Here it is Monday and I knew putting it off would be impossible because as I predicted to myself I would not be able to chose... 3 friends my mom and an Aunt have submitted their stories and each one has touched me in a special way... Here is the first one from my friend who is a writer and lives in New Jersey..
Here's a little memory of my doll, Alice...
by Jane Pedler
by Patty Bailey(my aunt)
I wasn't much of doll lover as a young girl. I really can't recall a favorite toy. But stories and books were my passion for as long as I can remember. When I was four years old, my mother read the book that started me on my addiction to fiction. It was "The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew" I can remember sitting on her lap, snuggled close to her chest with her chin resting on my head. I would her the finality in her voice as she finished a chapter and beg for just one more. With only a mild protest, she would turn the page and give in to my pleas.
I don't recall if it was winter or summer, indoors or out. But I can feel her chin and the warmth of her body as she spun the story that got me hooked. From the Peppers I progressed to the Bobsey Twins, Nan and Bert and Flossie and Freddie. Then came Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. The library was my home away from home. When I begged to read The Mutiny On The Bounty at the age of ten, my mother had to come to the library to check it out for me as it was in the 'adults only' section and the librarian wouldn't give in to my pleading.
To this day, I prefer a good book to any other type of entertainment. It comforts me to see the resurgence of reading among young people despite the techno gizmos that vie for the free time of today's youngsters. The Harry Potter books are proof that children can still lose themselves in make believe just as I did so long ago on my mother's lap.
When I was 3 and a half years old, our family had a good friend who was a photographer for our local town paper, the Oak Leaves. One day he asked my mother if I would come in for a photo shoot for the yearly fundraiser for the local Community Chest...well, when I knew that I would be having my photo taken with the Santa, from Gilmore's Department Store....I said YES! I remember when that very special day finally came along, and I woke up early just to get ready! I laid out my very favorite dress, and shoes...my Sunday best! When it was time to go, I ran up to my room to get my favorite doll to bring with me, my doll. Well, there was only one problem...poor Raggedy Ann's clothes were still in the washing machine...soaking wet! So, as you can see from this front page photo...Raggedy Ann went to the photo shoot all decked out in her "Birthday" suit! I loved her so much...that it didn't even matter that she wasn't even wearing any clothes!! As you can see, she was very well loved!
By Sandra Maxwell
My favorite doll was Eloise Wilkin's Baby Dear doll made by the Vogue Doll company. For my 5th birthday 1962 I received the very cute thumbelina baby doll made by Ideal. Although I loved Thumbelina with her sweet painted blue eyes and cupids mouth my heart longed for Vogues Baby Dear. Baby Dear looked very much like Thumbelina but had one distict difference. Baby Dear was soft and floppy. She did talk, move, burp or cry. She was pure and real. Baby dear molded into a 5 year olds arm like no other. Thumbelina had a knob on her back when wound would make her move and wiggle. I was not impressed. I was in near tears at the party as I longed for Baby Dear. I later told my mom of my true 5 years olds heart desire. somehow, magically, Baby Dear appreared safe and at home with me. Baby Dear made me feel like a real mom. I proudly held her for what seemed like hours and hours a day. She went everywhere with me. Today, I still have my Baby Dear. She is completely bald with only a sprig of hair left. She is ripped and torn with her soft cotton stuffing peeking out at various seams. Baby dear proudly sits among my doll collection in a place of honor. Her face, with her squinty painted blue eyes still melts my heart. When I pick her up I magically feel 5 years old again. The classic poem, oh backwards oh backwards oh time in thy flight Make me a child again just for one night, is so fitting as that is how I feel when I look at my dear baby dear. For just a mere moment I feel like a child again.
Sandra added this to her story: Baby Dear didn't talk, move, or cry. Hope it makes sense now.
The Goodfellows Christmas Dolls Story
by Joan Clancy(my mom)
I was a child of the Depression and one Christmas an organization called The Good fellows came to our house on Christmas eve and left presents for all four of us children. My sister and I each got a beautiful doll. I got Shirley Temple and she received Jane Withers. Both were popular movie stars at that time.I treasured that doll for many years and have always remembered that magical Christmas eve.
Cheryl Conklin's Doll Story-Aunt Mary Ann's daughter
When Cheryl was about six,, for Christmas she wanted a doll that could talk,, like Charley McCarthy did,,(as a ventriloquist) I looked everywhere for one,, and finally found one,, but it was a black doll. I got it anyway,, as I didn't want to disappoint her. When she opened the package,, her mouth just dropped,and she said,, mom, Santa thought I was a little black girl,, wonder why? and I said,, it doesn't matter dear,, it is still one like you wanted,, only a different color. She loved it very much,, and played with it constantly.