Welcome to The Club v4.1 Winter 2023/24

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THE Club
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I’ve always loved dolls. Perhaps having
two siblings six and ten years older than
me who enjoyed having friends their own
age, or having nearby cousins who were
boys that played boy type games was an
influence on my young life.
Although my beloved dolls have long
since gone from the scene, I can imagine
them all sitting there in the playroom, as
I recall the names that I gave them.
The very first doll I remember having
was made from a few scraps of my
mothers oil cloth table cover. Not cuddly
and pretty but durable to my rough
handling.
One wonderful day, my brother bought
me a small hard bisque boy doll, with a
few cents he had earned selling corn in
Watford with my Dad. I named him Allen.
He was my constant friend. Alas,one day
when I was playing in the field while my
parents were hoeing, a storm came up.
A Love Affair With Dolls
by Maxine Miner • from Daytripping, Nov-Dec 2002 issue
As we were heading for the house in the
horse and buggy, I recalled Allen had been
left behind. Dad ran back for him, and his
pretty face was all blistered and wet, but
I still loved him anyhow.
Come Christmas, Santa left me a lovely
doll with a soft cuddly
body and beautiful curls.
That was Allie. She was
never as pretty after I cut
her hair playing barber.
Later there was Peggy
and Donald. And then two
bigger dolls handed down
to me by older girls. One,
being Dorothy, would cry
and had a molded loop on
her head, to tie a ribbon in.
Best of all was Beatrice, an Eatons beauty,
now a very sought after antique. She had
a real china head, eyes that opened and
shut, and small pearly white teeth. Her
arms and legs were jointed and she had
real hair. Unfortunately Beatrice met a
sad end when a visiting
little boy upset her from
the rocking chair where
I’d left her, and her lovely
head was shattered in
many unmendable peices.
Another Christmas
brought Topsie, a dear
little black doll with braids
made of yarn tied with red
ribbons to match her lace
trimmed dress. She made
a long trip via train with me to visit an Aunt
and Uncle near Winnipeg when I was six.
My last doll was a Wettums, who lived
up to her name by the wetting of her little
panties after being given a bottle of water.
I guess I was growing up then, as I never
gave her a name.
Each year Christmas finds me roaming
through the stores to check out the new
selection of dolls. I must admit Barbie
and Ken really don’t excite me with their
proper, little stiff bodies. I’ve sewn a few
clothes for them and found them too
painstakingly small - I much prefer my
creating of Raggedy Ann and Andy for
little arms to carry over the years.
I thought I had almost gotten beyond
my love affair with dolls, but when a dear
friend presented me with a beautiful Anne
of Green Gables for my seventy year
birthday, I realized I may be going back
to my second childhood after all.
P A G E
4
Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.
WINTER 23/24