My Grandmother died on October 31, 1957, less than a month before my own birthday. So I never actually knew the amazing woman named Mamie Sala Bollman except through the story telling of my own mother. Fortunately, I come from a long line of story tellers.

My great-grandmother, Hattie Story Sala, wove rag rugs to support her family. By the time I came along little remained of this legacy. The house with the loom in the third story attic was sold shortly after my birth.

Sewing Carpet Rags: Because it's hard to read on the image. Here's a transcription of the poem by Harriet Whitney Durbin.

When my parents retired, they moved into a farmhouse in a very small town - a village really, except that we don’t have villages in California. The house had a barn. It was small by barn standards, and I don’t know if it ever housed any livestock - possibly some farm equipment.