family – Sandy Gilreath

The Camera Museum

My GrandDaddy Youngblood was a big part of my earliest years. I was three years old when he moved away from Georgia, but I do have memories of him, visiting his photography studio, and enjoying his visits to our house. There were letters, phone calls, and visits over the years, but his presence in my life was always associated with photographs.

A photo GrandDaddy made of me on an important day in my life.

In recent years, since I’ve become interested in photography and have read about photographers like Walker Evans and Dorothea Lange who were contemporaries of my GrandDaddy I’ve been curious about what cameras he used. Well, now I’ve seen some of them!

GrandDaddy in the doorway of his studio in Ashburn, GA.

Jim and I visited the camera museum in McDonough, Ga. You’d think that with Jim’s interest in photography, we would have been regulars. Jim did know about the place and had planned to go, but the impetus that got us out the door and on the way was learning that my GrandDaddy Youngblood’s cameras were there!

This building was first a church, then used as a municipal building complete with courtroom, and now houses workspace for the Image Doctor and the Camera Museum.

Yes, there is a display with information about my grandfather and his son and their photography! When we learned that some of GrandDaddy’s cameras had been donated, Jim and I were anxious to see them! When we arrived, and told them who we were, the owners greeted us with delight and led us right to the display.

I think of this as the Youngblood Corner…we were so excited to see everything and Scott was so excited to share details of the cameras with Jim that we didn’t get a photo of the original presentation…the camera fanatics (Scott and Jim) had moved the big camera to a spot where they could examine it more closely.

There are two of GrandDaddy’s cameras on display along with photos and a brief history of his photography. Both cameras are view cameras, where sheet film (preloaded in the darkroom) (for one or maybe two exposures) is inserted into the camera in a holder, then into the back of the camera. After the film is exposed, it is removed and set aside for developing. The large camera, an 8” x 10” view camera, was patented in 1890, the smaller of the two on display is 5” x 7”.

closeup of GrandDaddy’s 8″ x 10″ camera- frontview

GrandDaddy and his son, Homer Youngblood, Jr., had a studio in Georgia in the 1940’s and ’50’s. Prior to that, GrandDaddy worked as a photographer and reporter in Seneca, SC, and later had a studio there, as well.

GrandDaddy’s 5″ x 7″ viercamera frontview

Interviews with family tell me GrandDaddy began work as a photographer sometime after 1918. That’s the year his first wife (my grandmother) died. He had served in the Army during WWI, so I wonder if, like Jim, he learned photography skills as a soldier.

portraits of my GrandDaddy and his son who worked together as photographers

My GrandDaddy as he worked in Seneca, SC as a reporter and photographer. He and I were pen pals once I learned to write and his letters to me were always typed on onionskin paper. He signed them, “Love, Grandpappy Doodlebug”.

The Camera Museum is a passion of Scott Evans. After 40 years as a photographer, Scott now works to restore old photos, convert old movies, slides, and photos to digital format (as the Image Doctor). His lab is in the same building as his museum, which houses his vast collection of cameras of all sorts and anything camera related. There are displays of spy cameras, simple box cameras, folding cameras, twin-lens reflex cameras, 35mm single lens reflex cameras, and more.

a display of Kodak Brownies and similar cameras along with figurines of photographers

Scott has a wealth of knowledge and enthusiasm about all things camera. We will have to visit again and again for me to take it all in.

Displays of paparazzi and some of their famous shots are displayed in the restroom of the building. The area used as holding cells when the building was used as a municipal court space now display famous mug shots (including Johnny Cash, Elvis, and others you will recognize). Scott and his wife welcome you to come visit. Check out their website, make an appointment for a tour, or go for a night of fun on one of their scavenger hunts! You can find them at www.camera-museum.com or www.imagedoctor.com..

My GrandDaddy with all four of his children. The girl on the left is my mother, her sister on the right. The two younger ones, Homer, Jr and Myrtle are children from his marriage to “Miss Catherine” after his first wife’s death.

When I’m making the art quilts where I print an image in black and white on fabric, then add color using ink or watercolor, I think I’m channeling my DNA into art. GrandDaddy made photos in black and white and his son and daughter would sometimes add hand tinting to them.

You may recall an art quilt I made with my GrandDaddy in it: https://sandygilreath.com/four-brothers/

One more exciting tidbit: My hand touched something that touched something that was in the room when this portrait of Abraham Lincoln was taken. Matthew Brady was the photographer. Yes, that’s the profile you see on pennies every day. This is in a collection of direct prints made from the exposed negative in Brady’s camera. This will soon be protected under glass, but we were able to touch something that touched….

First Date

Their first date was at a church gathering for an all-day-sing.

They grew up in the same county, attended the same high school, but it was a long commute between their homes. Twelve miles represented a fortune in time and money – in the early 1930’s, times were tough.

So they wrote to each other. And one heard about a sing that was going to be at High Hill Church, in a far corner of the county – some ten more miles from each of their homes. But families took Sundays off and went to such gatherings. They planned to meet up at the sing, and the courtship became official.

They married a couple of years after that sing and went on to live and prosper in that same county…the “til’ death” part lasted 52 years, all spent in Turner County. Prosperity didn’t come quickly – there were hard times on the farm – but happiness and contentment flourished. My sister and I benefited from two loving parents.

This art quilt I call First Date tells a story of their lives in Turner County and includes evidence of many memories.

I found a map of Turner County printed in the 1930’s in an antique store and transferred it to fabric. The colors in it and in the photos of my parents from that era dictated the whole piece. (And ya’ll know I lean toward browns….)

I made a legend for the map depicting the church where they had their first date with a heart shaped button. Other beads and french knots show the location of their homes and church home.

I included do-dads from a milliner’s supplies (my mother was one of the last to give up the habit of wearing a hat to church), bits of tatting, lace, buttons.

There are remnants of one of Daddy’s suits, a bit of lace from one of Mama’s dresses.

A fabric flower is made from barkcloth much like the living room drapes we had when I was a child.

I made this and mounted it on canvas several months ago. I haven’t shared it before because I’m not quite happy with it on the canvas…I keep looking at it, wondering if it’s best that way. I may add a frame or may remove it from the canvas and finish it more like a quilt. But …here it is, as it is.

Update…since writing this post, I found a couple of relevant photos..

A photo of my parents shortly after their marriage in 1935.

A photo of High Hill Church made in the 1930’s shows how the church would have looked on the occasion of that first date. It also reveals how appropriate the name is. In the flat terrain of Turner County (average elevation 407 feet), High Hill sits at a dizzying 420 feet above sea level.

Teacakes

I’ve been baking. Among the things I’ve explored lately are teacakes.

The word “teacake” transports me through time. When I was a college freshman, living a new quasi-independent life, but homesick at times, I went to the campus post office to find a package waiting for me.

When I think of teacakes, I am transported to a memory. A college freshman, living a new quasi-independent life, but homesick at times, I went to the campus post office to find a package waiting for me.

The package was from Aunt Nellie. A shoebox full of tea cakes. They were wrapped in waxed paper, layers and layers of tea cakes. The box was heavy – full of love.

My suite-mates and friends on the hall in the dorm were as excited as I was. A couple of us went across the street from campus and bought a jar of peanut butter. Part of this memory is that we had to put on dresses – because girls were not allowed to wear slacks in town. We could wear “pant suits” (not jeans!!!) to class, but if we left campus, we were “representing the school” and had to dress appropriately.

Back to the tea cakes. They were fabulous! I ate Aunt Nellie’s teacakes all my life and loved them – but these were especially memorable. Because that box was filled with love from home ( I now realize she must have been missing me terribly in those days) and shared with loving friends who impacted my life forever!

I don’t always put peanut butter on my teacakes, but sometimes I do. And that was a critical element when the box arrived from home…I had to share them with peanut butter!

I don’t have Aunt Nellie’s recipe – when she died, my mother asked if there was anything I especially wanted from her house. I had a long list including her “receipt book”. The book was a spiral bound calendar from some insurance company. But she used it to write down her recipes. When I got it, I immediately searched out the teacake recipe. It said; sugar, flour, butter, egg, soda. Nothing else.

That was all the information that she needed…a reminder of what ingredients to include. That was insufficient information for me.

The recipe I used is one from the White Lily Baking Company’s website, with a few modifications of mine. I omit the nutmeg and add 1 teaspoon of almond extract. (Update: Since writing this, I’ve made them using lemon extract instead of almond and they are the best yet! Lemon tea cakes don’t need peanut butter or nutella – they are great on their own.)

The photo at the top has teacakes on one of Aunt Nellie’s plates.

On Valentine’s Day, I made some teacakes that were heart shaped….and we upped our game adding Nutella instead of peanut butter. Oh, yeah!

And speaking of hearts, I’m still making stuffed ones. I’ve added a few more red ones to the big bowl. And, I baked heart-shaped buttermilk biscuits on Valentine’s Day.

Note: My Aunt Nellie was such an important figure in my life that I’ve written about her again and again. She’s one of the Spinster Sisters, and she’s featured in Miss Nellie’s Country Garden. I mention her every time I talk about geraniums and often when cooking. Typing “Nellie” in the search box will keep you busy reading for a few minutes, at least.

Airing the Quilts

The day was sunny and clear – perfect for a big thick quilt to dry on the lawn. So I gathered some old ones that had been waiting for an outing and draped them on the fence to air.

This pattern is called Chain and Bar, according to Jenny Beyer’s Album of Patchwork Patterns, designed by Clara Stone, published in Practical Needlework, ca. 1906.

These are specimens from Jim’s family. Two grandmothers made quilts in styles distinctive enough that he and his sister can specify the household from which they came. But they don’t always know which generation the maker was from.

Most are tattered and need repair before they can be washed. But what treasures they are, and what stories they tell.

My research tells me this block is a variation of a Cogwheel block. I find a similar block published in 1931. These compass style blocks take on many forms as each “ring” can be combined with portions of other similar blocks.

One grandmother’s quilts are heavier than the other’s. Granny used a thinner cotton batting than Grandmama did. They may have processed both at home, or one used ginned cotton while the other used some straight from the fields.

Some of the fabrics are delicious and vibrant colors, others have faded to be unrecognizable, still others have disintegrated completely.

I personally love the backs of these old quilts, too. Homespun cotton on every one – and, interestingly, in many cases that fabric has NOT disintegrated.

I am in the process of repairing these pieces of history so that they can travel on through the generations. Sometimes that means more labor intensive work than others, but it’s a joy to join these women’s work with my own stitches.

I am adding a label to each quilt that tells what we know of their history and maker – but the fabrics and stitches tell a story, too. The rust circles on the back of this one tells me that this quilt lay under a mattress at sometime, against bare bedsprings.

And, the one quilt that was ready to wash is now drying between two layers of cotton sheets on the grass – the bottom sheet to protect it from grass stains, the top sheet to protect it from birds flying over.

Cousins

Jane and Susie were not just cousins. They were first cousins. They were not just first cousins, they were double-first cousins.

Their mothers were sisters, their daddies were brothers. They were two years apart in age, and shared not only all their relatives, more than the average common DNA, but many experiences. This early photo (about 1940) conveys the closeness they shared.

This photo was taken at the home of their paternal grandparents. Many family photos were set on this porch, on these steps, actually. Imagine a Sunday afternoon after church, adults visiting on the porch; maybe other cousins playing in the yard, neighbors dropping by. These two almost sisters (later, they would have other siblings, but not yet), forging a lifelong bond.

I printed the photo on vintage linen, and added red French knots as buttons on Jane’s dress. The bow in her hair is a found earring.

Layering the photo on wool batting before densely quilting the background adds dimension to the girls. The oval “mat” is a vintage linen embroidered placemat layered on commercial quilting fabric. Beneath all this assembly is a layer of thin cotton batting. Shells (repurposed from an old necklace found in a thrift store) were attached using red seed beads to anchor them. I hand quilted all the layers together using a seed stitch with tatting thread. This thread is a new discovery for me (found in a bag of sewing supplies from an estate sale). I’ve never tatted nor made lace, but the size 80 cotton thread created for these crafts is perfect for a lot of the hand stitching I do.

Note to quilters: that seed stitch leaves a messy backside, so when I use it, I don’t have the final backing on the quilt. I attached another layer, the piece with red cross stitch on it, using the invisible baste stitch I learned from Jude Hill. That’s really a seed stitch, too, with just a dot of thread showing on the top, the longer stitch on the “back” nestled in the batting, not coming through to the other side.

That backing with red stitching is a section of an old tablecloth. I found it on an antiquing plunder and was drawn to the cross stitch, of course. The tablecloth has some stains and had a hole in it – making it less than desirable as a tablecloth. But I rescued it and put it to work. It’s very desirable as a component of art quilts!

The final quilt measures 16″ x 23″.

Papa’s Girls

This photo was taken around 1920, the girls with the man whose name peppered lots of stories. His daughters called him Papa, one calling that name in the days before her death. “Papa is waiting for me.”

In this photo is Papa with two granddaughters; Cleo was born in 1914, Corine in 1916. Their mother died in 1918, giving birth to their little sister. Their father was in the Army, then a traveling photographer, so he was not around to parent them. They lived with this grandfather, spinster aunts, and an invalid grandmother.

The photo is printed on a fragment of vintage linen fabric, layered with wool batting, then collaged with bits of vintage lace, rickrack, beads, ribbons, hand and machine stitching.

The green background is a heavy linen fabric, frayed on the edges. I try to channel the little girl in me when I’m playing this way. One of the things I loved to do when I was a child was to pull threads on the edges of linen fabric to make a fringe. I see I still have that skill.

The heart in the top left is a bit of a silk log cabin quilt that was deteriorated to smitherins. I’ve used bits of it several times, but this time the edge seemed a bit too raw. So I couched a twisted black and white cord around the edges.

I layered all of it on a bit of new commercial fabric that looked old to me, then used freemotion quilting in a heart strings design to make the many layers one.

The backing is another commercial fabric that reminds me of a dress my grandmother wore. The label is becoming my go-to; handwriting on a vintage doily.

I’ve written more about these spinster aunts before: https://sandygilreath.com/spinster-sisters/

And, did I mention that the older girl is my mother? Oh, the wonderful Papa stories I’ve heard! I remember more every time I see his image.

The finished quilt measures 26″ x 16″.

Family Stories

Especially since writing 52 Tuesdays, I’ve encouraged people to preserve their history, to save the family stories for future generations. Several people have told me that they decided to make a journal quilt similar to mine; others have said they were motivated to start keeping a written record of their days. Both ideas thrill me – to know that my words inspired someone to record and share their stories.

But I’ve realized that I haven’t done enough to preserve my own stories, especially those of my childhood. Late in 2019, I began doing just that. The writing project that ensued might be the reason you saw fewer blog posts. The level of sharing is different when it’s being written for future generations and for strangers on the internet – I found it hard to switch gears.

But write personal stories and memories I did. My daughter DJ had asked that I record family memories in my own handwriting. I did some of that, but my arthritic hands and wrists rebelled. And I’ve become accustomed to writing on a computer where editing is easier and later searchable; making it easier to answer the question, “Have I told this already?”

So the book I created included both handwritten and typed stories. I used a notebook system where I could rearrange pages as thoughts did not come in a chronological order. Too, I could add my own papers with photos or drawings, and use pages of different sizes.

The photos you see are a few of the interior pages where you get the idea. I had quite a large extended family of aunts and uncles and cousins. I printed a page with photos for each group and a chart that included family names. That helps whatever subsequent generation is reading it to get relationships more clearly, I think. Between those full sheets (8 1/2” x 11”) showing the family breakdown, I inserted smaller pages with stories.

I continue to think of stories to share. Now it’s a simple matter of writing them and inserting them in the book. This is the gift that keeps on giving. I see a need to add more photos, drawings, maps.

There are pages where Jim wrote stories about his childhood, too

It’s a given that any memory of mine is associated with fabric. So the cover of the book is a collage of textile memories: a lace dress my mother wore, a couple of dresses she made for me, a bit of silk from a dress she received as a child. There’s part of a nail apron from my Daddy’s favorite hardware store, a pocket from a pair of his overalls, a bit of my Grandmother’s apron. Remnants of clothing worn by my sister, me, Jim, and DJ herself are there, too.

I gave this album to DJ at Christmas. It was well received and I’m relieved! I’m relieved that this project is no longer a secret. She has been doing some family research on Ancestry and has a lot of questions – some of which were hard to answer without revealing that I was on a quest, too. Now the charts from Ancestry and the photos and stories from my parents’ albums can work together to solve some mysteries.

Christmas Treasures

part of our Rowe Santa collection – most of Christmas is red and green at our house, but the Rowe is blue!

It’s easy to be a Scrooge at Christmas: it’s too commercial, there are so many places to go, so much to do, too many expectations…bla, bla, bla.

I feel the stress like anyone else, and don’t love the disorder that comes with getting the boxes of decorations out in the middle of the floor. But when the things are rearranged, colors switched from blue to red and green, boxes put away, I’m in love with the season.

The quilt exchange is our first order of business. The fall colored quilts get put away with the pumpkin decor and red and green textiles take their place. They may not all be in the exact same spots as they were last year, but they signify that change is coming.

I’ve posted photos of Christmas quilts before (links at the end of this post) but this chair in the stairwell features a quilt I’ve not written about: Christmas Chains. I quilted it on a longarm machine (not my normal way of doing things) with a holly leaf design in 2014.

Then the Santa collection comes out. As our collection has grown over the years, we have worked to make it more manageable. We now focus on the special ones given to us, a group Jim has painted, our Rowe collection, and those with stories to tell.

An ornament I made when I was first enthralled with counted cross stitch.

We’ve saved the hanging tree ornaments until last. The tree is lit, Christmas music is playing, and we unpack the memories.

Every ornament is filled with thoughts of times past. Maybe it’s the little red tricycle that has miraculously survived for 35 years. It’s so tiny and nearly invisible, it made it to the street on the tree several times. – but rescued before the recycling truck came!

The lights reflected in the shiny balls take me back to childhood – lying under the tree staring at the wonder of it all.

All our ornaments have memories attached. There’s a simple ball from Covington that brings back the magic of sleet beginning to fall at dusk as the courthouse clock was chiming 6 o’clock and we were heading for home.

There’s a Snoopy ornament my mother bought me when I played that character in a college production.

And a niece’s contribution of a ladder ornament – a reminder to her (and to me) of all the laughter associated with rolls of wallpaper hung by my mother and me.

A friend who shares my love of wool made this wreath from snippets.

Pieces made by friends: a wreath made from wool snippets, an elf that started as a light bulb, an ornament made using bits of blue lace and linen dyed when she came to visit me.

A funky chicken I bought on a glorious day in Thomasville.

Jim has three very special ornaments: two hung on grandparents’ trees when his parents were children, one was on the tree when he was a little boy. And the Radko bagpiper reflects on his Scottish heritage.

After the decorating, Jim captured this image of the tree in a wineglass. I called it “Christmas Cheer”.

As we unpack these cherished memories, the love and treasured moments of the past come flooding back and we bask in the fortune we have – at our age, we certainly miss some of the people from our past at this season – but we delight in the wonderful memories triggered by these pieces of metal, plastic, and wood. Isn’t that the spirit of the season? For us it is.

Here’s hoping your preparation for the holidays is as stress-free as possible, and filled with special memories of all your Christmases!

I’ve written about Christmas quilts before – if you are aching to see red and green quilts, check out these past posts:

Pomegranates and Poinsettias

Christmas Quilts

Christmas Quilts on the Farm

Soup and Cornbread

Today was a snow day, a sew day, followed by a cold, cold night. Our supper was one we have frequently in this weather – vegetable soup and bread. Sometimes the bread is a crusty loaf we can dip in olive oil, sometimes it’s soft yeast rolls with butter. This night it was a southern favorite, cornbread.

Cornbread baked in my mother’s cast iron skillet. That skillet holds more memories than grease molecules. My mother baked cornbread in it every single weekday of my memory. No matter what the menu, no matter how hot the kitchen would be in the summertime, the oven and pan were preheated to 400?. Meanwhile, a simple mixture of self-rising cornmeal, egg, and whole milk was stirred together. When the pan was hot, bacon drippings were poured in, then the batter, then it cooked until done.

The round pone was always inverted on a plate, cut into eight wedges, and set on the corner of the table next to Daddy’s plate. I don’t recall Mama ever eating any, but Daddy ate it at lunchtime, and again sometimes at supper. Sometimes his supper was simply a wedge of cornbread (room temperature, never reheated) and a glass of milk.

Aunt Nellie, my mother’s maternal aunt, preferred hoecakes; thin cornmeal cakes cooked on top of the stove. From her comments, I inferred that Mama’s recipe was one from Daddy’s family and that she adopted it for our meals.

We ate plenty of leftovers at our house, but never leftover cornbread. Even if only one wedge was eaten at lunchtime, the remainder was discarded and a new pone cooked the next day. I don’t know why.

In my adult life, I’ve tried many cornbread recipes, many pans, and many other options. The alternatives are all good; we enjoy jalapeño cheddar cornbread occasionally, hoecakes are served at our favorite local restaurant, and once I discovered Tasha Tudor’s cornbread recipe, that complex sweet concoction sometimes finds its way to our table. Tasha advised that hot cornbread is better with a bit of butter and honey or blackberry jam on it. I agree!

I’ve baked cornbread in square pans, long pans, muffin pans; some glass, some stainless steel, some cast iron. But nothing gives the crust like Mama’s old cast iron skillet. But the cornbread will stick to that pan if I use any lubricant other than bacon grease. So I’ve learned to cook bacon for breakfast if I’m planning to cook cornbread later in the day.

A nice rubdown afterwards with a paper towel is the only cleaning my skillet gets. No water, no soap. A childhood memory more than 50 years ago is of Mama and Aunt Nellie building a fire outside and “burning off” their cast iron cookware. Then they seasoned them with grease of some kind and put them in the oven. This skillet was one of those.

Mama’s Cornbread Recipe was: 1 cup self-rising cornmeal, 1 egg, 2/3 cup whole milk. Mix ingredients. Preheat oven to 400? with iron skillet inside. Pour 1 tablespoon bacon drippings into pan, swirl around bottom and sides of pan, then pour in batter. Bake 20 minutes. (All quantities are my approximations, she didn’t measure anything.)

As for the vegetable soup recipe, it varies depending on what’s on hand. Tonight’s version started with a leftover rump roast, potatoes, carrots, onions, portobello mushrooms, corn, some frozen butterbeans, diced tomatoes. Cooked slowly, tasted, seasoned, simmered some more…

You Can Make Anything

I’ve long had a quilt in my mind called Family Lines in which I would record oft-repeated lines from family members. It would bring warmth as a cover, but also warm memories for others to recall the voices from the past. Some of those lines I’ve already written about, like Daddy singing “Pa, he bought him a great big billy goat…” or Wallace’s oft-quoted line “you shore can’t sop syrup with ‘em.” Advice like Aunt Nellie’s, “Always plant geraniums in clay pots,” and Jim’s query to the girls, “did you unplug the curling iron?” will add practical notes, too. (Details of those stories are here, here, and here.)

One line I would have to include from my mother is, “You can make anything. But you can’t make everything.” I quoted this to a young quilting friend of mine last year as we were discussing some of the tempting patterns for making tote bags. Though they are lovely and give one a unique accessory that displays favorite fabrics and techniques, they are time consuming to make. She repeated my mother’s line and said, “Wow. That’s so true. And a powerful line to remember.”

Yes, she was right – it is a powerful message. I’ve had that line running through my head a lot lately. I look around my sewing space and see fabric waiting to go in the dye pot, fabric that’s been dipped in the dye pot and ready to compose into Rescued Remnant pieces, photos to print on fabric, strips of fabric waiting to be woven backgrounds ala Jude Hill. In my sketchbook is a series of churches I want to put on cloth. On my design wall are components for my Paducah journal quilt in progress. In another basket are luscious wools cut and ready to stitch. Of course, the time for the guild challenge draws closer. And there’s more, including a few UFOs that could command my attention.

Then there’s the avalanche of images and ideas that press into my mind wherever I look. Especially if I look online. Projects that are physically unbegun, but I have to resist the temptation to begin them. My mother also said, “Finish what you’ve started before you start anything else.” ( I know – the mention of a few UFO’s tells that I don’t always follow that advice.)

I try to use the brainpower generated by my morning walk to plan my “work” for the day. (I put that word in quotes because I do think of the “do the work” advice given to artists fits my daily activities, but in no way is what I do in the sewing room anything but FUN.) Lately my focus of that brainpower has been to narrow the field of possibilities and remember, to paraphrase my mother’s advice, “I can do any of these things, but I can’t do all of them today.“

The photos show snippets of today’s temptations. At least one of those will get some focused attention.

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