The Keeping Quilt
The
Keeping Quilt
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
The
keeping Qulit
Patricia Polacco
When my Great-Gramma Anna came to America
she wore the same thick overcoat and big boots she
had worn for farm work. But her family weren’t dirt
farmers anymore. In New York City her father’s work
was hauling things on a wagon, and the rest of the
family made artificial flowers all day.
Everyone was in a hurry, and it was so crowded,
not like in backhome Russia. But all the same it was
their home, and most of their neighbors were just
like them.
When Anna went to school,
English sounded to her like
pebbles dropping into shallow
water. Shhhhhh. . . . Shhhhh. . . .
Shhhhhh. In six months she was
speaking English. Her parents
almost never learned, so she
spoke English for them, too.
The only things she had left of backhome Russia were her
dress and the babushka she liked to throw up into the air
when she was dancing.
And her dress was getting too
small. After her mother had sewn
her a new one, she took her old
dress and babushka. Then from
a basket of old clothes she took
Uncle Vladmir’s shirt, Aunt
Havalah’s nightdress, and an apron
of Aunt Natasha’s.
“We will make a quilt to help us
always remember home,” Anna’s
mother said. “It will be like having
the family in backhome Russia
dance around us at night.”
And so it was. Anna’s mother invited all the neighborhood ladies. They cut out animals and
flowers from the scraps of clothing. Anna kept the needles threaded and handed them to the
ladies as they needed them. The border of the quilt was made of Anna’s babushka.
On Friday nights Anna’s mother would say the prayers
that started the Sabbath. The family ate challah and
chicken soup. The quilt was the tablecloth.
Anna grew up and fell in love with Great-Grandpa Sasha.
To show he wanted to be her husband, he gave
Anna a gold coin, a dried flower, and a piece of
rock salt, all tied into a linen handkerchief.
The gold was for wealth, the flower
for love, and the salt so their
lives would have flavor.
She accepted the hankie.
They were engaged.
Under the wedding
huppa, Anna and
Sasha promised
each other love and
understanding.
After the wedding,
the men and women
celebrated separately.
When my Grandma Carle was born, Anna wrapped her
daughter in the quilt to welcome her warmly into the
world. Carle was given a gift of gold, flower, salt, and
bread. Gold so she would never know poverty, a flower
so she would always know love, salt so her life would
always have flavor, and bread so that she would never
know hunger.
Carle learned to keep the Sabbath and to cook and clean
and do washing.
“Married you’ll be someday,” Anna told Carle, and. . .
again the quilt became a
wedding huppa, this time
for Carle’s wedding to
Grandpa George. Men
and women celebrated
together, but they still did
not dance together. In
Carle’s wedding bouquet
was a gold coin, bread, and salt.
Carle and George moved to a farm in Michigan and
Great-Gramma Anna came to live with them. The quilt
once again wrapped a new little girl, Mary Ellen.
Mary Ellen called Anna, Lady Gramma. She had grown very old and was sick a lot
of the time. The quilt kept her legs warm.
On Anna’s ninety-eighth birthday, the cake was a kulich,
a rich cake with raisins and candied fruit in it.
When Great-Gramma
Anna died, prayers were
said to lift her soul to
heaven. My mother
Mary Ellen was now
grown up.
When Mary Ellen left home, she took the quilt with her.
When she became a bride, the quilt became her huppa. For the first time, friends who
were not Jews came to the wedding. My mother wore a suit, but in her bouquet were
gold, bread, and salt.
The quilt welcomed me, Patricia, into the world. . .
and it was the tablecloth for my first birthday party.
At night I would trace my fingers around the edges of each animal
on the quilt before I went to sleep. I told my mother stories about the
animals on the quilt. She told me whose sleeve had made the horse,
whose apron had made the chicken, whose dress had made the flowers,
and whose babushka went around the edge of the quilt.
The quilt was a pretend cape when I was in the bullring,
or sometimes a tent in the steaming Amazon jungle.
At my wedding to Enzo-Mario, men and women danced together. In my bouquet were gold,
bread, and salt—and a sprinkle of wine, so I would always know laughter.
Twenty years ago I held
Traci Denise in the
quilt for the first time.
Someday she, too, will
leave home and she will
take the quilt with her.
Patricia Polacco, The Keeping Quilt
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