Judith Grogan-Shorb
The Tricksters' Wives Quilting Bee
The world's myths, legends, folk tales, and fairy tales are replete
with stories about tricksters, how they are devious, mischievous,
quick-witted, and most of all how they love irony. Many tricksters
like to brag that they stole the knowledge of fire from the gods, and
presented it as a gift to 'man'. How ironic that this knowledge that
once helped mankind progress is the very knowledge that could destroy
it.
Poor old one-toothed Ida, who lived on the middle floor of our house
when I was a little one, used to tell me many stories. As mid-wife to
the fairies she knew many secrets, how things came to be and how they
were named. My favorite stories were those that concerned the animal
tricksters; Mr. Coyote, Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Fox, Mr. Raven, and my
favorite, Mr. Bear.
Occasionally, Ida and I would travel to Four Corners, a rather remote
country road in Dutch County in upstate New York, on nights that the
tricksters met for their weekly night out with the guys. They¹d drink
all kinds of liquor, and tell bold-faced lies about their magical
powers.
"Look at the old fools, each one scrambling to get a corner." Ida
whispered. "Watch them change shapes, why it¹s a wonder they even
remember who they are! Sometimes they forget, and try to shape change
into one another. Identity theft is a big thing among these wily
creatures.
One time old Fox stole Rabbit¹s identity, but it was on the night of
the great rabbit hunt and all the other foxes were chasing him. Boy, he
really had a lot of talking to do to get his self out of that one.
"They think they¹re the original shape changers. Why I learnt more
from the clouds about shape-shifting then they¹ll ever know in a life
time...all them, put together. Watch this."
Ida took a deep breath, and suddenly created a Trojan Horse. The
Tricksters stopped their prankstering, and headed straight toward the
horse.
"What's this?"
"Who sent it?"
They pulled it to the center of the cross roads, and decided that
they'd put all their strength together, and rush it. At the count of
three, they ran toward the horse. Just as they got there it changed
into a big hole, and they all fell on top of one another.
Ida and I laughed as we watched them unscramble themselves, and then try to retake each other's corner.
"Look, guys, this has to be our secret. Why if word got around
that we fell for the old Trojan Horse trick we'd be the laughing stock
of the trickster world, why our whole reputation would be shot," said
Mr. Bear.
They all agreed.
"That one's for their wives," said Ida. "I promised them I'd give
the old blowhards a wee bit of a trick tonight. Their wives get tired
of them going out drinking and trickstering once a week, or more if
they want to. They come home drunk, why once in-a-while, they forget to
change back into their original selves, and end up at the wrong house.
The wives invited me to their weekly quilting bee next week, would you
like to come?"
Well, what would you say?
The following Tuesday night, after I dried the silverware and put them
away, I went down stairs to Ida¹s. She had just replaced the wick in
her kerosene lamp, and was sipping a fresh cup of camomile tea.
"Are we really going to one of the Tricksters' wives' house? Which
one? Are they really having a quilting bee? Grandma has two quilts that
her mom's auntie made at a quilting bee, a long time ago. One was made
with Susan B. Anthony. Grandma says that is where Susan started talking
about voting rights for women because it was the only place she could
talk without getting into trouble. Why didn't they let women vote, Ida?
That's not fair,is it?"
"No, it isn¹t fair, but I am afraid you are going to be saying that a
lot in your life. Your grandma is right, quilting bees were a place
where women could gather and talk as they sat around the quilting
frame. Some quilts told stories, others gave directions to slaves who
were escaping to the north, to freedom. Maybe they couldn't read words,
but they could read symbols sewn in quilts at those bees. Are you ready
to visit the tricksters' wives? Hold my hand."
Pretty soon we were standing outside a cave covered with leaves. If you
didn't know it was there, you'd never known it was there. You know what
I mean. Ida rustled the leaves and Mrs. Bear answered.
"Oh, Ida come on in. This must be your little friend you told us
about. We were just sitting around this old broken down frame, and
trying to finish this quilt so we can enter it in the Annual
Tricksters' Country Fair. We are so annoyed at our husbands. We've been
asking them to help us repair the frame. They always have an excuse not
to."
"Our den is the only place we can gather. . .with any great deal
of comfort, that is. We tried the hare house. That's a joke, sorry
little one, the raven's nest, the fox hole, and poor Mrs. Coyote never
knows where she is going to be."
"It is just about the best quilt we ever made, see it is the story of
Tricksterhood from its very beginnings, the good, the bad. . .well you
know", said Mrs. Coyote.
"We worked so hard, this year. Each year at the fair names are
drawn to see who works with whom or maybe that should be who works with
what," said Mrs Rabbit.
"Right," said Mrs. Raven. "This is just the best possible mix. Not all tricksters' women get along as well as we do."
"We thought, that just this once, we could show that even though
we are different, we could unite. Even if it was just for one brief
moment in the shining annals of Tricksterhood," Mrs. Fox added.
"Hmmm, I have an idea. Let's get to work. Now each of you, sew
exactly what I tell you." Ida instructed. Their needles never stopped moving, and within a few hours they were through."
"Oh, it is far too wonderful for words. Such needle work, I have
never seen. I promise you, your wood frame will be fixed in no time at
all. Everybody go to her home and leave an urgent message on your door
to come to the Bears as soon as possible."
About an hour later we heard all this noise going on outside the den.
When the male tricksters entered the cave they were greeted with a huge
patchwork quilt stretched between the walls. On it was the whole story
of how they were tricked by the Trojan Horse and fell into the hole.
I never heard such noise in my entire life. They pleaded and begged
their wives not to show it to anyone, ever. As I recall their wives
never promised anything, but I know their quilting frame was fixed,
most solidly.
If memory serves me correctly, their wives won first prize in the quilting bee contest that year.
Copyright (C) Judith Grogan-Shorb, 2008. All rights reserved.