Well, the good news… I was published again. Bad news… they missed an entire huge paragraph right in the middle of the story when they printed it, and now it doesn’t sound very good at all. It is very disappointing, really. I was hoping to impress my Mother at least, and now, I hope everyone who owns a copy of The Quilted Word, rips out page 17 and doesn’t actually read it. I have decided NOT to send my mother a copy. I can do without her showing the book to every person she meets, proud as a mother should be, but then that person looking at her, with their eyebrows raised, thinking that what they are reading really sucks! It simply has no flow to it at all. Ok, on second thought, I am just kidding on that ripping-out-the-page thing, the pictures of Agatha are quite nice, and if you could read the missing paragraph with it, it’s not so bad. That was just my original disappointment on seeing the mistake in print. I would imagine that most people who read the story, will skip right through it and not notice it at all… but unfortunately, Agatha and her family might.
I was very excited to be asked to participate as a writer in The Quilted Word Project this past spring. The Georgian Bay Folk Society initiated the project and partnered with a few local groups, such as The Grey Bruce Cultural Network, The Tempo Foundation and The Bluewater Quilters Guild to develop this project through the Creative Aging in Action Program. Each quilter was paired with one of the volunteer writers. Our job as the writer, was to capture the story that inspired our quilter to create their quilt block.
My quilter’s name was Agatha Robertson. She has an amazing sense of humour and loved to giggle at all my saracastic jokes, as did a few of her friends. I seemed to fit right in there, and wished I was a senior so that I could be part of “making history” with them. Agatha did something unique with her square, dividing it up into four tiny squares, each with a different little story of her love for flowers, water and her family. Too bad the giant paragraph telling about her dozen red roses didn’t actually get in the book. It was a great romantic story about her and her husband, Harold, and the arrival of each of their children… it went something like this…
“Agatha loves the tulips that remind her of her homeland, but her favourite of all flowers is the red rose. When she was pregnant for the fifth and final time, 6-1/2 years after already having three girls and one boy, she was told by her husband, Harold, that he would give her a dozen red roses if they had a boy… she had a girl. He then proceeded to send her twelve red roses with one pink rose accompanied by a witty smile and a kiss. Truth be known, Harold sent Agatha a dozen red roses each and every time she gave birth, no matter whether it was a girl or boy, with one additional rose signifying the difference between them (a baker’s dozen). As far as Agatha was concerned, it didn’t matter the colour of flowers, as long as they were roses, they would make her smile. In the lower left hand square Agatha has placed one red rose with two green leaves to symbolize her love for roses and her love for her husband’s wit.”
So, if you have a copy of the book, you will have to insert this third paragraph, so you will understand her love for flowers (as the title of the piece indicates) and her love for for husband, Harold and all five of her beautiful children. Oh well, I need to stop crying pouting about it now and get on with life. I just hope Agatha and her family will forgive me for the error.
Here’s a picture of me and my favourite new friend, Agatha Robertson… bless her little heart for putting up with me all spring! Sorry, that I didn’t get a chance to proof-read my own story again, before it went to press… but hey, at least you are the most famous lady in your building now!