• Fran Dill

Cobblestone Street

Wow, week 4 already!

This week's block brings back a special childhood memory.

My parents both grew up in Johnstown PA, and after they married they moved to Chicago.

Every summer we would pack in the car and make that long, long, drive to Johnstown. All my siblings piled into the car along with sandwiches and apples my mother made ahead of time, and my Dad who never liked to stop for potty breaks.

Boy I hated those long trips. Did I mention they were long? I may have hated those drives but I loved arriving.

Not just to see my Grandparents, but also to see their house that I loved. My Grandparents lived in a wonderful Victorian home that was passed down from the generation before. It had wonderful nooks and spaces that you just don’t see in homes today.

There was one room that was one of my favorites. It was a long narrow room that had a cedar closet taking up most of one wall and on the other side was my Grandmother’s treadle machine and her ironing board. At the end of this room was a small bay window which I would sit at while my Grandmother ironed. She didn't have a clothes dryer. In the summer the clothes dried on the clothesline in the backyard, and in the winter they dried on the clothesline in the basement. So my Grandmother ironed everything! I would sit there and keep her company and look out that window down the cobblestone street.

I loved that street! I would always listen to the sounds the cars made going over it. I loved watching the rain the most. I would sit on the front porch and watch the rainwater travel over and around those cobblestones.

I’ll never forget the summer we came and they had paved over those cobblestones.

How could they do that! Why would they do that?

They ruined everything, or at least, in my mind they did. That was the turning point in my memories. My Grandparents got a real washer and dryer and my Grandmother spent less and less time in that special room.

Here are my cobblestones, and my special treasures. See those two heart-shaped stones? Those two stones sit stacked on my dresser. They were given to me by each of my kids when they were young. Who knew a rock would mean so much to me.

I hope your Quilters Cottage Quilt brings back special memories for you.

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