Like Ripping a Band-Aid off of the Memory
Our family received a lot of really nice Christmas gifts this year. My favorite one was actually not intended for me -- it was a gift from my husband's great-aunt to my 21-month old daughter.
While cleaning her basement earlier this year she found a trunk that belonged to her long-passed sister, and inside was a real Raggedy Ann doll... as in a real, vintage, original Raggedy Ann. It was in so-so condition as she describes it and she lovingly restored it to it's near-perfect original condition and put it under the tree with my kid's name on it.
When my daughter opened it she could not have cared less -- she was buried in a pop-up fairy book that was also in the box -- but I immediately recognized this doll as the real McCoy -- I had received one from my parents on my own second Christmas three decades ago... I loved it till it was in shreds. It's still in my parents' house -- just a thread with a few red hairs left but so much history. I was transported immediately and without warning to my childhood in this pinafore-wearing, glass-eyed time machine. I think I cried for an hour and I know my husband and his family thought I was nuts.
Everyone except Auntie Phyl, I'm sure -- it had to have been as emotional for her as it was for me. To give such a deeply personal gift -- a gift of her sister's doll, the gift of her hours of care and restoration, the gift of part of her own family history -- well, that made me realize the greatest gift -- of family -- that I was given from the first time I met my husband's relatives. Auntie Phyl could not have known of my own Raggedy Ann doll, and yet she has restored a memory from her past, and recreated an exact moment from my past for my baby girl, who probably won't feel the real impact for another 30 years.
So yeah ... it was a gift for my daughter, but I think I'll just keep it on my bedside table for a few years... just for safekeeping...
While cleaning her basement earlier this year she found a trunk that belonged to her long-passed sister, and inside was a real Raggedy Ann doll... as in a real, vintage, original Raggedy Ann. It was in so-so condition as she describes it and she lovingly restored it to it's near-perfect original condition and put it under the tree with my kid's name on it.
When my daughter opened it she could not have cared less -- she was buried in a pop-up fairy book that was also in the box -- but I immediately recognized this doll as the real McCoy -- I had received one from my parents on my own second Christmas three decades ago... I loved it till it was in shreds. It's still in my parents' house -- just a thread with a few red hairs left but so much history. I was transported immediately and without warning to my childhood in this pinafore-wearing, glass-eyed time machine. I think I cried for an hour and I know my husband and his family thought I was nuts.
Everyone except Auntie Phyl, I'm sure -- it had to have been as emotional for her as it was for me. To give such a deeply personal gift -- a gift of her sister's doll, the gift of her hours of care and restoration, the gift of part of her own family history -- well, that made me realize the greatest gift -- of family -- that I was given from the first time I met my husband's relatives. Auntie Phyl could not have known of my own Raggedy Ann doll, and yet she has restored a memory from her past, and recreated an exact moment from my past for my baby girl, who probably won't feel the real impact for another 30 years.
So yeah ... it was a gift for my daughter, but I think I'll just keep it on my bedside table for a few years... just for safekeeping...
posted by Martha Who? | 5:08 PM
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