CHERISH YOUR INNER CHILD

You know, one of the great things about being grown up (and beyond) is that you get to spoil your inner child. I believe there really is a second childhood when you have time to better the world by being the best child you can be – not childish but childlike. I have decided to cherish the child in myself by indulging my love of dolls. I’ll start with the ones I already have and see where that takes me.

If I were to be a genuine collector of dolls (or a collector of genuine dolls?), a couple of problems come to mind immediately: 1) This modular home in Clarkston is the closest I can come to a controlled environment appropriate for doll storage, and 2) my dolls are not only vintage (1950s) but used. “I’m sorry I let the little girls play with your dolls,” my mother would say from time to time. And I would say, “It’s okay, Mother. I played with my dolls, too.” They are not pristine collectors’ dolls but I like them anyway. So I have decided to look them over and maybe fix them up, but right now I just enjoy thinking about that process. (I have a few other things to do.)

The first place to go for information is, of course, the internet, and I have found some history there for several of my “generic” dolls. Christmas 1954 I received a 20-inch bride doll. I remembered my mother telling me that because I was still young (5) and she knew I would want to play with the doll, she had purchased an inexpensive one from a magazine ad. Through online research I found such an ad. The doll and her wedding dress are a little different than mine, but the garments shown in the trousseau were the same. She was apparently distributed by Niresk Industries through magazines.

Then, in 1955, my Christmas doll was a ballerina. I remember her name was Nina Ballerina. Again, I found this particular doll had been distributed through Niresk Industries magazine ads. She’s an altogether better doll than the bride and probably deserved better treatment than she got although she is not a name brand doll. Her tutu needs repair – and heaven knows if I still have her shoes and leggings.

Well, you can see it all sort of gets me where my guilt is. My larger dolls are in a “Samsonite” box in the shed. My family of 8- to 10-inch dolls and my shelf dolls are stored here in the house. Some people would have given these childish things away long ago, and perhaps that’s the wisest thing to do.