Denise recalled that when Lenie, an avid quilter, decided she wanted a barn quilt, she said to her reluctant husband, “John, I have never asked you for very much, but I want one of those on the barn.”
The third Western Ontario quilt trail recognizes a group who are often absent from our historical narratives. Mary Simpson informed me that we were going to visit the First Nations Trail, and at my perplexed look explained that the tribal groups we refer to as Native Americans are called First Nations in Canada. I had seen one or two quilt blocks elsewhere with Native American themes but never an entire quilt trail. With all of the thousands of individuals to whom quilt blocks paid homage, it seemed fitting that the Chippewa should have their story told in barn quilts as well.
Thames River
Denise said, “I was embarrassed that I didn’t know about my neighbors. We learn about the Dutch and the Belgians who immigrated but nothing about the First Nations. Why didn’t I learn about them?” After talking with some of the women of the nearby First Nation communities and inviting them to participate, it became apparent that their experiences comprised a completely different story. Denise described the interaction between cultures: “We are like canoes paddling down the stream, each in their own canoe.”
Chippewa Nation member and quilter Alfreda Henry gathered thirteen quilters who designed thirty-one blocks that reflect the traditions and lives of the First Nation families during the nineteenth century. The cloth quilt was completed first, and the Chippewa Nation women called it the Trail of Tears Quilt because of the sadness present throughout many of the stories.
Several Chippewa Nation families worked together to paint the quilt blocks on the wooden panels and mount them on buildings and posts. The first was a tribute to Tecumseh, the Shawnee leader during the War of 1812 who was known for his ability to unite warriors from many nations to defend their way of life. The quilt block went up on the 19th anniversary of Tecumseh’s death, October 5, 2012.
Freda Henry and her friend Maxine Hendrick joined us for the afternoon. Maxine had been instrumental in helping convince members of various tribes to join in the quilt trail effort. From the backseat of the vehicle, the two women shared their stories and guided Mary as she drove along the trail. We visited the Munsee Delaware Nation Tribal Administration building, where the Thames River Canoe block hangs. The block depicts a lone woman in a canoe, her paddle deep in the water displaying the physical strength that represents women’s abilities.
A great deal of the conversation focused on the native women’s lives and the ways in which the dominant culture attempted to teach them new ways. Maxine said, “They tried to take our language but they could not. They tried to assimilate us, but we still speak our language.” The women did not seem bitter but did seem to believe that the story was one that needed to be told and remembered. Maxine explained that some of their English lessons consisted of songs, which they learned in their native language and then in English. She sang a song whose nasal-toned words we could not understand and then repeated the tune, this time in English: “Me and my teddy bear, have no worry have no care. Me and my teddy bear, playing all the day.” I was reminded of high school German lessons that had employed the same method.
The trail includes symbols commonly associated with native culture, such as Bow and Arrow, Wigwam, and Peace Pipe. Others evoke natural elements, such as the Turtle, who plays a role in many native myths; Fire, which in native tradition lies at the heart of all creation; and Grandmother Moon, who ensures the rhythms of Earth and nature. Scorched Earth, an original design created by quilter Shirley Baker, stands for the struggles of women to navigate forests from one camp to another after their trails and gathering grounds were burned.
Scorched Earth
Denise said, “The Americans think they won the war, and the British know they won, but for sure the Indians lost. Indians saved the day but they get no credit.”
Our time in Western Ontario ended with a social tea in Melbourne. Women in elaborate Victorian costumes served tea and cookies on elegant china, while those gathered had a chance to view the three cloth quilts that showcase the blocks in the Western Ontario quilt trails. Glen and I met a young woman named Christina who, with her service dog Charlie, had traveled all three of the quilt trails by scooter, taking about a year and a half to see all of the blocks. Christina was such an enthusiastic adventurer, and as she related her stories of stopping to speak with farmers, getting lost and asking strangers for directions, determined to find her way alone, I was reminded of my solo travels along the quilt trail in years past.
Glen and I made our way east and stopped for a couple of days in Niagara Falls before crossing into New York. An icy cold dousing aboard the Maid of the Mist at the base of the falls made for an energizing break from work for both of us. Wearing wide smiles and Smurf-blue raincoats, Glen and I celebrated the anniversary of our first date. It had been an exceptional year.
new york
I HAD BEEN in contact with Lynne Belluscio several times and we had developed a long-distance rapport. On hearing of our mishap, she immediately opened her home to Glen, Gracie, and me. Once again the generosity of spirit that underlies the quilt trail was manifested in welcoming hospitality. Lynne is director of the LeRoy Historical Society, just east of Buffalo, New York, and headed up the barn quilt trail there. I was eager to see what they had accomplished. Lynne is also the curator of the Jell-O museum, and we looked forward to adding a quirky stop to our itinerary.
We arrived at Lynne’s home where we were greeted by Lynne’s Whig Rose barn quilt and an unlocked front door, with a note on the table telling us that Lynne would be back soon. A heavy wooden door in the kitchen led to a one-room log cabin adjoining the house, our headquarters for a couple of days. Glen and I were glad to have our own space, especially since Gracie does not care for other dogs. She is sweet towards humans but seems to think that smallish dogs like Lynne’s two Shelties just might be good for a snack.
The next day, Glen and Gracie began their day in the cabin, while Lynne and I hit the road. The first thing I asked was how to spell and pronounce the name of the town. She replied that as far as the pronunciation goes, it depends on who you ask whether it is LEEroy or LeROI, and it might be one word or two. But, “It’s got to be a capital R.”
The quilt trail was begun in the fall of 2011 in anticipation of the town’s bicentennial, with a goal of twenty-five barn quilts by the June 2012 celebration. Lynne knew she needed key people to get involved, and Shelley Stein was at the top of her list. Shelley had been town supervisor, and her family also owns one of the largest dairy farms in town. Lynne said, “She understands agritourism and pride in family farms.” In one person, Lynne had both of the ingredients that, combined, were key to success.
Monkey Wrench (Churn Dash)
Lynne and I stopped off to see one of the Stein barns, and I was dismayed that it was a modern building that lacked the character of a classic barn. “Some say that it’s an ugly barn,” Lynne said, “but it’s a working farm. I know on some trails they limit it to barns that are a certain number of years old, but we wanted to showcase agriculture in our town.” The philosophy certainly made sense. Lynne went on to explain that the Churn Dash barn quilt occupied the space where a Stein Farms sign once hung. Obviously, these folks were staunch supporters of the quilt trail. The yellow and green in the pattern stand for the green alfalfa fields and yellow corn, with black and white for Holstein cows. We both liked the choice of Churn Dash as it might also represent dairy farming, and when we met Shelley, I was delighted to find that there was a connection to a family quilt as well.
Shelley