Story Of A Wooden Doll

My time on this earth began in the early 1900's. I was a tree in the forest that was chosen to become a doll. 

The men who harvested my tree and made me into chunks of wood took it to the Schilling Doll Factory in Sonneberg, Thuringia, Germany. I was given to a master craftsman and he began looking at the piece of wood to determine what kind of doll could be made. The man with weather beaten hands picked me up and said, “I can see you now. He was getting an image but the image he saw was his own beloved 5 yr. old daughter Gretchen. He started to carve my head and he made it have an open area on the top so that he could send me down the line to have my brown glass eyes inserted. I could now see my predicament and looked at the hundreds of dolls that lay in various stages of being made into a complete doll. My master craftsman was interested in me personally as his little Gretchen had wanted a doll for a long time and this one was for her. He followed his doll down the assembly line directing her to be made with care. 

She was finally ready to be taken to the area to be dressed and he thought “how would my little one want her to be dressed?” He picked out a Volendam Dutch costume for the doll with the solemn face and thought how proud his little girl would be when he placed it in her arms.

He returned home with pride and could see his little girl standing at the door waiting his arrival after a long day at work.. His daughter could see that he had something in his hand, but had been taught not to ask questions about dolls that he brought home, because her mutter sewed clothes for the dolls sometimes and she thought this might be another of those times. 

 Her Vater ate his meal and talked of his day and the making of a special doll with brown eyes to match his own sweet one. After eating the humble meal, he gave the package to his daughter and said “this one”s for you”. Gretchen almost choked on her sausage as he said this because she did not dare believe that at last she too had a doll. As she unwrapped the brown paper that wrapped the package, she did not breath. When at last the paper was removed, she saw the doll that occupied her dreams.  Her face was so like her own with big brown eyes like hers. She did not have hair so she asked her mutter to cut her long brown hair to place in the dolls head to make her a wig. Her Mutter consented and the doll looked back at her solemnly in thanks, she thought, for her hair. 

I lived with Gretchen for 5 years until one day she became sick with a terrible fever that took many of the factory workers including her dear Mutter. 

After Gretchens’ death her Vater could not bear to look at the doll, nor think about his beloved daughter's hair. That only brought painful reminders that his daughter could no longer light up his life with her smile. Her doll was forgotten in a drawer until money was needed to purchase food. Her Vater removed the brown paper wrapped doll without looking at her and took her to market. He bargained for food to feed his remaining family and did not give the doll a second look.

I was sent to a doll store and promptly placed in a window where many little children looked at me daily. It was the time of the war and a soldier came in one day to buy me to take to a place called America.. I was happy because I had been saddened by the death of Gretchen and needed someone to love me again. 

I was stuffed in a suitcase and began the long air ride to America. After what seemed a inordinately long amount of time I arrived to a little girl called Helen. She was a sweet little girl whom played with me endlessly and always asked me “Where did you come from?” and “who had you before me?” Whose hair is that on your head?. She could tell it was real hair but I did not tell her as I was saddened to leave Gretchen and I also did not need the reminder that she was gone and my life had changed.   (image borrowed from Google search)

I can’t say that Helen was unkind but she had many such dolls and I never felt the love that I felt when I was in Germany. We moved many times and I am sure that I lost my wooden leg on one of those moves to Canada. Many years passed and Helen grew up. I was relegated to a drawer once again. Then I was carefully placed in a box. 

My present owner found me one day in a box without my leg and unclothed on a shelf. She had very little money but had made a deal to trade her jewelry for ME.. I felt very special as no one had cared that much about me for a long time. When Gloria saw me in the box with the exact brown eyes that she had, it was all over for her. Gloria saw herself as a little girl, in that dolls face..The present owner told her the story of My travel and a bargain was made to trade the doll for jewelry. I was worth a lot and it took several gold bracelets and a diamond ring before the lady would trust Gloria with her aunts doll, but finally a bargain was made and I was on my way to The USA again.... 

Since that time in 1989 I have lived with Gloria. She has talked to me and loved me as Gretchen did and also kept Gretchen alive for me and others when she tells the story of how I came to live with her.

I now go to another lady named Ingrid to live. I don't blame Gloria, she is ill and must make sacrifices to move to a place called florida to live near her daughter, the Nurse. 

She tells me she has found a good home for me and I believe her. She even says I will have a new leg.. That would feel so good after all these years. 

She is also sending along my story so that Ingrid will know me and my life and so that she will never forget how one little girl in Germany that thought I was so special.  I am awaiting my trip and hope that my new owner will like me as I plan to like her. Who knows? There may be other dolls that I can visit with there and maybe even add another chapter to my story.

The End or is it.?????

Memories As A Kid of The 50s

 I had so many amazing memories as a kid. Growing up at a movie theater on Saturday night, swimming at Munson on Sunday, driving my dad's ole black chevy truck at 10, straw houses, leaving the house in the morning and roaming daddy's 130 acres. Hiding in the bobcat cave when he left it, catching crawdads by hand, drinking ice cold water from the stream, visiting the Native mounds and feeling its presence. 

But today's kids are going to remember 2025 as the year the white house was torn down, that kids didn't have food or shelter while a ballroom is being built, that boats were being blown up without due process, that if you are a person of color,  you are a target for being put in a concentration canp, that prices and inflation are ridiculous, that school carries the weight of being shot while reading, that people are so mean, that our SC is biased, and that "so called" Christians don't care if we love one another or are safe. Humanity is gone. 

My heart bleeds for the young people of today. I never had the thought I was going to be shot at school. My worst nightmare was Marvin Polk was gonna eat a worm in front of me to watch me squirm. If you know a young person, show them extra kindness right now. They're stressed and maybe afraid.  I never felt like the world was ending or that I had no control in this world of how quickly it was going there. I love y'all. Be kind to one another. 🦋🫂💙

The POW and Bravery

 This isn't a pleasant story today but one I feel led to tell. I've taken care of a lot of Vietnam Vets over the years. One of them told me about being a POW for 5 years. He called me at night so that I could read to him, while he sat in a dark closet. I would keep watch while he slept. He had been tortured so badly and his body wore the scars. When he would give talks at the VA to soldiers that wanted to give up, he always started the meeting by removing his shirt. Some of them wept.

Some of them gained hope that if this man can survive, so can we. This is the lesson for us all. This man who escaped and was free, went back to get the 4 other men in the water. I asked him, "weren't you afraid?" He replied,"there is no bravery without fear." He taught me so much. I only met him once and we just hugged. A man and a nurse. Let's be brave for all those gone now, who fought for us. I love y'all so much. We're gonna make it. 🦋🫂💙 

Skating Car Hop at A&W

 I used to be a skating car hop here in the 60s when I was 16. I still have my skates, but don't use them anymore. This job paid me 50 cents an hr plus I kept all my tips. 

The tips were significant because the Navy base was close by. They made my $58 car payment for my banana yellow 67 Mustang and gave me plenty of spending money. 

I don't have any photos of me skating but they live in my memories. 

Day 6 of Covid and on the mend. Im thankful and I love  y'all. Always, Kimmee.🦋💙🫂

The Year My Dad Died

 The year was 1986. My Dad had been in a motor vehicle accident and was on life support. 

I was in San Jose and had a 1 yr old and a 12 yr old when my sister called me and told me my dad was in a wreck. I was as devastated as I was in 1977, receiving a telegram on Okinawa that said, "Daddy had a stroke. He's expected to make it. Jesus is Lord."   

This 1986 call was different because I could hear the anguish in her voice. I knew that meant that Daddy may not make it. 

My family immediately packed our van for the trip across the country. 

Usually, packing our van up meant that we were going to Monterey overnight or to Point Reyes, but this time, it was a different feel for us. 

We hurried across the US as fast as we could and  went to the Baptist Hospital to see Daddy. 

I was struck by this thin, gaunt man who was my daddy. In my mind, he was always bigger than life with his 6'4" frame, but this time, he looked like he knew that this was it.

He opened his eyes and saw me. I could feel the joy in seeing me jump from his eyes to mine. 

I tried desperately to control my tears, but I knew deep in my heart that this time, daddy wasn't going to make it. 

The next two weeks seemed unreal. The medical staff were angels, and we had been told that he had broken C2 and C3 and would never walk, talk, or breathe on his own. The enormity of those words hit us all hard. There were 5 of the 6 kids present, and a decision had to be made.

We talked to Daddy the whole time, and he was communicating by blinking his eyes. 

One time for No and two times for yes. 

One of us had to ask him the question, and because I had some medical knowledge, I was chosen. 

"Daddy, can you hear me?" Two blinks. 

"Daddy, I have to talk with you about what has happened." 

After my explanation, I asked him. "Daddy, do you want to live this way?"  

One Blink, and I waited for the second one that never came. My daddy was 74 years old and knew that death was coming as soon as they pulled the plug. 

Visitors were only 2 at a time, but when the decision was made and we were all in consensus,  they let us all come in to say goodbye. I'll never forget the tear that slid out of Daddy's eye. I was his lil ole gal, and we would never walk or talk together again.  

One hour after the machines were off, his heart stopped. He was alone with nursing staff, and I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for not being by his side. They didn't allow family to witness the death in those days. I'm not sure if they allow it now or not, but I should have asked to be there. 

After the funeral, we made our way back to CA, where I was bereft and grieving. 

The abusive alcoholic had morphed into the best daddy a body could ever have.and I was devastated, crying uncontrollably most days. 

One of those times, I was sobbing and then felt a presence in my room. When I opened my eyes, my daddy and mama stood to the left side of my bedroom. Daddy said, " Don't cry, lil ole gal. I'm with your mama and have no pain."

I can swear that they were as real as you and me standing in my room, and they were happy,  smiling easily as they never had in life. 

I will always miss you, Daddy, and I am so thankful for all those silent lessons that you taught me. Thank you for telling me when I was a kid, that I was smart and was gonna go to college. 

Thank you for working so hard, for so lil money all those years, but most of all, thank you for quitting drinking and for giving me a reason to say, Happy Father's Day. Love always, your lil ole gal. 💙

Dream For A Healthier Planet

 So, I had one of my dreams again during my nap today. A very different dream.

We were focusing on  a fund raiser to save the Ocean Wildlife by walking from the bottom side of one coast to the top side of one coast and we were doing that in the water. We had to stay in the shallow part to walk but there was a small boat that stayed beside us to provide water and food as we needed and a bathroom but the rest of the time we were walking in shifts completely up the coast to raise money and awareness about the lives of the Ocean Animals. 

It started out like any day, sunny overhead and not much stirring but the sea birds, hoping for a snack from us. But it sooned turned adventurous.  A large school of dolphin came close to us and wanted to check out who the humans were walking along the shore for such a long distance. At first we thought they were sharks but then they started jumping and we knew that they were dolphins. They stayed with us for  a really long while as we walked, day after day. I don't know if it was for protection or what but they would not leave our sides. 

A day later we ran into a shark. He was huge and floating upside down in the water just to the left of our boat.  I did not know if the dolphins had seen a situation ahead and stayed with us for protection or if they had gone ahead and made sure that we were safe for our walk?

We continued day after day walking, resting, sleeping and soon a large group of people were following us like Forest Gump. They were surfers and teachers and artists and naturalist concerned with saving our Ocean so that we save the life on the land. Without water, there is no life.  That was the strong message that came forward in the group and millions of dollars was raised by our little trek for this purpose, to purify the water on this planet to sustain life. 

I woke up when the message made itself clear and was amazed by what started out as a trek to save the aquatic wildlife and it became a trek to save us as humans... 

It felt so good in the dream and I had to come share that, at least in my dreams, I am one with the planet and the animals that inhabit it. I work to save it from destruction and enlist the aid of others along the way  to help with it and the animals know and understand what we were doing and were helping us too. 

Maybe we all aren't so different. Maybe we are just animals trying to make our world a better place and maybe we don't always know how to go about doing that without hurting others. I don't know the huge big meaning of the dream but it was so pleasant and I wish you all could have been with me, walking to make the world a better place...

In the dream, I could walk y'all... Endlessly... *sigh* 

I love you, Kimmee

Homemade Biscuits and "Mater" Gravy

 I learned to make biscuits when I was this side of 8 years old. We didn't have a Mama at home most of the time and the boys did the cooking,  after my sister Ruby married. 

I was just 7 years old at that time and little did I know that my outdoor days of running and playing were about to come to a curtailed end.   

One day my brother Ernest said," come here gal, I'm gonna help you to fix some biscuits."  I was so excited that I couldn't come fast enough. I still remember my first biscuits.  Hard  as rocks cause I had messed with the dough too much, messy looking with cracks cause I had not finessed the tuck and circular motion that makes them pretty,  but within a year, I was making some pretty edible biscuits.  I had more flour on me than the flour barrel in those days but I was so proud of my biscuits until I realized that my brother showed me how,  so that he wouldn't have to get up to make them or get Daddy off to work. lol. 

As the oldest girl at home, biscuit making fell to me when I could make a pretty good biscuit and I was this side of 9 when that happened.  I did that most of the time, except that one yr or so that we had a live in housekeeper. 

There were many 4 AM mornings after Daddy would make the fire and I made the biscuits that I would run to the only source of heat in the house, our small fireplace in the living room.  My hands would throb and hurt so much from the cold, that when I would get a moment to warm them by the fire, pain would shoot through my fingers, and I would grit my teeth so that I would not make any noise. 

I just made biscuits the other day to go with some sausage gravy and my daughter said, "Mama, those were some good biscuits."  

They were pretty credible but my biscuits are a pale shadow of my Aunt Thelma's who lived to be 102 and 8 months, making biscuits in an iron skillet til she went home. Lordamercy to have another one of hers with some mater gravy or her fried chicken or smeared with butter and her Watermelon Rind Preserves.  

I don't know if lil girls learn to make biscuits anymore but I am glad that I was taught, even if the motive wasn't quite pure. 😀

( Over the years, my brother taught me so many things and most of them I learned to do, except his perfect swan dive. I miss him since he went home in 2008 but I have many memories to help keep him close.)