But I have a habit.
And I now confess
That I haunt fabric retailers
To bolster my stash.
I spend too much money.
I spend too much time.
And I enjoy every moment
Crafting blankets so fine.
My quilts they are pretty.
My quilts do no harm.
They give me much pleasure
And they keep people warm.
Thus, I guess, my dear reader
I should feel no great guilt
When I spend all my spare time
Making another patchwork quilt.
Kathryn MacCuish
This story is based on tales Rowe heard as a boy growing up in Point Edward.
In the early 1900’s as a young boy on a small farm, I heard stories about the old times going out to sea. Finally when I became sixteen years old my father said I could go on the next trip. That fall they began planning their trip and I was among them. We packed a lot of supplies, as we did not know what was ahead of us.
Finally one November morning we got on the sailing ship and headed out to sea. I could only watch and try to help as we headed south.
About the tenth day a storm started. It did not seem that bad but later that night it got really bad. I knew my father and his friends were getting worried as the old ship stared creaking badly. I was told to expect the worst and to strap all the food and water I could around my waist just in case.