Aunt Ninnee's Quilt

I ran my fingers across Aunt Ninnee's quilt. The fabric was soft. The quilt had been around for over 100 years. It had been cared for by many great women from the Benberry family. There was a special way to care for the quilt; and in each generation, someone was carefully chosen to learn how to care for the quilt. It was finally my turn to care for the quilt.

Aunt Ninnee rested in her bed. I sat in the chair beside her bed. I watched her lay there, breathing in and out slowly. I didn't want the responsibility of caring for the quilt.

I had told Aunt Ninnee many a time before, but she would just shake her head and say, "Baby, it's your turn."

I watched the old woman's labored breathing. She was dying. She knew and I knew it. She refused to go to the hospital to be examined. Aunt Ninnee was a stubborn old woman.

She told me, "I am dying at my house, covered by this quilt, just like every Benberry woman before me. That's the right I have as the quilt bearer. One day, you will have that honor, even though you don't want it."

All I could do was shake my head. I was stuck in my predicament. I had to stay by Aunt Ninnee's side until she passed on to glory and then become the bearer of the quilt. I began to think about the history of Aunt Ninnee's quilt. It was a rich history

It has been said that the history of the quilt started in 1906. The quilt was started with a piece of cloth from the uniform of Howard Benberry, a black soldier who was involved in the soldier riots in Brownsville, Texas. Howard Benberry's wife, Pearl Benberry, started the quilt to remember her husband after his death. She gathered piece of cloth from all the family members who was at Howard's funeral. After each family member had given her a piece of fabric, the quilt was larger than Pearl had expected. It was 39 inches by 75 inches. Pearl used the quilt each night to cover up her only daughter, Edith.

As Edith grew older, Pearl taught her how to continue the quilt, by collecting pieces of fabric from various family members who sent them pieces of fabric. By 1908, the quilt was the size that Pearl had wanted it to be, 60 inches by 80 inches. The last thing Pearl did before she died in 1909 finish the quilt and teach her daughter Edith how to care for the quilt.

The tradition of passing the quilt down to a family member was started by Edith Benberry-DuBois. As her daughters were born, one of them began to take an interest in the quilt. Her second daughter, Harriet, would often ask her mother about the quilt. Harriet asked her mother about the history of the quilt. Edith's other daughters very rarely asked any questions about the quilt.

Harriet would always watch her mother as she cleaned the quilt. Harriet would even help her mother clean the quilt. Edith decided to let Harriet care for the quilt. Edith talked to Harriet about caring for the quilt and passing the quilt down to another female member of the family upon her death.

Edith said, "This quilt will live on in our family. As each generation is born, one of the female children will be chosen to care for the quilt. She will be taught how to clean the quilt. She will be taught the history of the quilt. She will be taught the tradition of the quilt."

Aunt Ninnee grunted. I looked at her.

She turned her head towards me and said, "What are you thinking about?"

I forced a smile as I said, "This quilt. Why did you pick me? I don't want the responsibility. What if I mess it up?"

It was as if Aunt Ninnee had gotten a burst of strength. She sat up on her bed and stared at me. She moved over on the bed and then motioned for me to come sit next to her. As complied with the old lady's wish. She rubbed my back. Her old hands still felt good. The love that flowed through her hands was still there, even though she was dying.

Aunt Ninnee rubbed my back, "Do you think I wanted this silly old thing?"

She raised the quilt up and glared at it as if it were a dirty old rag. She put the quilt back down and then lovingly rubbed it back into place.

She smiled, "I hated this thing growing up. I had to spend my Saturday mornings with Grandma Eunice, washing this thang. All the other children were out playing and I was washing this thing on a scrub board, that old raggedy scrub board. I tried to get Grandma Eunice to buy a new scrub board, but she just wouldn't."

Aunt Ninnee took a long deep breath. For the past two days, she couldn't say more than ten words without losing her breath.

I wanted to comfort my Aunt Ninnee, "You don't have to tell me about the quilt. Why don't you just rest?”

Aunt Ninnee made a face, "Child, where I am going, I will be resting for a long time. Praise the Lord. Where was I?"

She paused for a brief moment and then finished her story, "After Grandma Eunice died, I realized the importance of this quilt. It wasn't just some old collection of fabric anymore; it was my family's history; and Grandma Eunice saw something in me that lead her to choose me to care for it. It was no longer a responsibility, it was an honor."

Aunt Ninnee coughed. I reached for the bottle of water that was sitting on the table next to the bed. I helped her drink from the bottle.

She made a face, "I hate these bottles."

I laughed. Aunt Ninnee hated almost everything that had been created after the 1970s. It was all we could do to get her to let us buy her a television. She still had the one we bought her in 1985.

She refused to let us buy her a newer model, by saying, "This one works just fine. I can watch what I want to watch on this one."

Aunt Ninnee grabbed my hand. I had gotten use to her doing that after 22 years of her grabbing my hand. She moved my hand to the top of the quilt and placed it on the piece of fabric from Howard Benberry's uniform.

She said, "That piece of fabric started this whole thing. It's a wonder what can happen with the smallest piece of faith, ain't it, Little Sue?"

I cringed. I hated it when she called me that.

My name is Suevina. I don't know how my father came up with that name. When the time I was born, until this day, Aunt Ninnee has called me Little Sue.

She said, "I can't pronounce that child's name, so I am gonna call her Little Sue."

Aunt Ninnee smiled as she moved my hand to a red piece of fabric. It was the biggest piece of fabric on the quilt.

Aunt Ninnee said, "Child, this one, is from Howard's daughter, Claudine. You know she was a dance hall girl, shaking her tail for money. Lord have mercy. She wore a fast-tail dress to the funeral. After she cut this piece, she almost didn't have no dress left at all."

I laughed. That dress got smaller and smaller each time Aunt Ninnee told that story.

The aged woman moved my hand to a pink piece of fabric, "This here is Edda Mae's baby blanket. The child died right in her mamma's arm. Mary labored all night with that baby only to have her die. The only thing that comforted Mary was this quilt. It was as if the quilt took the hurt away. Mary lay covered in this quilt for three days, crying. After the third day, Mary got up out of her bed and then went on with her life. There is life in this quilt."

Aunt Ninnee refused to quit talking.

She had to continue on with her story, "This white piece right here, it is from Victor he was a nurse in a local hospital. He was one of the first professional men in our family. This black pinstripe piece right here is from Rev. Gregory Tatum. He was the first preacher in our family. I heard he could call fire down from Heaven just like Elijah."

Aunt Ninnee coughed again. I tried to get her to stop talking, but she refused, "You wanted to know why I picked you. I am telling you why I picked you. See this yellow polka dot piece. That's from my family line. Arthur Brewer, don't ask me his relation to me, was on his death bed. He asked to be covered up with the quilt. After a week, he got well. No one knows how. He just got up and walked off his death bed. There is healing in this quilt. I can keep going forever."

I blew a breath. Aunt Ninnee patted me on my leg, "You are tired of me, aren't you?"

I didn't say a word. Aunt Ninnee smiled, "I know, baby. Your mama still ain't told yet."

I looked perplexed, "Old lady, what are you talking about?"

Aunt Ninnee smiled again, "I may be old, but I am beautiful. You ain't gonna never be this old, being so mean."

I laughed.

Aunt Ninnee turned her face towards the wall. I thought she was finally through talking. I started to get off the bed.

Aunt Ninnee grabbed my arm, "Where you going?"

I didn't have time to answer because Aunt Ninnee said, "I ain't finished my story." I sat back down on the bed.

Aunt Ninnee reached up and rubbed my face, "You a pretty chile. I was at your birth. Did you know that?"

I stared at Aunt Ninnee, "No ma’am. I didn't."

I didn't know much about my birth, other than there were some complications. No one ever said anything about it.

Aunt Ninnee continued her story, "I stayed with your mother while she had you. You were a hard pregnancy for your mother. She had to be in the bed most of the time she was pregnant with you. I let her sleep with the quilt most of the time. Whenever she had that quilt on her, you would move yourself so that you could be next to the quilt. No matter where you were, you always came up to the quilt. Everybody could see you plain as day, too, just poking yourself out."

Aunt Ninnee paused and then continued on, "You been stubborn since you were born. You refused to come out. You were two weeks late. I still ain't figured out how Doc Green let you stay in as long as you did. Your mother was stubborn. She wanted you to come out on your own, but you wouldn't. Doc Green finally decided to make you come out. He tried to persuade you to come out with medicine, but you just wouldn't come out. After two days, he decided to take you out. But your mother didn't want surgery. Just stubborn."

Aunt Ninnee seemed to be gaining strength as she told her story, "They called me to the hospital cause your mother was near bout to have a fit. The Lord said to me plain as day, 'Take the quilt with you.' I did. When I get to the hospital, your mother is there throwing a fit, looking a fright. You were poking your head out, making your mother stomach look big as a watermelon. I declare you was laughing at all of us grown folk wrestling with your mother. I finally got her calmed down and told Doc Green to leave her alone. You were still there poking your head out. I looked at your mother's stomach right at you and said, 'If you don't brang your stubborn hide out of there now, I'm a come in there and get you!' You moved, too. Your mother went into labor right after I said that to you."

Aunt Ninnee looked up at me and smiled. She didn't have any children of her own, but she had raised enough children to be considered a mother. I know I thought of her more as my mother, than I did my own mother.

Aunt Ninnee touched my face again, "You pretty, even though you came out looking ugly. Your mother wrestled with you for over 15 hours. You started out and then stopped in the middle and stayed there. Doc Green was looking in your mother. He could see you, but you wouldn't come out. Doc Green got a machine and looked at you. You were stuck and couldn't move. Doc Green got that fork looking contraption and pulled you out. The old fool squished your head. You were a sight."

Aunt Ninnee laughed a hearty laugh. She reached over me for her bottle of water.

I leaned back so she could get it and said, "I could have handed it to you."

Aunt Ninnee huffed, "I ain't helpless."

I shook my head. Aunt Ninnee finished drinking the water and handed me the bottle.

I didn't take it from her, "I thought you weren't helpless."

Aunt Ninnee made a face, "Quit being smart and put this thang up."

I took the bottle from her hand and placed it on the table.

"Where was I?" Aunt Ninnee didn't wait for me to respond, "Oh yea, you were all squished up. Your mother was having a fit cause she wanted to see you and Doc Green wouldn't let her. He was trying to get you to breathe right. You were having a hard time. Between you and your mother, Doc Green had his hands full. Finally, I told Doc Green to hand you to me and for him to take care of your mother. I wrapped you up, nasty and all, in the quilt and rocked you. Before too long, you were breathing right. After a few minutes, you started cooing up a storm. You had the quilt in your hands, sucking on the edge of it. Right then and there, I knew I was supposed to pass the quilt on to you."

Tears rolled down my face. I never knew any of that story. Aunt Ninnee rubbed my hand gently as I cried. I understood. I knew why I had spent all those Saturdays with Aunt Ninnee, learning how to wash the quilt. I understood why Aunt Ninnee yelled at the kids when they tried to take it outside and use it as a tent. I understood everything.

I stopped crying and kissed Aunt Ninnee on her forehead.

Aunt Ninnee smiled, "Well baby, it's not Aunt Ninnee's quilt any more. It's Little Sue's quilt now."

I smiled. It didn't even bother me that the old woman had called me Little Sue. I was the bearer of the quilt.

I stood up from the bed. Aunt Ninnee gave no objection. I adjusted the quilt on Aunt Ninnee's body. She looked so peaceful and calm. She didn't seem to be breathing, so I felt for a pulse. There wasn't one. I let the tears roll down my face as I took charge of the quilt, as I had been instructed to do.

I smiled as I walked to the phone to call the doctor.

I thought to myself, "The next time this story is told, it will be called 'Little Sue's Quilt'."