Missing Memories

by Carol Dean Jones

  “Hi girls,” they heard someone say and looked up to see Tessa heading for the table without her sling and looking bright and cheerful. “What a beautiful day,” she added as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “Where’s your sling?” Ruth asked with a frown.

  “I have it in my tote bag just in case I need it later, but I woke up this morning feeling just fine.

  “You’re sure it’s okay to have it off?”

  “The young man who put it on said I might not need it. He was just being cautious.”

  “Didn’t he tell you to go to the hospital?”

  “Again,” Tessa responded. “Caution. He had other folks to take care of, and he just wanted to make sure someone was going to check me out more thoroughly, but you know how it is. By our age,” she said looking at Ruth, “we know our bodies. I’m just fine. Now, what are we ordering?”

  Once breakfast was served, Sarah asked Tessa about her shop. “How did you get started?”

  “Well, let’s see. I’ll start from the beginning. About eight years ago, my husband and I bought the shop. He was older than I and was retired and wanted to work with me in the shop. Unfortunately, he died not long after we bought the shop…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sarah responded.

  Tessa smiled and nodded, but continued. “I sold our house and moved into the apartment above the shop.”

  “The apartment is cute,” Ruth interjected. “She has antique furniture and quilts everywhere: hanging on the walls, stacked by the fireplace. She even uses a quilt as a table cloth.”

  “You have a fireplace in your apartment above the shop?” Sarah asked with surprise. She’d been picturing a small downtown shop, and a fireplace seemed unlikely.

  “Yes, the shop is an end unit, and there’s a fireplace downstairs as well.”

  Ruth spoke up again. “She has a wing-back chair on either side of the fireplace in the shop where customers can sit and enjoy the warmth. It’s a lovely shop. We should take a field trip there some time – maybe our Friday night group would like to go too.”

  After breakfast, the three headed for the booth and removed the sheets they had spread over the merchandise. They were almost too busy the rest of the morning to even think about Tessa’s arm. In fact, they accidentally worked right through Sarah’s class.

  “Have you girls had a chance to see the show yet?” Tessa asked once things slowed down, and they had grabbed a quick lunch.

  “No,” they answered in unison, “but…”

  “Why don’t you two walk around now? Sarah’s already missed her class, and things have slowed down. Besides, I owe you something for being so patient with me yesterday.”

  Ruth started to object, but her friend stopped her and said, “Just go. Things will be fine here, and if there’s a problem, I’ll call you. Turn your phone on.”

  Moving a little faster than they would have liked, Sarah and Ruth managed to see most of the quilts and were able to stop at a few to examine them more closely. “This is not my favorite way to see a show,” Ruth had commented, “but I’ve snapped at least two dozen pictures so we can sit down when we get home and look in more detail.”

  “I have pictures too,” Sarah responded, “and Charles has a gadget for projecting them. We could take the quilt show to our Friday night group.”

  “Oh, that’s a fantastic idea.”

  Sarah looked at her watch and said, “It’s almost three. I think I’ll head back to the booth and see how Tessa’s doing. You need to walk around and see the vendors. I’m sure you know many of them.”

  “How thoughtful, Sarah. I’d love to do that, and I wanted to see Henrietta and her daughter. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

  “Take your time.”

  Ruth waved her away and decided to take a few more pictures to add to their collection before visiting the other vendors.

  An hour later, she came rushing back to the booth breathless with excitement and announced, “You won’t believe what I have.” Ruth reached into her bag and pulled out a small quilt covered with objects: a pocket with a stuffed animal, a zipper, colorful yarn, beads, and several decorative pieces like rick rack and buttons.

  “What is this?” Sarah asked, looking confused. “A child’s quilt?”

  “No,” Ruth responded excitedly. “It’s called a fidget quilt. It’s for people with Alzheimer’s, or actually any form of dementia. The vendor that makes them said that hers were designed by a geriatric nurse who wanted to offer her restless Alzheimer’s patients something to see and feel -- something to fiddle with.”

  “I love it,” Sarah responded as she pulled the little stuffed bear out of the pocket, and discovered it was secured by a string so it couldn’t be dropped or misplaced. “What an excellent idea.”

  “The vendor said they are becoming very popular and that quilters, in particular, are getting involved making them. Don’t you think our Friday night group would like to make them for our nursing home?”

  “I think they’d be as excited as I am,” Sarah responded. “These are incredible, and there are so many ideas…”

  “What’s going on?” Tessa had just finished with her customer and came to see what they were talking about. They showed her the quilt and explained how it was being used and she, too, wanted to get involved. “I’ve wanted to start up a quilting group at my shop,” Tessa said, “and this just might be the perfect way to get started.” She took a picture of the quilt and said she would put it in her next newsletter. “If I can get some of my customers to come into the shop to work on this, I just might be able to keep them for a regular group.”

  “That’s exactly how I got started,” Ruth responded. “I asked for help to make pillow cases for a local adolescent group home, and I still have three of those original volunteers in our group.”

  It was almost closing time, but a group of shoppers was heading for the booth, so the three friends turned away from the fidget quilt to help them. One of the women spotted the little quilt and asked about it, so Ruth went through her explanation again. She later told Sarah that the woman wanted to buy it for her mother, but Ruth sent her to the vendor who was selling them.

  “What time is tomorrow’s class?” Ruth asked as they were closing down for the day. “You’re not going to miss that one!”

  “It’s in the morning at ten o’clock. It’s a two-hour class on trapunto.”

  “Good,” Ruth responded. “That sounds like another good class to offer to my customers. I know two or three women who are eager to learn something new.”

  The show had been closed for ten minutes when Sarah saw a woman hurrying toward their booth. “Hi ladies,” she said, a bit out of breath. “I’m trying to catch everyone before they leave. The loudspeaker went on the blink this afternoon, so we’re trying to let everyone know…”

  “Is something wrong?” Ruth asked looking apprehensive.

  “Oh no. We just wanted everyone to know that we’re keeping the Alzheimer’s exhibit open from six to eight this evening for the staff and vendors. We’ll leave the side door unlocked, and you’ll see a sign which says ‘Staff Only.’ I hope to see you there,” she added excitedly as she hurried on to the next booth.

  “Let’s do it,” Sarah said, locking the cash box and sliding it into Ruth’s tote bag. “I peeked into the room earlier, and it looks fascinating. They are mostly wall hangings, and they were made by people with Alzheimer’s and by their caregivers.”

  “Wonderful. I had a chance to read the brochure you brought, but let’s go upstairs and freshen up first. We have another half-hour before they open the exhibit, and I want to call Anna and see how things are going at the shop.”

  “I’ll meet you gals down there later,” Tessa said as they were heading for the elevator. “I have a couple of phone calls to make too.”

  * * *

  When Sarah and Ruth entered the Alzheimer’s exhibit hall later that evening, they were met by total silence, although there were several dozen w
omen in the room. Sarah noticed one woman with tears running down her cheeks. Several were dabbing at their eyes. Without speaking, the two women stopped in front of a large poster that had been placed just inside the door. Sarah slipped on her reading glasses.

  This exhibit was conceived by a local quilt club which had been touched by Alzheimer’s. Over the past few years, two of their past members had been diagnosed with the disease, while others in the club were currently caring for family members with various forms of dementia. Thinking it would be therapeutic, the caregivers were encouraged to make small quilts as a way of expressing feelings they were reluctant to verbalize. When a local caregiver support group learned of the project, several of its members asked to participate as well.

  The success of the program lead to the idea that perhaps those suffering from dementia might also benefit from the exercise, and within a year five or six women who had been quilters in their past were included in the effort. Often, with the help of club members, they began speaking their forgotten words with fabric and thread.

  The resulting quilts were deeply touching. Some were bold and angular while others appeared as a mishmash of colors and design. Some seemed to speak of anger and loss while others seemed to express loneliness and fear. All caused a strong visceral reaction in the observer. All were deeply touching.

  As they were completed, the club began to display the quilts on the walls of the church basement where they met, and it ultimately became obvious these revealing works of art should be shared with others. The show entitled Silent Voices was first presented at City Hall for the city’s residents and has since been displayed in several local venues. We hope you enjoy the show. Please sign our guestbook and leave your comments as you leave.

  Sarah and Ruth stood silently for a moment understanding now why the room seemed to contain such emotion. They slowly walked around the room, stopping at each quilt and allowing themselves to feel what the artist must have been trying to say. Some using bright reds and oranges in sharp, exaggerated shapes seemed to be striking out with anger. Others with their muted shades and random shapes seemed to express sadness and confusion.

  One wall hanging which was made by a caregiver consisted of hour-glass blocks, some precisely lined up row by row and others scattered about in disarray.

  Most of the quilts were exhibited on the four walls of the room, but in the middle of the room, there was a tall frame displaying a bed quilt. The identification tag attached said it had been made by the members of the quilt club at the end of the project as a way of expressing their own emotions. Each had contributed one block, and there were no rules other than for size. Each block was fourteen inches square, and they were separated by sashing.

  One woman had divided her block in half, one side being very structured with half-square triangles in strong colors. The other side was done in muted shades of similar colors, but the placement of the pieces was undefined and scattered, somewhat like a crazy quilt. Another had covered a black background with appliqued tears.

  Sarah was particularly fascinated by one which had a small pieced house in the middle of the block, and it was surrounded by three or four thin borders. The final border was a red and yellow zig-zag pattern made of half-square triangles. She wondered about the message. To her, it seemed to reflect the quilter’s desire to protect her own home from the ravaging effects of Alzheimer’s. As with the rest of the exhibit, she realized the messages were very personal, and the observer would see their own interpretation.

  Sarah noticed that Ruth seemed to be lost in one particular wall hanging. It, too, was a crazy quilt pattern, but using only solid colors. It gave the impression of an Amish quilt, and Sarah wondered if it was reminding her friend of her own Amish background and the family who had been lost to her after she chose to marry outside the community.

  Tessa arrived as they were leaving the hall, and they agreed to meet in Ruth’s room at seven and go out to dinner.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Sarah and Tessa sat in the café, sipping coffee and planning their day while they waited for their breakfast. Ruth had gone out to the van to get the extra box of fat quarters she had brought just in case they ran low. She had asked Sarah to order her a short stack of pancakes and bacon. “I’m going to need the energy today,” she had said with a chuckle as she was leaving.

  The waitress returned shortly with their three meals, but Ruth had not yet returned. “I wonder what’s keeping her,” Tessa said as she looked toward the parking lot.

  “She probably ran into someone she knows,” Sarah responded as she dug into her omelet with gusto. “I’m not usually this hungry in the morning.”

  “It’s the fresh air blowing in over the lake,” Tessa responded, surreptitiously dunking her donut into her coffee cup. They had all three taken a brisk walk along the side of the lake before breakfast.

  By the time they had finished their meal and a second cup of coffee, Sarah was becoming concerned. Ruth still hadn’t returned. “I think we should check the parking lot,” she suggested.

  “Why don’t you do that, and I’ll run into the convention center and see if she’s at the booth,” Tessa responded.

  “That’s unlikely since she ordered breakfast, but take a look. I’ll have the waitress pack up her food and meet you there.”

  Sarah signed the check with her room number and headed for the parking lot.

  Ruth’s van appeared undisturbed, and when Sarah looked inside, she saw the box of fat quarters sitting on the back seat. She hasn’t even been here, Sarah thought. Realizing Ruth must have forgotten something and returned to the booth, Sarah hurried toward their booth, only to find Tessa standing there alone.

  “Where do you suppose she went?” Sarah said as she arrived at the booth.

  “They’re opening the doors to the public is ten minutes,” Tessa responded. “I’m sure she’ll be back by then.”

  But she wasn’t.

  A group of women who had come into the show together was heading toward Ruth’s booth. “Hi,” the woman in the lead called out before reaching them. Sarah immediately recognized her as one of Ruth’s customers. Several of the other women in the group looked familiar as well. “Where’s Ruth? We told her we’d be here bright and early.”

  “She had to step away, but I’m sure she’ll be right back,” Sarah responded. “Feel free to look around and let me know if you need any help.” Turning to Tessa, she quietly asked her to try Ruth’s cell phone.

  “I think I recognize you from the shop,” one of the women said to Sarah. “Don’t you teach classes?”

  “I do,” Sarah responded. “In fact, I’m getting ready to take the trapunto class and hope to be offering it to Ruth’s customers in the fall.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I wanted to sign up for that class, but we’re only here for a few hours, and I didn’t want to give up any show or vendor-shopping time. By the way, I’m Linda.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, Linda. I’m Sarah.” Looking past the woman for a moment, she saw Tessa closing her cell phone and shaking her head. She shrugged her shoulders, indicating that she got no answer.

  Two of the other women in the group were looking at Tessa’s kits, and the woman Sarah had been talking with was picking up a bolt which she laid on the cutting table. “Could I get two yards of this, please?”

  “Tessa, I’ll get this. You can help the women who are looking at your kits.”

  “Oh, these are yours?” one of the women said looking surprised. “I thought this was all Ruth’s merchandise.”

  “Most of it is,” Tessa explained. “I’m just here to help out, and Ruth said I could bring my kits. Here’s a picture of that quilt finished,” she added as she reached into her box under the table and pulled out a few pictures which she placed by the kits.

  “These are lovely. And everything I need is in the package?”

  “Everything except the back. You’ll need four yards for that one.”

  “Maybe I
should get it now. What do you think would look good with it?” Tessa quickly scanned across the bolts and reached for a tan and green paisley. Sarah saw Tessa grimace as she lifted the bolt, and she made a mental note to ask about her arm once the customers were gone.

  “This would look nice,” she offered, opening the kits and spreading the fabrics out for comparison.”

  “You have a good eye,” the woman responded. “That’s a perfect match. I’ll take four yards.”

  As the women were leaving, Tessa suddenly said, “Sarah! Your class. Ruth will be disappointed if you miss another one.”

  “But she isn’t back and…”

  “Just go. Remember, I run a shop, and I’m accustomed to having groups of quilters arrive all at once. I can handle it."

  “And your arm? You looked like you were in pain when you reached for that fabric earlier.”

  “It’s nothing. I probably just pulled something. I can always put the sling on, and customers will be sympathetic and help out with the lifting. For now, I’m fine. Go!”

  “If Ruth isn’t back by the time I return, we need to do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe see if the loudspeaker has been fixed and have her paged.”

  “Go to class. I’ll keep trying her cell phone, but I’m sure she’ll be here by the time you get back.”

  Two hours later as Sarah was leaving the classroom, she heard an announcement over the loudspeaker that stopped her dead in her tracks.

  “Ruth Weaver, please report to the Admissions Desk. Ruth Weaver. Report to the Admissions Desk.”

  Sarah hurried toward the booth wondering what had happened.

  As she approached, she saw a small crowd of security people milling around. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” Tessa said pleadingly as she left the booth to meet Sarah. “I just started getting scared. I talked to one of the security men, and he felt something should be done right away. I wanted to wait for you…”

  “No, Tessa. You did the right thing. I was just assuming she’d be here when I got back. What have they said to you?”