Thursday, March 20, 2008 12:41:34 PM
Giving a piece of herself
By Erik Lacitis
Seattle Times staff reporter
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
An Iraqi war veteran, Sgt. Kevin Summerbell, covers himself with one of Sue Nebeker's quilts after surgery at Madigan Army Medical Center in Tacoma. Summerbell, who was shot in the arm in Iraq, had surgery to implant a plate in his arm. The sergeant uses the blanket at night. It gets a bit cold, he said.
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Sue Nebeker works on a quilt for Nancy Sides, of Yakima, who lost her son, Dustin, a Marine who fought in Iraq.
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Sgt. Ryan Clark; his wife, Heather; and their sons, 22-month-old Alexander and 5-year-old Garrett, use the quilts from American Hero Quilts at their Fort Lewis home.
Related
Sometimes Sue Nebeker wonders if it's worth it. She has worked seven days a week, for the past four years, on the 3,000 quilts her group has sent out.
They're mostly given at Madigan Army Medical Center in Tacoma to injured soldiers coming back from Iraq or Afghanistan. Sometimes she wonders if the quilts matter that much to them.
"Sometime I get burned out and wonder about what I'm doing," said Nebeker, who lives on Vashon Island.
At times, her emotions overwhelm her — all those wounded soldiers, and all their families whose lives have been upturned.
Then Nebeker has a good cry, often in the company of Sue DeWalt, another Vashon resident who's one of the volunteer mainstays of American Hero Quilts.
"We just cry together, and then get up, and start working again," DeWalt said.
Nebeker remembers a phone call last year from a young veteran, who was in obvious emotional pain. Nebeker talked to him at length, she said, telling him he had value to himself and to his family.
She didn't know what happened to the young man after their conversation ended, she said. But a week later, said Nebeker, a woman contacted her, saying she was the mother of a young soldier who had killed himself. His last phone call had been to Nebeker, and remembering it brings her to tears.
Nebeker estimates each of the American Hero Quilts takes 45 hours to make.
At 3,000 quilts, that's 135,000 hours of labor that includes washing, ironing and lots of sewing.
Some 400 people help sporadically, and 30 are hard-core volunteers, she said. Some live on Vashon, but others are from around the country, these days connected through www.americanheroquilts.com.
The basement of her home is filled with quilting supplies, including a 14-foot, industrial-grade quilting machine, and the finished product.
There isn't much white fabric in the quilts, not when they might cover open wounds. And no fabrics with "sparkles" are used, as they might flake off into a wound.
And no anti-war or religious messages, as Nebeker has no idea who might be the recipient. Such messages are sewn over with a star.
Sometimes the answer to whether it's all worth it comes in a phone call or a letter or an e-mail from those receiving the quilts.
Here's an e-mail from Heather Clark, wife of Sgt. Ryan Clark, 28. The Clarks and their two small boys live in base housing at Fort Lewis.
He's had about a dozen surgeries — he's lost count — since his left leg was mangled on June 2, 2007, when his Stryker vehicle was hit in Iraq by an improvised explosive device.
"The quilt he received was just beautiful ... it has touched him dearly," wrote his wife. "The quilt is used every day, either by my husband or one of our children when they need an extra hug."
Most of the quilts have been given to injured soldiers arriving at Madigan. It's a ritual that takes place right at the beginning of their check-in. Each has the label, "You are our hero. Thank you."
An additional 200 quilts have been given to children of soldiers injured or killed in the war. The quilts have this simple message stitched on them: "Child of a Hero."
And about 300 quilts have been given to families of vets who've committed suicide.
Reading about one such soldier made Nebeker start the quilt project.
The newspaper story told of a 22-year-old Marine who grew up in Ephrata and served in Iraq. He returned home a troubled man, with financial problems and his marriage fallen apart. He hanged himself in his Renton apartment.
History around quilting
Nebeker, 58, has been quilting all her life.
"I threaded my first needle when I was 5," said Nebeker. "There is a long, rich history around quilting. Lots of times, when times are bad, people cut up old clothing and make quilts, to keep people warm."
She's now retired after being co-owner of a business that provided residential support services to the disabled. Her husband, Clark, was a human-resources manager at Boeing. He knows how much the quilts mean to his wife and doesn't mind that half of their home is devoted to them.
Originally, making the quilts was supposed to be a one-time project.
Nebeker put up posters around the island about a "Quilt-A-Thon" at the local Methodist church on Sept. 10 and 11 of 2004, commemorating Sept. 11.
She set up 20 sewing machines in one room.
More than 100 people showed up, mostly women, some having no idea of how to quilt. But they learned, and they could help with such chores as ironing. Nebeker had to borrow a dozen more sewing machines.
That weekend, 100 quilts were made, and Nebeker later delivered them to Madigan.
"I thought 100 quilts would last a long time," she said. "They said, 'When are you coming back?' "
A reminder of home
One of those recently receiving a quilt at Madigan was Fort Lewis Sgt. Kevin Summerbell, 23, of the 4th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, 2nd Squadron of the 1st Cavalry.
Around midnight of Feb. 28, on a mission in Iraq searching for an insurgent, Summerbell was shot above the right elbow, fracturing the bone. After surgery at Madigan, in which a metal plate was put in, he expects his right arm to be a couple of inches shorter.
This was the second quilt he was given; Summerbell got the first at a hospital in Germany.
That quilt now is with his wife, Rae Summerbell, also 23.
The sergeant uses the second blanket at night in his room at Madigan. It gets a bit cold, he said.
"They're kind of comforting," he said. "They remind of you of home."
Nebeker has vowed that her group will keep making the quilts until the last wounded soldier from Iraq or Afghanistan comes home to Madigan.
She already has made that quilt, a beautiful comforter with the border made entirely of tiny American flags.
She knows that waiting for confirmation of that last wounded soldier could be many, many years away, if such a confirmation is even possible.
"I didn't expect wars to go on this long. But I'm going to be here," she said. "I made a commitment."
By Erik Lacitis
Seattle Times staff reporter
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
An Iraqi war veteran, Sgt. Kevin Summerbell, covers himself with one of Sue Nebeker's quilts after surgery at Madigan Army Medical Center in Tacoma. Summerbell, who was shot in the arm in Iraq, had surgery to implant a plate in his arm. The sergeant uses the blanket at night. It gets a bit cold, he said.
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Sue Nebeker works on a quilt for Nancy Sides, of Yakima, who lost her son, Dustin, a Marine who fought in Iraq.
KEN LAMBERT / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Sgt. Ryan Clark; his wife, Heather; and their sons, 22-month-old Alexander and 5-year-old Garrett, use the quilts from American Hero Quilts at their Fort Lewis home.
Related
Sometimes Sue Nebeker wonders if it's worth it. She has worked seven days a week, for the past four years, on the 3,000 quilts her group has sent out.
They're mostly given at Madigan Army Medical Center in Tacoma to injured soldiers coming back from Iraq or Afghanistan. Sometimes she wonders if the quilts matter that much to them.
"Sometime I get burned out and wonder about what I'm doing," said Nebeker, who lives on Vashon Island.
At times, her emotions overwhelm her — all those wounded soldiers, and all their families whose lives have been upturned.
Then Nebeker has a good cry, often in the company of Sue DeWalt, another Vashon resident who's one of the volunteer mainstays of American Hero Quilts.
"We just cry together, and then get up, and start working again," DeWalt said.
Nebeker remembers a phone call last year from a young veteran, who was in obvious emotional pain. Nebeker talked to him at length, she said, telling him he had value to himself and to his family.
She didn't know what happened to the young man after their conversation ended, she said. But a week later, said Nebeker, a woman contacted her, saying she was the mother of a young soldier who had killed himself. His last phone call had been to Nebeker, and remembering it brings her to tears.
Nebeker estimates each of the American Hero Quilts takes 45 hours to make.
At 3,000 quilts, that's 135,000 hours of labor that includes washing, ironing and lots of sewing.
Some 400 people help sporadically, and 30 are hard-core volunteers, she said. Some live on Vashon, but others are from around the country, these days connected through www.americanheroquilts.com.
The basement of her home is filled with quilting supplies, including a 14-foot, industrial-grade quilting machine, and the finished product.
There isn't much white fabric in the quilts, not when they might cover open wounds. And no fabrics with "sparkles" are used, as they might flake off into a wound.
And no anti-war or religious messages, as Nebeker has no idea who might be the recipient. Such messages are sewn over with a star.
Sometimes the answer to whether it's all worth it comes in a phone call or a letter or an e-mail from those receiving the quilts.
Here's an e-mail from Heather Clark, wife of Sgt. Ryan Clark, 28. The Clarks and their two small boys live in base housing at Fort Lewis.
He's had about a dozen surgeries — he's lost count — since his left leg was mangled on June 2, 2007, when his Stryker vehicle was hit in Iraq by an improvised explosive device.
"The quilt he received was just beautiful ... it has touched him dearly," wrote his wife. "The quilt is used every day, either by my husband or one of our children when they need an extra hug."
Most of the quilts have been given to injured soldiers arriving at Madigan. It's a ritual that takes place right at the beginning of their check-in. Each has the label, "You are our hero. Thank you."
An additional 200 quilts have been given to children of soldiers injured or killed in the war. The quilts have this simple message stitched on them: "Child of a Hero."
And about 300 quilts have been given to families of vets who've committed suicide.
Reading about one such soldier made Nebeker start the quilt project.
The newspaper story told of a 22-year-old Marine who grew up in Ephrata and served in Iraq. He returned home a troubled man, with financial problems and his marriage fallen apart. He hanged himself in his Renton apartment.
History around quilting
Nebeker, 58, has been quilting all her life.
"I threaded my first needle when I was 5," said Nebeker. "There is a long, rich history around quilting. Lots of times, when times are bad, people cut up old clothing and make quilts, to keep people warm."
She's now retired after being co-owner of a business that provided residential support services to the disabled. Her husband, Clark, was a human-resources manager at Boeing. He knows how much the quilts mean to his wife and doesn't mind that half of their home is devoted to them.
Originally, making the quilts was supposed to be a one-time project.
Nebeker put up posters around the island about a "Quilt-A-Thon" at the local Methodist church on Sept. 10 and 11 of 2004, commemorating Sept. 11.
She set up 20 sewing machines in one room.
More than 100 people showed up, mostly women, some having no idea of how to quilt. But they learned, and they could help with such chores as ironing. Nebeker had to borrow a dozen more sewing machines.
That weekend, 100 quilts were made, and Nebeker later delivered them to Madigan.
"I thought 100 quilts would last a long time," she said. "They said, 'When are you coming back?' "
A reminder of home
One of those recently receiving a quilt at Madigan was Fort Lewis Sgt. Kevin Summerbell, 23, of the 4th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, 2nd Squadron of the 1st Cavalry.
Around midnight of Feb. 28, on a mission in Iraq searching for an insurgent, Summerbell was shot above the right elbow, fracturing the bone. After surgery at Madigan, in which a metal plate was put in, he expects his right arm to be a couple of inches shorter.
This was the second quilt he was given; Summerbell got the first at a hospital in Germany.
That quilt now is with his wife, Rae Summerbell, also 23.
The sergeant uses the second blanket at night in his room at Madigan. It gets a bit cold, he said.
"They're kind of comforting," he said. "They remind of you of home."
Nebeker has vowed that her group will keep making the quilts until the last wounded soldier from Iraq or Afghanistan comes home to Madigan.
She already has made that quilt, a beautiful comforter with the border made entirely of tiny American flags.
She knows that waiting for confirmation of that last wounded soldier could be many, many years away, if such a confirmation is even possible.
"I didn't expect wars to go on this long. But I'm going to be here," she said. "I made a commitment."
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