
Batting
______A soft filling between the patchwork top and the backing.
Binding_
_____ A narrow strip of folded fabric that covers the raw edges of a quilt after it is quilted (stitched)
Block
________Small pieces of fabric squares and or triangles sewn together resulting in a large square.
Block Set
_____ A group of blocks bearing the same design
Quilt Top
_____The upper layer of a quilt sandwich, it can be patchwork, appliquéd or whole cloth.
Quilting designs are marked for stitching on the top.
Sashing
_______ Strips of fabric sewn between blocks or used as borders around the entire quilt top.

What is Poverty?

Poverty can be described in many ways depending upon our station in life. To some teens poverty might be the lack of gas money for the car or having to buy less expensive copies of name brand shoes like Air Jordans. To newlyweds it might mean shopping for furniture at thrift stores like Value Village or The Salvation Army. However, the best description of real poverty was that of Jo Goodwin Parker, in her essay "What is Poverty". In preparation for the writing of our second major writing assignment, we were to read the essay, write a summary of the piece and a reflection on it. This summary was chosen for its demonstration of analytical writing/thinking as seen in, "For this reason, constant review of policies is needed to achieve optimum use of welfare funds and programs."