Among my favorite dolls were the 8-inch Vogue Ginny dolls. I had two, and they are associated with favorite memories. I received my first Ginny when I was about 4 years old, the “what-did-you-bring-me?” gift from Mother and Daddy when they went to Spokane. Ginny had dark hair and was dressed in a yellow skort and a long-sleeved yellow T-shirt that said “Ginny” all over it. I think she had roller skates.
Sometime after receiving the first Ginny, I stopped in unannounced at my Grandma Portfors’ house. I opened the front door and called to her and she made a cry of surprise. She was sitting at the dining room table with scraps of fabric. She made as though she were hastily covering something. As I came near her, I saw little “Ginny” feet sticking out under a scrap of fabric. Even to my five-year-old mind, it looked quite contrived. It would have been easier to cover those little feet than not to cover them. But Grandma feigned ignorance – would not acknowledge the feet or tell me what she was doing. Not long after, Grandma had a stroke and did not recover. I came down with the measles the same day she died and was confined to an upstairs bedroom due to all the arriving relatives. I remember Mother smiling at me through tears, and I remember she went to Grandma’s house and came back with that “Ginny.” Grandma had made her a nightie and robe by hand. I recognized the fabric and knew I had caught her in the act.
How very poignant that whole experience seems to me – my grandmother playing a little trick on me and then leaving us and my mother wisely allowing me to have the doll when it would most reinforce my memory of Grandma. This is my only clear memory of Grandma. Mother said later that Grandma wanted me to have the doll. “Why do we have to wait for Christmas?” she argued. “She knows about it – you just as well let her have it.”
Sometime after receiving the first Ginny, I stopped in unannounced at my Grandma Portfors’ house. I opened the front door and called to her and she made a cry of surprise. She was sitting at the dining room table with scraps of fabric. She made as though she were hastily covering something. As I came near her, I saw little “Ginny” feet sticking out under a scrap of fabric. Even to my five-year-old mind, it looked quite contrived. It would have been easier to cover those little feet than not to cover them. But Grandma feigned ignorance – would not acknowledge the feet or tell me what she was doing. Not long after, Grandma had a stroke and did not recover. I came down with the measles the same day she died and was confined to an upstairs bedroom due to all the arriving relatives. I remember Mother smiling at me through tears, and I remember she went to Grandma’s house and came back with that “Ginny.” Grandma had made her a nightie and robe by hand. I recognized the fabric and knew I had caught her in the act.
How very poignant that whole experience seems to me – my grandmother playing a little trick on me and then leaving us and my mother wisely allowing me to have the doll when it would most reinforce my memory of Grandma. This is my only clear memory of Grandma. Mother said later that Grandma wanted me to have the doll. “Why do we have to wait for Christmas?” she argued. “She knows about it – you just as well let her have it.”
[Ginny and Mary -- 53 years later. Mother made their matching dresses. Like little girls of the 1950s, they are patiently looking forward to new dresses -- possibly new shoes.]
2 comments:
That was a good one! Got my eyes all watery. I guess you'd better be starting on the book. You're just as good as Mama's Bank Account!
Not quite that good -- I still have trouble saying, "It was good -- all of it," though I admire Mama tremendously for doing so. Grandma left us suddenly and it was traumatic. She was 69 when she passed; Grandpa was 80 and he would live another 16 years. The siblings have better memories of her. Harriet was 25 and expecting L.J., Joni and Chuck at U-I, Nina just graduating from high school.
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