THE RAG DOLL - Object lesson

In 1960, my mother taught me a lesson. It wasn't until many years later that I understood how great of a teacher she really was.

Raising an only child, everything was a one time deal - no second chance to do it again with brother or sister - and all the special days were that much more precious.
Lisette was my rag doll. My mom made her. She was big enough to fill my arms, big enough to get her dressed easily and sit in a baby chair. She looked pretty, a smile on her face, nice hair that didn't tangle, her body was firm and when I closed my eyes she was real. Lisette's wardrobe was hand made out of fabric remnants from our own clothes. She had summer dresses in colorful prints and madras, hand knitted stockings and gloves, pinafores with eyelets trims, skirts and sweaters, flannel nightgowns, and a rust colored winter coat with big buttons. A little girl's dream... playing mommy... matching clothes.

Door to door peddlers were common in those days. We bought small household supplies from a couple of them. "They are trying to make a living" my mother would say. Once, or maybe twice a year, a gypsy lady came to our door with a large bag of goods. That's when we bought shoes laces, black shoe polish "Kiwi" brand, boxes of large matches, wooden clothespins and such. Yes, they sold those little things at the "Echo" corner market literally steps away. But this lady was trying to make a little money to feed her growing family, and we helped her. It seemed (thru the eyes of of child), that she always had a new baby or was expecting one. It was the case this time.

With her that day, she had two children, two girls. I remember the oldest one, about my age, she was keeping the little one in check, already helping with carrying things to sell. During the course of the conversation the subject of time for resting and playing came up. By the answers given, it didn't sound like it was in this family's agenda - ever. The lady was saying how having a new baby actually forced her to have a vacation because she had to stay in the hospital a while (back then it was at least a week). As for playing, well, nobody had time for that... I felt sad listening to what sounded like a life all in gray. Pretty soon it was time to go the gypsy lady said. That's when my mother mentioned that sometimes people move away. I knew were she was going with that - we were moving!!! Our friends and neighbors knew it, and dinners and gatherings had been going on more often than usual. But this was hard news for this peddler. She let out a cry and took my mother's hands with tears rolling down her face. "Oh no! You can't leave!". Then we all hugged each other. After a while, the crying stopped and it was good- bye. That's when I said "Wait!". I ran to my room and came back with Lisette, my doll, and gave it to the oldest girl. She looked at me and smiled, took the doll and held her close to her heart. They walked away and the door was shut.

Before the little group was out of sight, I said I wanted to go outside and get my doll back. Gently my mother told me "No, you gave it away, it's hers now".

Many years later, I was moved out and lived in Geneva. Mom came to visit and see were I worked and lived. She talked to me about the day I gave Lisette away. She said that it was a special doll, she was even named after her. She told me that she didn't want me to give it away. But how could she let me take it back when she was trying to teach me?

WOW!!! Talk about living up to what you preach...