Monday, Memorial Day, so many memories of growing up.. We would all go to the local parade and occasionally we would be in the parade (our scout troop, baton twirling, riding a fire truck). We would visit the cemetery, have hot dogs (who knew how bad they were for us), go to the lake and try to swim in freezing water.. Naive about the world for sure. Now we all know too much or maybe still not enough. May adopted dad never talked to us about wwII.. until he was old and gray.. As children did we know about him being on a sinking ship in the South Pacific.. Throwing buddies off into the sea of darkness lite up by incoming terror. No he carried that in his heart with him.. Going to work everyday, support his family and wanting only the best for all of his children..protecting his wife always. He was thrilled when I went in the Air Force as a nurse.. My mom worried as always.. So today Dad I salute you.. your bravery, your courage and your dedication to family and country... And I have no scanned pictures of you.. Maybe better to remain a memory..

The work of today.. 12 little cards to exchange .. They were fun to make and used up a very little bite of my stash..

Fans? clam shells.. maybe they are fans.. I'm in love with this ..

This is a quilt I finish a couple of days ago.. This was the technique I used to machine quilt it on my Pfaff 2927. This machine has been in my possession for 5 years as best I can remember. It has been a work horse. I should figure out how many quilts I have pushed though this machine. It has had a couple of major repairs. But she keeps on sewing. Most sewing machines are like that.. I have my original singer from back in the days. I inherited it from my aunt. She gave it to me just before she passed. I was a shattered 12 year old at the time. She was my protector, and comforter to a very scared and lonely little girl.. Aunt Lola..She was kind, supportive and encouraged me to stay in school.. Although where else would I have been but in school.. School was a refuge from the torment of alcoholism at my biological family home. Duck they are throwing dishes.. hitting each other , screaming.. And today as an old lady.. I now know that there are lots of children out there even today living in the same situation or similar of alcoholic or drug crazy.
Do these parents even consider the lives of their children. Are they really so self absorbed that they do not see the inner terror of their dear sweet children.. And yes that is what they pass on to their child.. I am one of the lucky ones to have experienced love and care from aunts, grandparents and adoptive parents. Who all licked my wounds to the point of healing and survival.. Now when I see my children reach for alcohol for comfort.. I tremble. I fear for them. And I am powerless to stop it or change it.. I guess we do not learn from our parent's past. More quilting tomorrow...