ANOTHER SKIMPY CHRISTMAS -- DAY 3

Ina's first home

 On the north side of the house and sheltered by the porch roof, Ina’s kitchen was a dark room. Built in 1917, her farmhouse had neither electricity nor plumbing. Heating was by cookstove in the kitchen, wood stove in the dining room, and fireplace in the living room. Even so, some neighbors still lived in their original cabins, and for the first 20 years here, Ina had, too. She was grateful for these solid floors and walls and a decent roof, even if the house was drafty.

Big floppy snowflakes were drifting down this morning, and the kitchen smelled wonderfully of fresh-baked gingerbread cookies when Jack came in from the barn to warm himself by the cookstove. He was just leaving for the barn again when Ina’s sister Bertha breezed in from the adjacent farm wearing her heavy black cloak and carrying her big velvet carpet bag. Ina poured coffee for herself and Bertha and set a plate of gingersnaps on the table. It was a taste of the Christmas their mother provided for them when they were young.

And then Ina related how Ethel and Sadie were coming for Christmas and that little Sadie was asking Santa for a baby doll. It was unfortunate, Ina went on, that a child sometimes comes up with a wish that’s out of reach.

“Out of reach?” questioned Bertha. “Why do you say so? We can do it somehow.”

Who is this “we,” wondered Ina to herself.
“But Bertha . . .,” she began aloud.

“Listen, Ina,” Bertha interrupted, “Christmas is special for children, and she won’t be a child forever. We used to make magic for the children. We just haven’t had call for it since they all grew up.” And with that she opened her old carpet bag and began to rummage through it. “It’s in here someplace,” she muttered; “I saw it just the other day.” Ina felt like Bertha was going to disappear head-first into that old bag. Finally, she came out with a delightful pattern for a stuffed baby doll.

Ina was reticent. “You’re saying I should make this doll? Do you think it would satisfy Sadie?”

“Of course,” said Bertha, “especially if Ethel prepares her – you know, tells her that Santa might not be able to bring a doll this year, not to expect too much, etc. Oh – and let’s see,” said Bertha as she again went headfirst into her bag. “I thought I saw . . . yes, here it is. This lovely pink knit will make a wonderfully soft doll. Now you’re all set.”

Pink knit? All set? Ina felt the old pre-Christmas stresses well up – Christmas coming, so much to do – gifts to gather, letters to write, cards to address, gifts to wrap, packages to mail, cookies to bake, planning the party, etc., etc., etc. She had really hoped to stand all the Christmas doings just fine, and now THIS! Bertha sensed her angst and hastened to reassure her. “Shirley will be home soon, and she’s such good help. I’ll help you, too, Ina. Make the doll, and then we’ll see about clothes for it. And I’ll help with the Christmas doings, too.”

Ina looked at the pattern again and felt new purpose rising within her. She began to warm to the task at hand. Yes, maybe she could make this doll. She’d better start right away.

As always, the first step was to read the instructions. Read everything before doing anything, I always say. So, in the quiet of the evening, by the light of the kerosene lantern, Ina studied the doll pattern and instructions. KW