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| Tasha at the Kalamazoo Public Library with Mary Rife in the background |
Friends
at First Sight
In the fall of 1985, my good friend, Mary Rife, who was
the head of the Kalamazoo Public Library’s Children’s Room, told me that next
November, Tasha Tudor would be presenting during the library’s author’s
weekend. Mary had heard me describe my deep love for Tasha’s artwork and how as
a child, I had sought out any book that she had illustrated. In fact, before I
could read, I pulled picture books from the stacks, hoping to land on one of
Tasha’s creations. So following Mary’s announcement, I circled that particular
November weekend on my new 1986 calendar and daydreamed.
Mary also understood that the best way to provide me with
extra time with Tasha was to invite me to help prepare for the author event,
because being volunteer would allow me to attend a special tea and even be
included in an intimate luncheon. Because I live by the motto that
participating is more fun that merely observing, I reveled in being part of the
team who prepared for Tasha’s visit. Mary’s main request was for me to recreate
the pink and white quilt in A is for Annabelle, because a generous donor had
paid for a replica of Annabelle who would be on display in a section of the
children’s room. After I measured the doll bed, Mary and I chose a pink reproduction
calico and I pieced and quilted the top.
The day that Tasha arrived, I marveled that my arms
carried stacks of her artwork from Mary’s car into the library. The child who
had searched for her books now touched original illustrations that attendees could
purchase. After everything was in place for Tasha to speak that evening, Mary
and I picked up Tasha who lodged at a local bed and breakfast inn so that we
could take her to lunch.
Like any admirer, I babbled to Tasha about how much I
loved her illustrations and her lifestyle that reflected my family’s similar
values of farming and homesteading. She perked up as I described how John and I
had constructed several timber-framed buildings, including our house and a
large barn, and naturally, Tasha was interested in my large garden, dairy goats
and chickens. Over lunch, Tasha and I continued to discuss beloved varieties of
roses, our favorite seed catalogues, and even how John and I powered our home
with solar electricity. By the end of the meal, Tasha began hinting that I
should come visit her home.
The next day, John escorted me into a lecture room packed
with Tasha’s fans who listened to her tell stories about her life while
watching her draw. Because everyone shared a similar love, the audience felt
like a gathering of friends, and no one minded when we stood in line for over
an hour to have our books signed. We chatted about our favorite books and
marveled over how Tasha’s creativity overflowed in so many ways, from her
marionettes to her garden, to her old-fashion home. After Tasha signed my
books, I was stunned to read her inscription: “You must come visit me at my
home in Vermont.”
A special tea for volunteers and library staff followed
the lecture, and during that time, I questioned Tasha about what she had
written.
“Do you really want me to visit you?” To step into Tasha’
world was a gift that I had never imagined and could barely believe that she
had offered it to me.
“Yes, I do, and bring that handsome husband of yours. How
did you ever convince him to wear nineteenth century clothing?”
“It was John’s choice, partly because I could sew all his
clothes.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing both of you next spring.”
Then Tasha turned to chat with other guests.
And on New Year’s Day when I hung up our new calendar, I
had already circled the first weekend in June for our visit to Tasha Tudor, the
first of several that I made over the next decade.
