Thank you Manusco! I’m sure they weren’t aware that selecting Edison, New Jersey as the new venue for the NJ Quilt fest, would bestow upon me a priceless gift. In addition, I am quite certain they had no idea that they would have my professional and personal lives joining paths for the weekend.
So, believe it or not I actually grew up in the town of Plainfield which is right next to Edison, in fact my high school was in Edison. Good Ole “Evergreen School” (my elementary school) I remember it felt overwhelming walking the halls as a young student. Now the aged brick building appears so small. Ah those early school days..
Yes, rings were exchanged and vows were made. Unfortunately when I recently witnessed the establishment it was evident that the church had aged over time. It no longer evoked an establishment that housed an assembly of participating parishioners. Instead its lack of visitors was evident by the hollow, unkept, grounds and vacant parking lot.
My Days Intertwined:
Class was, of course, in session throughout the weekend. And my students were incredible as always. I couldn’t believe that one of my students actually went home and redid her “in class” project. A shout-out to Valeria for doing an amazing job!
My timing couldn’t be have been more on point. The weekend I was in town also happened to be the life celebration of a dear friend of mine who had passed last year. Perhaps you recall my post last year that spoke of Paul. He was a second brother to me and his presence is missed daily. Paul is one of those rare individuals that we may have lost but will never forget. My older brother had a “gang”, okay let’s revise that a little. My brother was part of six, very close friends, who spent a lot of quantity and quality time together. Most of them knew me since the time I wore diapers. Thankfully I don’t remember such early introductions, bottom line, they were all an extended part of our family. When Paul lost his battle with cancer in 2017, it was an enormous loss to me. I wasn’t sure how to deal and process the grief that I was experiencing. In a shocker, quilting became my therapy. It was my means of getting through such devastation. My mind and hands went to work constructing a special piece for my brother in honor of Paul. Ironically the binding was completed during the Quilt Fest and I delivered this little memento at his party later that weekend.
Life has a way of placing us where we need to be at exactly the right time. Although none of us will be able to close the missing piece that Paul has placed in our hearts, we will forever relive our lives with him strolling, together, down “Memory Lane”.