Memoir Monday: Jan 11, 1960

 Here we go again! 

" January 11, 1960                                                                                                Monday

One of those awful rainy days when you can't do much except sit inside and suffer through it. I spent most of the morning sewing on the machine. I patched several pairs of levis and such. I ironed after lunch until Charlie-Mike came home from school. Then we played baseball out on the walk. The destruction crew was working down at the corner and WW kept standing out on the porch smoking cigarettes and staring at us. He gives me a great big pain. I forgot to mention yesterday that I saw this interesting guy at Safeway in Prescott. He was a solid middle sized guy with coppery hair, tanned and dressed in reel-heeled boots, a Lee jacket and the tightest Wranglers I ever saw on anyone. We listened to a lot of classical music and then finally hit a western program on KFI. Quite a change from Grieg and Dance of the Hours and Beethoven to Ferlin Husky etc.  No one can ever say that I just like one thing. I'm not narrow minded anyway. I didn't eat much today. I am trying to obey my father! It's getting pretty bad when the mules are allowed to eat more freely than a man's kids. So long, Gaye."

Okay--definitely some explanation or discussion needed. First this was the year I was out of school, at starting with being banged up badly in a riding accident and then spending the rest of the year working with dad on training a bunch of mules and a few horse that he had contracted for and planned to sell, mostly for 'big bucks' which idea met with  moderate success at best. I was definitely totally into 'cowboys' and totally out of people--male type--my own age bracket. I'd been doing an adult cowboy's  work myself  and was sure I had nothing to offer my contemporaries and they had less to offer me. I had already felt a bit of a misfit and this year certainly intensified that. 

Who was WW? I really do not recall but apparently one of a crew that was gutting and reworking one of the more trashed out houses in lower Clarkdale. I think the last folks who had lived there left it pretty well destroyed.  

On the term 'levis', that was what all of us to include those my age group generally called blue jeans regardless of the brand. The ones I repaired may have been Sears or J C Penney's or some cast offs from my two male cousins in California that their mom sent for us to wear. I did use brand names in some cases as in describing what the guy in the store had worn. My mom did not sew well nor want to so I took over the machine and made it mine starting in about 8th grade. 

The day before we had all gone to Prescott to put an advertisement for Western Horseman magazine in the mail after a big push to get it done and there for a deadline. On the way home Charlie-Mike and I got a lecture about "temperance and self discipline" which made me say dad should have been a "Holy Roller preacher." Lectures were not an unusual thing and got much for frequent and harsh in the next several years.  I probably weighed 115-120 at that time and was the tallest I had measured--lost an inch or so later--at 5'7"+ and Charlie-Mike was a skinny nine year old. We hardly ate like hogs but were told we needed to be less greedy. So I almost hunger-striked for a bit. Yes, we did not have a lot of money but that seemed a bit extreme. I was edging closer to some serious rebellion! 

The photos: The top one is Trixie. In her winter coat she looked like a fuzzy toy and she had that cute Arabian slightly dished face. I expect her mom was an Arab mare. BTW that is my favorite little saddle she is wearing. It was so light even with the full mule harness attached that I could get it up on the taller ones easily. Trix was barely 14 hands. The next is a photo that probably appeared in the ad we went to mail. It shows Mom holding Blackie and Cinder, Charlie-Mike with Beano and me with Jupiter and Trixie. By the end of that season, Blackie, Beano and Jupiter had all been sold. 

Memoir Monday-January 4, 1959

This is kind of fun. I don't know if my readers agree, but maybe I am just doing it for me. You think? So anyway here is January 4, 1959 which was apparently a Sunday. 

Jan 4, 59: Shod Tina in the back. Rode up on the Cement Hills and just missed Bryants. Watched "Maverick" as usual. It was quite funny,. Another episode featuring both of them. Those I go for. Glory, I hate the idea of going back to school. I'm spoiled, I guess. Viva vacations!

So to clarify. I was fifteen and a sophomore at Mingus, the first year that Cottonwood and Clarkdale/Jerome were consolidated. I had somewhat picked up my old crush on a former classmate from my years at Willard School in Bridgeport as he was a senior that year. (Name deleted to protect the guilty!) but it was not enough to make me really enjoy school. I much preferred to be out with my horses or mules and exploring, free of the rules and routine that school demanded. 

Tina of course was my beloved mare. She was four now and a big strong mare who could scramble over the rough ground with the best mules. The Cement Hills were those big white hills behind Clarkdale where the "C" was painted and where they began to mine limestone for the plant when it was built and started. We accessed them roundabout since the old smelter yard was still securely fenced but could go up at either the west or east side of that. They were a good rough place to ride, challenging in spots. 

The Bryants were friends. He was an old cowboy/horse trainer and a real horse whisperer who taught me so much about riding and training--more by example than any effort at teaching but that as fine.  He had been raised in south western New Mexico but came to Arizona when young. He had little formal schooling and did not read or write much but oh, he was a genius with the equines. He did not drive so his wife drove him around in their little old car although he rode most everywhere he went.  He always had a horse or two and was usually breaking or training one. And most of them were for guys half his age!! He was probably early 70s at this time. One of my youth's heroes. 

And I was in my TV westerns phase. We did not have a TV so I watched at some friends' homes and was probably a nuisance!! Big faves were Maverick and The Rifleman. Had a huge crush on Chuck Connors. 

Photos: Me on Tina, charging up a hill. She was always full speed ahead and not at all fearful of rough ground. Next two feature Charley Bryant. One I am beside him standing by our truck and the other he is on a big palomino he was training. Then a general view of Clarkdale. Those Cement Hills are behind the last smokestack at the smelter which stood for a few more years. The last was probably my school picture for the 58/59 year. I had just started to insist on letting my hair grow. It was pretty long my senior year. And I took my glasses off for pix as I hated them!! I also did not smile often for a photo as I hated my overlapped front teeth.

Memoir Monday: Dcember 28, 1957

 To carry on with the idea I started last week. Two years made a lot of difference in the way I wrote and to some degree what I spoke about.  In 1956, I got the first really "my own horse" and she has now assumed a big place in my life! Chores were becoming a much bigger aspect too, mostly centering around the animals we had, the two old mares, a mule and my filly. I was now fourteen and in high school but was edging into  the 'cowboy girl' life and persona that I lived under for a good ten years. 

Dec 28: Got up medium. Usual horse chores. Ate breakfast.  Out to work. Sawed several logs. Went riding. Worked them out real good. When we got back Mom said Charles Ortmann had been by. I guess he got my letter. I hated to miss him. Poor guy, I guess he hated to miss Tina. Mom said he had on a red, white and blue shirt with the cuffs double rolled. No, no, no. Ate lunch. Papa left. Mike and I stacked wood. I did the horse chores. Came in and took a bath.Papa came home. Greenough was feeling pretty good. He had gotten my Christmas card and note and appeared to enjoy them. He is so lonely. I really feel quite sorry for him. I am glad I sent the card. Perhaps it cheered him a little. He is old enough to be my grandfather. Well, adios, Luz/Gayle/Peg/Tal. (I used a lot of nicknames!)

Okay, now for the 'splaing! Tina was the mare I got; she had come to me as an eight month old filly in February 1956 and was now two and half and by now was fairly well trained. Charles Ortmann was who I got her from. He was working as a cowboy at  the Miller Ranch and had supposedly been a concert violinist. I think health forced him to retire from that.  He was still very interested in how Tina was doing and I had a slight crush on him.  

By now I was making my own Christmas cards and sending them off to some of my heroes and friends.. Mr Greenough, a guest ranch operator and lion hunter, was a friend of Dad's.  I had a crush on him too even if he was, as I admit, old enough to be my grandfather--probably early 70s at this point. The wood mentioned was for the heating stove in the living room of the  house--we got our own fuel from a number of place and Charlie Mike and I were responsible for most of the cutting and bringing in work.  Apparently I did not think the rolled cuff idea was cool; that is all I can figure from that. Clearly Christmas had slid into past history three days afterwards although that year I had received some nice things to include a new hat and a nice work and study table that dad had made for me.

Now for a few pictures. The first is me and Tina , in the summer of 1957 when I had begun to ride her regularly. The next is me and my friend Evelyn Graves. She had borrowed a pair of my jeans to wear and we were going to go riding. Then the notorious Mr Greenough. An odd connection, Evelyn's older sister Shirley had worked for Mr Greenough at his ranch for a number of years and inherited part of it when he died. Dad had made the stock for the rifle he is carrying and given it to him as a gift. Dad did several very beautiful gun stocks and gave to friends and one for his own .257 which was later stolen and we never got it back.

Memoir--not-Monday

 I've been working on my memoir as a 'big project' this year since fiction and poetry just do not want to flow.  I suspect my muse has Covid-itis and maybe political allergies and has gone into a deep hibernation to try to recover. Anyway, even my urge to do essays be they a look at some past matter or a diatribe, has flagged a bit. Therefore since I do not want my favorite blog to wither I've sought a new inspiration. I started keeping a diary/journal on June 1, 1955. I had just turned twelve years old a month before and was a sixth grader at a small rural school where my dad was my teacher. 

So on December 22,  1955:  Didn't do much. No fun. Got a letter from Heidi. Went to the Xmas celebration in the park.

What does that recall?  At that age 'fun' is rather important so the absence of any was worth noting. Since school was several miles down the valley and none of my school friends lived nearby, I may have a been lonely. I did have a few local girl friends in Clarkdale having lived there for about two years at this point. Evelyn Graves and Arlene Blahnik come to mind. Perhaps they were busy elsewhere. I think Loretta Watson, my first Clarkdale friend, was gone by then and the two horses we had owned for about two years were pastured down near the school so I could not go riding.

Heidi was Heidi Carter, an early pen-pal. She was the niece of the Ireys who had a ranch across the river from Cottonwood and we had known them for awhile. Heidi lived in La Jolla, CA but had visited the previous summer when we met, two horse-loving girls who formed a friendship and vowed to keep in touch. We corresponded sporadically for quite awhile but I do not recall we ever met face to face again. 

The celebration in the park refers to the central park of Clarkdale which is perhaps a quarter acre square with grass and trees and a gazebo or band stand in the center.I really cannot quite picture the event but I think Santa was there and probably small treats were handed out to the kids. There was probably some music like a choir from a local church or some other group singing and maybe even the Clarkdale High band played.  Brother Charlie who had been born in November of 1951 was now four and I imagine I took him up town for the event. Our house was on Lower Main so it was maybe a half mile walk mostly uphill, to get to the park. 

So long ago! Memory is not too detailed from those days and the small notes I was keeping do not tell much that can awaken them. I can find a few of photos, so let me share them. 

In order of their appearance. Riding down at "the ranch"--20 acres the family had bought south of the area where the school was. I was riding Lady and dad was on Chindy with Charlie perched in front of him. I was already very much into horses!  The next shot is Heidi Carter and her brothers and their dog. She gave this to me as a keepsake. And last is yours truly; I think this was 4th or 5th grade but it was undated and looks a bit younger than I would have been in 1955, then twelve. I did not have any more school photos until the start of 7th grade. 

Sky Watching

 When did I become fascinated with the sky? It's been so long I cannot begn to pinpoint the date. I "always" loved sunsets and then when I was barely a teen the 'space race' began and I started to look for and at the satellites, the ones humanity added to those a Higher Power had given us. Also the moon, the stars, and now and then a UFO. 

Then when I was briefly an Air Force Historian I was assigned a project to write a history of the Spacetrack program to date (c: 1975). About the same time my late hubby gave me my very first astronomical telescope. Between those two 'chance' events, I turned a much more serious eye to the sky. I will never forget the first time I found Saturn in that scope. I gasped at the beauty and felt a sharp pang of sadness--it looked so far away and so alone out there in the big dark sky. 

For a couple of years I looked at many things with the scope and marveled at the accuity of the Baker-Nunn cameras that were one of the main devices with which the growing number of--and possible threat from--man made satellites were followed, catalogued and observed. Colorado was too cold to be out in the winter but I became friends with the summer sky and its constellations and the varying tracks of the eight planets that each marched to their own drummer. I also began to regret my stubborn and foolish rejection of math and science during my schooling because there was so much of astronomy  I had trouble understanding. To this day that gap bothers me but lacking the groundwork to build from it is hard to delve deeper into the celestial mechanics and other scientific aspects.

Then in 1977 we moved to north central California where the summer nights were the nicest time of the day and the cold did not set in nearly as early. Never much of a TV fan, I preferred to be outdoors from dusk to bedtime. My husband felt the same way. Almost all summer, to include the late spring and long fall, we spent most evenings in the front yard sprawled on a tarp looking up. Summers were very dry there so rain or even clouds rarely interfered with the view. I grew acquainted with more stars and more constellations and watched the bright fast 'stars' of the satellites zip across the sky. We counted them. I think once or twice we saw as many 25-30 in a night. At times we saw meteors and maybe once or twice space debris coming in, blazing as it hit the atmosphere. Once a glimpse of the northern lights, oddly red, that no one else ever noted anywhere but I am sure that was what they were. 

Then in 1983 we came back to Arizona and moved our watching to the back yard at our home in  Whetstone, just north of Huachcua City.  There was little light pollution in the area and viewing was fine though now summer evenings could be interrupted with lightning which we also enjoyed watching until it got too close.  I had gotten frustrated with the small, basically kid-level telescopes and especially the never-quite-steady mounts and tripods but the real good ones were too costly. Then we made friends with a guy who had an 8" Celestron that had become to heavy for him and his bad back to manage. I traded him a couple of my late father's professional level cameras and got that scope.  

Wow, a whole new universe! Oddly the scope featured a Schmidt-Cassegrain lens system, the same style of magnification that was the centerpiece of the Baker-Nunns. That was compact, efficient and made the scope itself very short for the power it had. The tripod was solid and the mount an engineering  wonder. We did a lot of looking with that instrument to include several eclipses and a comet or two as well as the stars and planets. 

From Wickapedia, an explanation of the system: The Cassegrain reflector is a combination of a primary concave mirror and a secondary convex mirror, often used in optical telescopes and radio antennas, the main characteristic being that the optical path folds back onto itself, relative to the optical system's primary mirror entrance aperture. This design puts the focal point at a convenient location behind the primary mirror and the convex secondary adds a telephoto effect creating a much longer focal length in a mechanically short system.^[1]

That scope was set up and we had watched a partial moon eclipse the night before Jim fell ill with the beginning of his fatal heart attack in November 2003. In a day or two I wrapped a tarp over the scope and it sat there for some time before I finally took it down. I really have only set it up once or twice since. Somehow watching alone is not the same and I no longer lie out on the grass looking up at night for the same reason. It's been seventeen years now. 

I always intended to set the scope up in Alamogordo for the eight years I was there but the light pollution locally was too much and the scope was getting heavy for me, too. When we got ready to move to Arizona in the fall of 2019, I disassembled the whole tripod and mount. It is still heavy and awkward but packed and shipped easier. For the most part our skies here in J-6 ranches are dark and unobstructed and I do go out and look up some evenings for awhile. The head meteorologist on KGUN TV that we watch always mentions neat astronomical stuff that he recommends folks look for.  I once kind of glimpsed this summer's comet but the clouds and Tucson glow made it hard to find. 

in time I may put my big scope up once more--if I can remember how it all goes together. The electronic tracker is too old now to calibrate for the current sky but that would not be a major issue.  And it will be willed to one of my grandsons or even great grands if they show an interest as it is still a fine instrument. 

I will never tire of watching the sky, and the memories I have made over the years will certainly go to the last breath with me. If there was nothing to look at but the sky I could be almost contented. The wonders and beauty and breathtaking fierceness of it all, the vastness, the curiosity--it all draws me very strongly. I cannot afford it but I would love to be on that first or even a later space ship trip that may be available to the public in the fairly near future. I envy the astronauts for that chance to look back at our planet from some distant point.  One little green, blue and white ball, third out from Father Sun... yes, I am definitely solar-centric and sun-powered but I know even it is just one small speck of light in that vast infinity. Who else may be looking back from their distant world and wondering about this one? Maybe we will meet on the other side.

Generations, names and birthdays

 I've often mentioned Celtic knots. Events and thoughts lately really seem to reflect that concept of space/time/connections!

Does anyone else have a birthday or two that keeps popping up in one's family? As far as I know this one started way back in 1909 when my aunt Ruth Morgan was born on Novmber 14. She was the immediate elder sister of my dad. Then on November 14, 1951 my brother Charlies Michael entered the world. Neither of us have any natural born kids but I married into the Walton family and got three second hand children. The youngest of the three is may daugher Jennifer. On November 14, 1990 the she a son who was named Jarrod William Hudson (her married name) Then on November 14, 2020 Jarrod's first cousin Julie Mayne (nee Walton), eldest son Malcolm's child, birthed another baby boy who has been named Caden Duncan Mayne. 

Names of course are less coincidental. Aunt Ruth's middle name was Alexandria which was a name known in Grandma Morgan's family, both the McCormacks and then in her mother line, the Haynies in both the female and male versions. It was passed to my baby brother born May 17, 1959  as his middle name although one he often went by as Zan when a kid and later Alex. His first name was Robert which was Mom's father's and her brother's. On the Morgan side there was a sequence of three Charles. Grandpa was named Charles Alva when he was born in 1878. His father's name was John so I am not sure where the Charles came from but of course it was passed to his first son who got Grandma's surname as his middle name, thus Charels McCormack Morgan. At times Dad also added the A. to  his name, apparently an affectation since it appeared on no ocuments. When my first brother came along both parents were against juniors but wanted to keep the initials at least so he became Charles Michael.There that lineage stops due to him having no children but the name was still woven into my life. Back to that in a minute.

On the Walton side, Jim's father was LeRoy Lightner Walton. When Grandpa Roy and his wife adopted baby Jim in 1930 they named him James LeRoy. I am not sure where the James came from since I know of none by that name in either of his parents' familiies.  When Jim's first son came along, he was named Malcolm AlRoy. Jim as a great Hibernophile or fan of all things Scots so the Malcolm likely came from that and the boy's middle name was the combination of his grandfathers: LeRoy and Albert. The second son, born on July 14, 1959, was named David Duncan Walton. While serving in Korea in the Marine Corps, Jim had met and been very impressed with David Duncan, the wartime photo-journalist correspondent who sent so much home from the front lines to Life magazine and other venues. David was named in tribute to that man, although both are good Scots names also.  Then on September 14, 1964 a daughter was born. Again a fairly popular name was chosen, Jennifer, but to keep the JLW  initals, Grandpa Roy's mother's family name of Lightner became her midle name. She used to win bets often since few could ever guess what that L stood for. Perhaps she still does. 

When his first son came along November 3, 1974, Jim's eldest Malcolm and his first wife named him Daniel LeRoy; the Daniel I think coming from a popular song of that time. Three years later daughter Julie was born and the middle L was kept though as Lynne rather than anything more exotic. Julie's first child was born on July 14, 2001, sharing that birthday with his Uncle David, and was named Julian LeRoy Walton. His biological faher had vanished so he was a Walton. Whether he will soon have a child to keep the JLW or not remains to be seen but he does have a steady girlfriend and approaching twenty now could settle down soon. And now Julie's newest has been tagged with the middle name Duncan. I do not yet know why that name was chosen. She and her uncle are not too close. 

Now back to Charles and also another link to Duncan. In 1964 when I met the first love of my life, his name happened to be Charles, too. I  learned that Duncan was his middle name and had been his adopted father's name as well. (Odd parallel here with both him and Jim being adopted and carrying their father's name as their middle name.) It was not to be, but I dreamed for a time of a son of ours to be christened either Morgan Duncan or Charles Robert. Due to many unexpected and disruptive events, our story did not have a happy-ever-after ending but I have sensed or felt that will come in another place and time. Who knows?

One more birthday story. Mine is April 27 and I found a number of years ago that I shared that date with Ulysses S. Grant (actually Hiram Ulysses before he modified it to be U.S., for reasons of patriotism perhaps). Anyway he was the North's leading general in the Civil War and then became President as a popular post-war hero.  I love a quote from him which I think exemplifies the Taurus determination we both share: "I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer."  Then in 1970 when I went off to my first real job as a trainee in Human Resources at Fort Huachuca, a fellow employee named Thomas Dower and I fell just short of becoming an item for a bit since the other new hires in our small group were married. His birthday was April 27, 1944, eactly a year after mine. What an irony, since he was a rabid and almost nonreconstructed southerner, that he shared a birthdate with President Grant. I did not know it at the time but would have rubbed his nose in it without mercy if I had!

At any rate I have a dear friend who says there's no such thing as coincidences yet my life seems to be overrun with them in dates, names and other strange patterns. That is why I say my ancient Celtic ancestors were onto something when they tried to graphically illustrate the twists, turns and entertwines of life and fate with their beautiful, elaborate and very complicated designs. It is, perhaps, no coicidence that my Guardian Angel's name is Dara, a word that defines the knotted "tree of life" shape widely used in Celtic iconography. 

 

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Sometimes a Tale...

has a happy ending. This one does and in the present world, that is something to rejoice over.

About a year ago, my younger grandson informed me he had gotten engaged and I met his sweet lady through Facebook. At 29, Jarrod was surely old enough to make a good choice and to know what he wanted. I approved totally. Then early in this year they announced they were 'expecting.' This was thrilling news and of course I was delighted when they asked me to make a special quilt or blankie for the little one. They did a gender reveal as soon as the ultra sound came through clear. The new baby was going to be a girl!

I talked with Kat a bit about colors and such and we agreed we both loved shades of purple and I suggested aqua/teal/turquoise went well in the mix. Next step was a virtual visit to my favorite fabric dealer, eQuilter.com in Colorado. I've been a customer for at least 12-15 years and most of my quilt projects have centered around their fantastic offerings. For this one I chose a fairy and butterfly theme which would be okay for a baby and better as she grew older. I was already in a sewing mode having just done two wall hangings for my brother, one for his music room, and one for his lady friend at the time in a Native American motif. When the new fabric arrived I could hardly wait to get started. 

The baby was due in August and I was determined to beat the deadline a bit. I took photos as I went along and shared some of them. I thought it came out really lovely and I even had enough pieces left over to do a little trave-wrap size one too. Then I found an old piece of fleece I had bought ages ago and never quite knew what to do with. Lilac with butterflies in darker purple, rose and white, it was about a 48-50" square and perfect for a blanket! I fringed the edges and it was good to go.  The three projects were duly packed in a box and sent off early in July by Priority Mail. Now is when it gets to the challenge or dark moment part of the story!

Unbeknownst to me, Jarrod and Kat found a new and larger apartment closer to his work and wanted to move before the baby arrived. Busy and rushed, they  had neglected to let me know. Then at the end of the move, Kat's blood pressure shot off the charts. Preeclampsia--a not uncommon but potentially dire pregnancy complication. She was hospsitalized at once and after about 36 hours of monitoring, the doctor decided to induce labor since both mom and baby were being endangered. That meant little Leia Rose made her entrance five weeks early on July 9. She had to stay in neo-natal ICU for a few days but thrived and soon was able to go home. What a relief (once I heard!!) 

I had begun to worry then since the expected "Oh wow" when the package arrived had not come! I texted and learned Kat was in the hospital and then the baby had been born. Time passed and still no package. There was some confusion since the relief mail carrier (at least I assume it was not the regular one) did not get word on the address change or something else went wrong. The package had supposedly been delivered to their old door but had fallen into a black hole. I wrote and they tried to get it tracked but it had just vanished. I was shattered and said I would try to do another when I could; meanwhile I had another (a major surprise) great-grand due later in the year and had to get a quilt done for it too--that mom did not do gender reveals or want to know in advance. 

Skip ahead a couple of months or more. Last week I got a hand written note in the mail from someone who lived at the old address where Jarrod and Kat had lived. He claimed to have a box and a large envelope of photos for them plus some other mail that had never been picked up. I got on line at once and texted them. "Hey, go get your stuff before he takes the package to a thrift store!" Visualizing my labor of love meeting that fate was appalling. The next day they rescued it!  And the "Oh wow" did come through. My sigh of relief probably echoed from here to Winston Salem! 

As of today, November 9, the other new baby has yet to appear but should be born this week. So I will soon know what quilt to make. I had gotten some unicorns and pegasi in purple and blue-green shades to try to redo Leia Rose's gift, so if this baby is a girl, that will be hers. I also got some western and horsey themed fabric which would work for a little boy. All I can say is what started well has ended well and at least this one odd little story has a happy ending! 

Daddy Jarrod will be 30 this coming Saturday and I am very happy for him and his lovely young family.There could even be another November 14 birthday which he already shares with Great Uncle Charlie who had shared it with our Aunt Ruth prior to her death some years ago. It is odd how some dates seem to run in familes. And yes, I am a real sucker for happy enedings! That is why I've been a life-long reader and writer of Romance and other genre fiction where the good guys always win and it's happily ever after or at least happy for now at The End. Life is not always that cooperative.  

Photos:  Little quilt front; Music Room hanging, Baby Quilt front; Baby Quilt back.