After I bought a new book today, I turned to page 25 and inscribed my name, just as my mother had always done. Her fine, graceful strokes wrote out my whole name, long, taking up half the page. My handwriting has become rough and clumsy since my right arm was shattered and most times I shorten to initials.
Long ago, I'd come home from school and check the mailbox for the package from the book-a-month club, anxious for a new story and a new page to be autographed. Mother’s evenings were spent sewing or knitting so I would read aloud, shifting my voice to fit each character, lifting and falling with emotion and circumstance. I’d pause as I reached page 25, dragging a finger across the lovely blue letters, newly penned, spread like ivy near the binding of the page. My name looked magnificent, a tangible symbol of my mother’s pride. In the beginning it fell toward the back of the book but soon page 25 came early as my preference grew for thick books, full of descriptions and characters and far away places. Our lonely apartment could come alive with reference and imagination and mother and I would drift away, planning our own adventures.
We traveled, when I was grown, through Louis Lamour’s west and on Jack Kerouac’s highways, on rivers and oceans, hearing foreign tongues, matching stories and characters to places and people along our way.
I read silently now but I still write my name on page 25.
I finished Chase's quilt and took it to his birthday celebration. He was, of course, excited about cake, ice cream and about a million new Lego pieces from the Lego store and an awesome Transformers chess set!
een named "Ariana". I made it for Tim & Doreen's daughter Corey who is expecting their first grandchild. The photo doesn't show it well, but there are little red hearts quilted into the white squares. I hope she likes it!
criss-crossed the nine patch squares. 
Tonight I am enjoying a quiet evening at the historic Boone Tavern Hotel in Berea, Kentucky. My friend Carol and I came down a night early to attend a Saturday morning workshop. Jason Howard, an author and musician I met at last Spring's Gathering of Writers at Greenbo Lake in Kentucky is presenting a Memoir Workshop at the Loyal Jones Center on the college campus. We drove down in late afternoon, had a pleasant dinner at a local coffee shop and then walked around the shops near our hotel. My favorite was simply called The Quilt Shop. The walls were covered with amazing handmade quilts and bolts of fabric decorated the back of the shop. I bought a few colorful pieces and we chatted with the owner for a few minutes. The quilts were quite pricey - $700 to $1000 each but having quilted two this summer, I know that the price is very fair considering the number of hours that go into each.
