I’ve spent the better half of a decade telling dairy farming families’ stories – the ones of humble beginnings and great accomplishments, even those so tragic we wish for them to be untrue.
Some of the best stories are told not on paper, but through experiences lived, those passed down from generation to generation.
Not too long ago, I returned from the Finger Lakes region of New York with a story stowed away in my suitcase. It’s one filled with pride for a withstanding legacy in the dairy community and historic Geneseo village. One that now has a teeny tiny place in central Minnesota, all because of a quilt raffle at the Kingston cousin luncheon.
In a cozy farmhouse tucked away on the outskirts of the village, my husband’s aunt, Katie, hosted Kingston women for their annual gathering. The Kingstons are my husband’s paternal grandmother’s family. For the longest time, they gathered for large reunions at the home farm or a nearby park. The annual reunion dwindled as time took family members away from the village, and as the older generation has passed away. But four years ago, one cousin initiated a luncheon for the women of the Kingston clan, including daughters of the patriarch couple, cousins, granddaughters, great- and great-great-grandchildren, and in-laws traveling near and far.
It was a crisp fall day at Katie’s. The leaves crinkled as you walked across the lawn and the sun shone strongly through the windows of the home. Pictures were laid across coffee tables and buffets, and laughter swelled throughout the house as the Kingston women told memories of long ago as if they happened just yesterday. I even stumbled across photos of my late grandmother-in-law, Theresa, holding her son, Peter. The baby in her arms held a striking resemblance to my boys.
The Kingston women are bright, lively individuals who are nothing short of passionate for the way their ancestors lived and the traditions that carry on today. So, it came as no surprise when we all gathered in the living room before lunch and cousin Nancy Kingston Alzamora unfolded a homemade quilt with nods to the family legacy. This wasn’t just homemade in the sense that Nancy found a pattern, picked out the fabric and sewed it together before a long-arm quilter put the final stitches on. This was homemade, unlike anything I’d ever seen. Nancy thought of the design, found the fabric, and then cut and assembled the quilt following a pattern she was developing in her mind as she went. Every piece of fabric was placed with purpose and every stitch was done with a single needle and thread.
Gasps silenced the room as the quilt was passed around.
It featured a milk can embossed with “406,” the number associated with the Kingston Farms when producers would hand deliver their cans to the creamery each day. I’ve been told, Grandma Theresa was just old enough as a young girl to deliver the cans before the farm transitioned to on-farm pick ups. Sewn next to the milk can was a wooden bucket filled with cherries. At one point, the home farm also had a cherry orchard.
The memories this quilt brought up carried conversations the rest of the afternoon.
So, how did I end up with this family gift, you may ask? The person who traveled the farthest to the Kingston luncheon received the quilt. I beat my sister-in-law by a slim 43 miles.
Today, Kingston Farms is a staple in their community, showcasing a rich history in dairy farming with the promise of a future in the industry. It’s a privilege for my husband and I to share that story with our children in the years to come.
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