Remnants of the chaotic period of the Dark Ages were present in the Middle Ages. The bloodthirsty warriors of the universal wars were now barbaric tribes who roamed the land to plunder all that they had the notion to invade. It was as though they had a need to fight and destroy in order to survive. For certain, mankind needs food for survival. The need for food and the need of protection from bands of destructive murders brought feudalism into being. During the Middle Ages the feudal system reigned in many regions, including the area of today’s Netherlands, the homeland of our Van Egmond ancestors. Some held the title of lord, duke, or count. Others held lessor title or placement in the pyramid of social existence. From the time period of the Middle Ages and forward, many of our ancestors worked the soil, planted, tended and harvested the investment of their labor. If yields were good, plenty was at hand for the family. When the yield of harvest was lean, they made do with what they had. Through times of plenty and times of lean, they took care of themselves, shared when they were able, and loved one another. The love that my Grandpa Leither Edgmon had for his family and neighbors, a good rule for all humans to follow, is to be admired and cherished. I will always admire him and I do cherish all time spent with him and the memories that he gave me. His ability to convey the recollections of folks and happenings of the past, in a warm hearted factual manner, is ever present in my mind. Visions of him packing tobacco into the bowl of one of his many pipes, bring back the anticipation of his renditions that would unfold as the smoke would curl above his head. Often he whistled a hearty tune as he worked and talked of dear folks or would be heard singing an old hymn with eyes full of tears when memories of lost loved ones lay heavy on his heart. From the time that he first courted Daisy on the front porch of her ma and pa’s place at Swain, she remained with him. Sharing together the love, joy, heartache, sorrow, loss and gain that life put before them. How fortunate I have been to have my life imprinted by all that they conveyed through their belief and action. Another rule that they followed through life, for it was what had to be, was hard work and frugal ways. The ability to quote scripture and to teach right from wrong was also their way. Respect for your fellow man, being a good neighbor, and honor of your country was something expected of all folks living right. Every vote that grandpa cast was for a Democrat. Grandma was Republican. Grandpa voted every time an election was at hand. Even when his driving skills were impaired, he managed to map out a route that would get him safely to the polls. In 1972 he was legally blind and was allowed to take someone into the voting booth to help him vote. My husband was a young single guy of seventeen as he stood behind the curtain of the voting booth with grandpa. Mike was in the process of reading off the names and parties of those running in the election, he recalls what grandpa said to him…“Pull (the lever for) every damn Democrat on there.” And that is what Mike did. He enjoys hearing the argument from folks who say he could not have voted at age seventeen, but he did for grandpa. Guess grandpa taught him well; he also votes a straight Democratic ticket…three things a man should be: a Christian, a union member, and a Democrat… Grandma would spend the evenings quilting as much as she could before the light dimmed or as long as her threaded needles would hold out. After super I would help grandma lower her quilting frame that swung from the ceiling. And would thread as many needles as she had with long, long strands of thread. It was hard for her to see to thread her needles, but her many stitches looked just fine. I have spent many hours watching her pass the needle from top to bottom as she quilted away. I stayed close by to help her roll ‘the work in progress’ when she could no longer reach into an open area to quilt. Sometimes she quilted in straight rows, but usually in a fan shape repeated across the top. When the needles were empty we rolled the quilt top to make ready for the next day of quilting and then returned the frame and top to its place at the ceiling. Grandma was short, grandpa over six foot. Many times I’ve heard him holler out when he bumped his head as he tried to walk into the room. He would then give a quick turn or two to the corners of the quilting frame, placing it up higher toward the ceiling, making it easier for him to safely walk into the room. Grandma pieced many quilt tops, some of intricate patterns and pretty cloth. But often they were pieced from remnants. The tiniest scrapes of material were fit together as best she could. All were beautiful in my eyes and all warm on cold nights. So here I layout the remnants, plenty and lean, fit together as best I can. The gleanings of my research are gathered here, not to compare to a quilt of museum or heirloom quality, but more akin to the many string quilts made by grandma, made from small pieces of material gathered over time. Or perhaps even as a crazy quilt, going in all directions. As the true purpose of a quilt is to keep a body warm, this material also has a purpose. Not to be assumed that it is a complete and errorless work, but only a format, presenting what I have been able to piece together from what I have compiled on our kin as their presence here on earth fanned out over time. Family research is never complete. It is always a ‘work in progress’. When a top is pieced, it is not yet a quilt. Segments of information about our ancestors spill over from one generation to the next, becoming like remnants ready to be pieced together. When piecing a quilt top it was important to keep the work in square. I have made effort to factually represent material. No intentional errors or omissions have been made. Please be forgiving of any mistakes that you may find.
                                                                                                                                                        Take Care, Judy Tate

Copyright © 1997

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