UNDER A MARGARET OGAARD(Rusty C. Winters) Under A Margaret Ogaard

Only a few members of my family have retained the Nobility established from our Family Crest, in the Hall of Commons, at Oxford University in London, England. I am not talking about my Mother’s Blood Line from England, but rather the Creative Sewing Talent Acquired and Polished near a small town in Northern Minnesota. I observed this talent every day of my life as a child and still Embrace all my Mother’s sewing memorabilia in my home. As a Member of that Elite Group from Beltrami, Minnesota and Oxford University, I am honored to use my Mother’s Quilts and Comforters as an emotional pacifier every day of my life.

As a child I remember the relentless Winter Storms of Northern Minnesota. The Blizzards lasted for three to five days, and the madness of the storm windows vibrating in the wind was rather scary to this youngster. I remember the drafty evenings, before crawling under my Mom’s Comforter and pulling it up to my eyes, with just enough room for air. As the Comforter warmed my body, the fear of the storm moved into the background, and the rush of Happy Things entered my mind, as I slipped off into the Land of Dreams. Waking up to the warmth under the Comforter was profound, and it wasn’t until a Voice said “Alan”, that I got out of the bed of Love that was so warm and heated by my Mother’s Quilt.

I joined the Navy in 1969 and had one heck of a time getting to sleep under that filthy, itchy, ugly, Navy Gray, Government Blanket over my Body. I did reach a Happy Crisis Day, when the Volume of Cadets training for the Vietnam War exceeded the Barracks Volume available; consequently I was asked to move off Base. The first night off base in my Southern Apartment, I went into town, called my Mom, and had a Quilt on an Airplane the next day. I remember the Mail Lady delivering the Package to our apartment and my statement to her was; ”At last I am going to rest and enjoy life”! Wonder what went through her Mind? The truth is, I was late for Reveille on the base two times in the next week because I could not get out from under my Mom’s warm Minnesota Quilt.

My family is endowed with the disease of sleeping under Mom’s Quilts. My Daughters were surrounded by Quilts; as were my Brother and Sister. As children, on our trips to the lake cabin, there was always a box filled with the Quilts in the trunk for the evening sleeps. Many nights, we endured a rain storm at the lake, with the patter of the rain drops that were tolerated from the bottom side of Mom’s Quilts. I do not remember a guest that we brought to the lake cabin, who spent the night, that did not state how well they slept under my Mom’s Quilts. We all take special pride in our memories of the Quilt Era and also the present day Comforter and Quilt experiences. When someone in our family begins a story about a Quilt, we all smile, our eyes twinkle, and we recognize the parameters of the loving sleep adventure.

My last trip to Montana Elk Hunting was enlightened by my Mom’s Quilt over my sleeping bag during a snow fall one night. The twinkling of the fire in the stove and a few pops of the burning fire, set the stage for one of my most memorable sleeps and dreams, at 6500 feet above sea level. Waking up the next morning, I recall the sound of my dog Polly sniffing with her head lain over the Quilt, wondering when her Peanut Butter Blue Bone was going to be served. The sleep was wonderful and the thoughts brought to light that morning have never been experienced again, under such loving conditions. Unzipping the tent to see three inches of fresh snow and no prints is an adventure we all seek, but looking over your shoulder to see the loving warm environment you had met the new day with, was the best reward a man could ask for.

At sixty seven years old I find myself getting into the Nap business about 1:00 P.M. each day. A nap under a Comforter made by my Mom is somewhat of an art form. Leaving your socks on and curling the end of the comforter under your feet is required. Pulling the comforter to eye level and then slowly letting it slide lower is step number two. Step number three is placing a small piece of the comforter between your legs and knee caps; squeezed, for comforter stability. Step four is the deep breath, fostered by a tint smell of Mom’s sewing thimble, and then a drift off into dream land. I have never heard a complaint or negative comment about a nap under my Mom’s Quilts or Comforters.

There is one phase of the adventure that is best described as a “Cat Nap”! Very often we Nobility arise from a nap and sit on the edge of our beds, and try to wake up. We yawn, lick our lips, rustle our hair, and scratch whatever! As we sit there; we ask ourselves if a “Cat Nap” might be in order, and just about always, we allow ourselves to lie back down for what we surmise to be a 15 minute eye resting period? Of all the Cat Naps I have taken I do not remember the inability to fall asleep, dream a great performance, which is later greeted by a wake up, with no guilt or feelings of denial and suspicion. We all justify our actions as necessary and very rewarding in our Dream World “Under A Margaret Ogaard”.

05/25/2014 – Author Rusty Winters
Copyright: © ACO00027 - 2014

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