Remember the days of front porches, when people strolling through their neighborhoods would be invited up onto the porch of their neighbors for a glass of lemonade or a warm cup of coffee? They would share news about the family, funny stories, and inevitably family histories. And if any of them were quilters, eventually a conversation would piece its way towards quilts.

Well, this is the essence of John Rice Irwin's book, A People and Their Quilts. The neighborhood he takes us through is mostly nestled along our Appalachian Mountains, stretching from Western Virginia and West Virginia, into Tennessee, and touching Kentucky. He introduces us to a whole book full of colorful characters, and with his "back porch conversation" style, these strangers quickly become friendly acquaintances and familiar friends. Some of them live on property that has been part of their family's homestead since before the Civil War. Some of them remember working in the coal mines and having to shovel the coal to the mouth of the mine because there was no rail car to move the coal. Some of them still live in the log cabins they grew up in. Others live in newer homes or homes they renovated. But the one thread they all have in common, is that their lives have been touched by quilts. Quilts for utilitarian purposes, now so worn they have become blankets for dogs. Quilts made as heirlooms, so guarded that, of the trunkfuls, only one is revealed and shared for a picture. Quilts made by hand, by love, by necessity (one woman had to keep 26 children warm!), and by the need to make something colorful, useful, and to leave a piece of oneself behind. Quilts they made, or quilts their mothers made from scraps of clothes, feed sacks, or from the scraps leftover from other quilts that had already come into being. They used old blankets for fillers, or wool, or snippets. One man remembers helping to card cotton for his mother to spin, which she then wove into fabric to use for her quilts' backs. Each quilt was batted with 2 pounds of cotton.

The quilts referred to and the quilters who made them are always spoken of with a tone of admiration, a touch of awe, an appreciation for the artistry, creativity, resourcefulness and industry employed. Like a frequently handled quilt, a few of the stories are nearly worn through, lack a few details, and some of the colors have faded in time and memory. Yet they lack none of their neighborliness, none-the-less, and they still have the ability to help us reach i! nto the past and touch calloused fingertips with those quilters who have gone on before us. Some of the stories reveal old traditions, others charity, and still others a way of overcoming handicaps or hardships, or a means of holding on to a departed loved-one. The pictures in the book are a balanced mixture of color photos and black and whites. In some cases it may seem a little disappointing that we don't get to see a quilt in all its colorful glory, but we have to relent that the black and white photos add to the rustic flavor the book endeavors to achieve...sort of hickory smoked.

So, if you have been working on a quilt that has been giving you fits and you are ready for a break, maybe it's time to take a stroll. Take a walk through the neighborhood Irwin has created, maybe sit on a porch for a minute or two with a cup of coffee or a glass of lemonade, and link arms with other quilters from now and from the past. Hear their stories. In the spirit of true neighborliness, they will thread their way into your heart.