A few words about self publishing.

Here's a little story about the unexpected pitfalls with self publishing. My photographer Gregory Case and I published a small specialty art book with an online company called Lulu. When we order our books from Lulu, they come printed to our agreed specifications on high gloss paper to showcase Gregory's high stunning photographs of my quilts. However, when people ordered the books from Amazon, we discovered that Amazon had somehow acquired the ability to print the books themselves, and were doing so on flat, non gloss paper resulting in dull inferior imagines, much to our dismay. Our struggle to find any satisfaction has been frustrating as it's been impossible to get any clarification from Lulu, and so far, completely impossible to get in touch with anyone at Amazon about this issue.. I just read a major article on this topic in one of the leading magazine suggesting that Amazon has become the Walmart of the publishing business.

At Home and On the Road With Gwen

            I spent 2 weeks in April visiting a couple of great guilds in southern California. When I got home I found out that the island had lost one of it's own just that very day. I want to tell you this little story about life and death of Beaver Island, a tiny community where everyone knows everyone. Russell Green was 81 years old, one of the last who was born and raised on one of the many self sufficient farms on Beaver Island, and even the idea of living on a self sufficient farm is pretty amazing to think about. Russell was always proud that his great grandparents on both sides had come from Ireland. Russell was someone who could do a lot of useful things and in this day and age, that is pretty amazing too. He was the caption of the Beaver Island Ferry so we all knew him. Being a farm boy he knew how to grow a garden and we all looked forward to the summer days when we could buy sweet corn from the back of his pickup truck. My little story about Russell happened several years ago when he caught me buying perennials. He came up to me at the hardware store where I was buying an armload of perennials and in a playful way told me I should be buying vegetables, something you could eat. The next year I was again buying flowers and related the story to the woman who was waiting on me. She kept looking over my shoulder and finally I turned around and there was Russell, right behind me listening to me with a big smile on his face. It was a very funny little scene and gave everyone within hearing distance a good laugh.
            About the time I left for California Russell realized he wasn't feeling good and went to the Doctor who told him he had about two weeks to live and Russell was gone 12 days later.
            I'm telling you about Russell's last days because they were just remarkable and I'm telling you about the funeral because Beaver Island funerals are so very different than anything I'd ever experienced before moving here. All eight kids came home and stayed for the whole ordeal, as did the grandkids. Russell took to ferry off the island, picked out his casket, made all the arrangements and paid for everything. He stopped by our little bank to cash a Treasury Bond telling Cathy, our teller and also a great quilter, that he knew he was going to lose money by cashing it out early but that he didn't have time to wait.
            Not one to listen to telephone sales pitches, his kids were shocked to see him listening patiently to a long sales pitch on the phone and when it was finally over he said..."sounds good, call me back next month."
            The Boat Company let Russell take the Beaver Island ferry out for the last time and everyone on the island was invited along. That was very special and moving for everyone.
            Russell died at home with all eight kids around him. They flew him off the island to the mortuary. That's how it's done here. Then he came back to the island on the ferry and when it came within sight of the island, all the available small boats went out to greet it and respectfully escort Russell into the harbor on his final ride. Friends and family were gathered on the dock as the ferry arrived. The casket was carried off the ferry and placed it in the back of a freshly washed pickup and driven slowly to the church with friends and family following along behind as the church bells rang.
            Then there were the traditional family wakes with mountains of food brought in by the community and plenty of Irish beer to wash it down with.
            The little church was packed with the overflow crowd standing on the steps and out in front. On the alter sat a formal floral spray and right next to it sat a big tomato plant in it's green plastic pot. Father Pat started out by saying that we'll never eat a tomato or an ear of corn again without thinking of Russell. He told about how Russell drove out to talk to his old friend Buddy Martin about his circumstances a week before he died and how once the conversation was over and Buddy turned to walk away, Russell called after him "Oh by the way Buddy, I won't be needing fuel oil this winter."
            Russell's youngest son gave the eulogy and did his father proud. He told some very funny stories about Russell. He said he was sure his Dad would want him to remind us all of how Russell had shot 500 squirrels in his garden the year of the "Great Beaver Island Squirrel War" which of course, we all remember.
            As Father Pat prepared communion he said that Russell had made the bread and the wine. Irish songs were sung.
            After the funeral everyone went out and got in their cars to go the cemetery. Russell's casket was on a flat trailer pulled by a pickup. It was draped in the flag as Russell had been in the Korean War, and behind the casket sat the formal floral spray and the tomato plant. Next in line was another pickup full of grandkids with the tailgate down and almost dragging the ground due to the number of kids it was carrying.
            There were certainly tears, but the whole thing was truly a celebration of Russell's life. And I wind this story up with the prayer that was in Russell's funeral program.

An Irish Prayer

May those who love us, love us;
and those who don't love us,
may God turn their hearts;
and if He doesn't turn their hearts,
may he turn their ankles
so we'll know them by their limping.

Goodbye Russell, you did good and it was great knowing you. I'll think of you every time I buy flowers instead of vegetables.

------------------------

I've been home this spring for the longest stretch in many years and I have been just enjoying it like crazy. I've been busy working on some new quilts and working outdoors as well. I finally got around to planting apple trees: a Wolf River and a Northern Spy, both old varieties and great pie apples. I got so enthusiastic about it that I am now clearing some of my land in preparation for starting a little apple orchard and imaging how fabulous it will be when I can look out my windows and see the orchard in bloom. And then there will be the pies... oh the pies. Anyway, I'm loving being home and thought I'd just share some pictures of my house and the grounds close around my house with you.

Gwen Marston's
Liberated Quilting Page

...NEWEST BOOK !! --- get your copy from Gwen

At Home and On the Road With Gwen

...Gwen Marston Quilt Designs on Tile

New Zealand Quilters

Gwen Marston's Liberated Quilting Page

...NEWEST BOOK !! --- get your copy from Gwen

At Home and On the Road With Gwen

...Gwen Marston Quilt Designs on Tile

New Zealand Quilters

Gwen Marston's
Liberated Quilting Page