The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

If you’re one of those cynical folks who think social media and the internet killed off American crafts in the 21st Century, you haven’t met the women of Camano Island who still gather in their quilt clubs to exchange ideas, techniques and fabrics at their bi-monthly meetings in the Grange. The Queen Bee Quilters alone number close to 60 dedicated quilt makers. Before the state closed Cama Beach’s historic resort cabins, every one sported their quilts on each and every bed.

Lori Jurgenson, the current President of the Queen Bees, dropped by my glass shack a week ago with Darlene Abercrombie, the current V. P. What they wanted, hell if I knew, but when Lori called out of the blue, I thought maybe I had a potential client, a rarity these long winter days. “I thought it was about time we met,” she said over the phone shortly after disclosing without much encouragement that she was Queen of the Queen Bees. Sure, and I’m the Emperor of Ice Cream, which I did not say, fortunately. Lori, it turned out, was pretty much a no-nonsense, draw between the lines, hard driving head of the largest quilt club north of Seattle and Gomorrah. Or so she said. At least the part about the largest quilt club … the rest was obvious within our first five minutes.

With nary a sideways glance at the glasswork strewn in every nook, cranny, hidey-hole and corner, she announced that she had heard of me. What she wanted was to offer me the opportunity to design quilts based on my glasswork.

“Well,” I said, a little knocked off my expectations, “when I started stained glass, you know, first learning the craft, I used library books on quilting patterns. Geometric stuff, simple straight lines. Both are like building a puzzle, cut the parts, solder and sew them together.”

“Exactly, Mr. Daddle. Which is why we want to ask if you would provide the Queen Bees some of your patterns.” Darlene jumped in here to second the motion. “Think how many of your wonderful designs could be sewn and stitched by our group!”

“Of course most of the Club prefers the more traditional quilts,” Lori hastened to add. “Your work, I’ve heard, is a bit more ….” She paused to search for the right characterization. “Contemporary,” she finally added.

Faint praise indeed. A savvy businessman might have entered into serious negotiations at this point, worked out the details of design remuneration, royalties, all those fine points of the Art of the Deal. But when Lori launched into the benefits accruing to the use of my designs by the Queen Bees, practically guaranteeing future fame and fortune for my lucky self once the quilts became public, well, I could see the good ladies of the Bees were merely trying to help my floundering enterprise achieve the success it would never attain without their assistance.

With great reluctance I assured the ladies that I would give it my utmost attention and thanked them for their interest, promising to get back to them in the near future. The near future, needless to say, wouldn’t come anytime soon. Walking them to the door, two double doors actually, neither women commented on the large design that encompassed both panels of glass. Probably too busy imagining that in fabric, I supposed. Or just anxious to make an exit.