Thursday, June 22, 2006
The quilter sat by the open window at the old Rutledge Tavern in New Salem, Illinois. It was warm and the humidity created an oppressive blanket of air that seemed to cling to everything like a damp wool blanket. I wondered how she could abide the cap and the seemlingly endless yards of fabric that made up her period costume.
The information at the visitors center contained much speculation as to the truth about Abraham Lincoln's love for Anne Rutledge, whose father owned this tavern. It's odd to stand in this spot and realize that you are separated from these people - not by space, but time.