Thursday, March 11, 2010

CAN THIS DOLL BE SAVED?

It was August 1997. We were having a family reunion at our house in Lewiston. Our young grandchildren were there. Douglas was two and a half while Annie was 21 months. Suddenly Cindy, Annie's mom, appeared beside me in the kitchen.

"There's an old doll in the basement and Annie wanted to play with it so I put it where she can't get it," she said.

"There are no old dolls down there," I replied, "and nothing that Annie shouldn't play with."

"This looks like a very old doll," said Cindy, accentuating the "very old." "I just know Annie shouldn't play with it."

As soon as I could steal away from meal prep, I went to the rec room to see what Cindy was talking about, and there, up where little hands could not reach her, was Mopsy, the rag doll my mother made for me when I was not much older than Annie. For a few moments, the words "very old doll" rang in my ears. All of a sudden I saw my precious muslin doll through the eyes of someone else, and she looked old – "very old" indeed! The unspoken question was, Where does this leave me?

All of a sudden as I stood there, I was again three years old. "It's about time for your nap," my mother was saying. "I can read you a story – or we can work on your doll. What would you like to do?" I chose work on the doll, and that day Mother embroidered one of the doll's eyes. That this flat piece of cloth would develop into a doll I could hardly imagine. I'm sure my mother knew she was making a memory as much as a doll. My mother was like that.

As Mother was finishing the doll, Aunt Naomi came to visit Grandma Portfors, my maternal grandmother who lived just a block from us. Now, Aunt Nome, as we called her, was Grandma's aunt – Grandma's mother's much-younger sister. So, Aunt Nome was my mother's great-aunt, and my great-great-aunt – and we couldn't have asked for a better aunt. She was a kindly, unselfish individual with a good sense of humor – a good example of a "retro" woman.

Anyway, back to the doll. I think Mother wasn't too pleased with the way she turned out, especially her hair. She knew she hadn't gotten it just right. I took one look at the doll and named her "Mopsy." Mother was ready to be finished with the project, but Aunt Nome said a doll without clothes wasn't much good, and she set about to make Mopsy a wardrobe – all by hand without benefit of pattern, old-fashioned, and utterly charming. She made underpants, a nightgown and matching blanket, and a dress.

Well, I grew up and Mopsy continued to live at Mother's house. Sometime in my 20s I touched her and found her innards – foam bits – had turned hard and crunchy. Mother said we should re-stuff her. It didn't happen. As I stood in my basement in 1997, my mother having passed just months earlier, I sadly thought that I should be taking better care of Mopsy, but more years would pass before I would step up to it. That day came on a recent Saturday.

It was a lovely day, so I took Mopsy to the back stoop. I had my seam ripper and a plastic sack. It was necessary to remove her arms and legs from her body. Working carefully with the ripper, I opened seams and pulled the awful old yellow sand – the disintegrated foam – from the parts. The foam had caused a blotchy yellowing of her muslin body and underpants.

Once she was reduced to her basic parts, I washed them gently by hand. When the parts were dry, I then re-stuffed them lightly with polyester fiberfill, being careful not to stress her aging seams. Once her parts were stuffed, I carefully stitched the openings and re-attached her arms and legs.


Her hair was a particular challenge. Originally cotton rug yarn, it did not survive the washing process and I had to carefully snip it off. I studied online instructions as well as every sock and cloth doll pattern I owned before selecting a method and getting on with it. Now Mopsy's hair is Red Heart acrylic 4-ply yarn.


I could have just tossed her away, you know, but I couldn't bear to do so. For years I have cherished the desire to be a maker of sock and cloth dolls. The making of Mopsy inspired me all those years ago and her renewal marks the first of my own efforts.

9 comments:

Hallie said...

I think she cleaned up very nicely! I really like her sideways smile. It is interesting how things get dirty without our noticing. When I was in the midst of my painting project I decided to wash my drapes. They said dry clean only, which means little to me, so I hand washed them in the sink and hung them to dry. That sink water nearly turned BLACK! Drapes and dolls perk right up once clean!

Chris said...

What a wonderful story!! I agree with Hallie--I, too, love her sideways smile. Is the dress the one Aunt Nome made? You did a wonderful job of renewing her and I can tell she's happy. Your doll making has begun, and you probably chose the hardest way to start.

This story made me think of the endless hours we used to play with our dolls together. :-) Thanks for the memories!

Kathy said...

I didn't realize how well Mopsy cleaned up until I enlarged the picture of her pieces with the crumbled stuffing. She was quite yellowed and a lot of it came out. Through it all, she continued to smile her lop-sided grin.

Cleaning drapes is a problem. That's why I've given them up for blinds or shades. Cleaning them regularly takes the life out them. They might shrink even if you take them to the cleaners. It was brave of you to wash them, but I know it felt so good to have them clean.

I also thought that this project to renew Mopsy was the hardest way to start, Chris, but I wasn't reasoning that way. I had put off Mopsy's renovation for years and I needed to take care of this longstanding "buffalo." And since I saw her as a throw-away, I knew anything I did for her would be positive. In the end the project was a great confidence builder.

We had a good time with our dolls, all right. Do you still have your Tiny Tears? I've done some study and they say mine will barely last my lifetime. She's put away in a pretty box.

Kathy said...

Oh! I forgot to say that yes, Aunt Nome did make the nightgown that Mopsy is wearing in the pictures. I carefully hand-washed the gown and made a few minor repairs. Her other clothes are in a box on the farm. Her dress is the same style as the nightgown. My plan is to buy a pretty cardboard box to store Mopsy and her wardrobe.

Dr. Julie-Ann said...

Beautiful job! Doesn't it feel wonderful to give new life to things that are REALLY OLD? It gives me hope for the future for myself *grin* (Topic of conversation in class the other night was: "Wow! You're older than my PARENTS! *laugh*)

Kathy said...

Thanks for coming by, Dr. Julie-Ann. Your comment reminded me of the time 16-year-old Hallie went off to visit with a classmate. Upon arriving home she said to me, "Janie's mom is 32. I told her my mom was 32 when I was born." Momentarily taken aback, I then pointed out that while I envied Janie's mom her present youth, 16 was much too young for her to have become a mom.

I think one of the greatest things about being quite grown up is the mixing of people of all ages in community life.

And in a small way, Mopsy is an example. The doll was made by someone born in 1909 and her old-fashioned wardrobe created by someone born in 1879 for the benefit of someone born in 1949. Mopsy carries quite a legacy.

Doti in TN said...

I just found your blog in a search. The story of Mopsy caught my heart and teared my eyes. Huge smile Wow.
Thank you so much for sharing and saving her with us. Doti of DotisSpot.etsy

Kathy said...

Thank you for your kind words, Doti, and for letting us know you dropped by and enjoyed reading about Mopsy.

Toni said...

Definitely worth saving, Kathy. I can understand why it took you so long to take on the project - I'd be afraid of ruining it completely, but I guess by considering it a throw-away it takes the pressure off.

Note to Hallie - I washed a pair of drapes once that were dry clean only and they shrunk about four inches. I think I threw them in the washer, though. Anyway, lesson learned.