Another Tale Of The Brown Recluse... My Mother

When I was in fifth grade of elementary school we had been living here for almost three years, just two houses down from my two best friends. Life was as good as it could possibly get when seen through my 12-year-old eyes. Summers were filled with swimming at the Elks Club, going to YMCA Day Camp, and giggling as we let *Fizzies* dissolve in our mouths. We'd have lemonade stands, ride our bikes with reckless abandon throughout the neighborhood, playing *Kick-The-Can*, swinging until dark at the park across the street from our houses and partaking in the famous *Water Balloon Wars* we used have against all the boys in the neighborhood.

The year was 1963 and the top musical hits of that year were:
Surfin' U.S.A. and Surfer Girl by the Beach Boys
Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton
It's My Party by Leslie Gore
Rhythm Of The Rain by The Cascades
Puff The Magic Dragon and Blowing In The Wind by Peter, Paul & Mary
Wipeout by the Surfaris
Pipeline by the Chantays
Up On The Roof by The Drifters
Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah (A Letter From Camp) by Allan Sherman
He's So Fine by The Chiffons.

Those were truly the best few years of my childhood. I loved the school I went to and I adored my teacher. For the first time in my life, I was making passing grades because we seemed to have finally settled down somewhere. Being young, I had no idea what was coming. I was sure that we'd finally found someplace we could be happy as a family, but The Brown Recluse had other plans and schemes in mind. She was always scheming and my brother and I were seldom on her mind when it came to her big plans.

In January of my fifth grade year at school, The Brown Recluse awakened my brother and me in the middle of the night, telling us both to hurry and get dressed. She instructed us to pack up all of our clothes and a few favorite toys. I remember being confused and sleepy and not wanting to pack anything. I had school in the morning. However, TBR was frantic and I was old enough to recognize when she was in a total panic and smart enough to keep my mouth shut. I did as I was told with great reluctance. There was never any arguing with The World's Greatest Guilt Maker and Drama Queen.

It was only a few weeks past Christmas and my ever elusive father (probably bought by Mimi, my Grandmother) sent me a Madame Alexander doll for Christmas. Mother wouldn't let me play it with so I would spend lots of time just looking at her... in her lovely outfit... in her lovely box. It was an Ana McGuffey doll and I adored her. So, it was only natural that I chose her as one of my toys to take along.

The Brown Recluse told me a flat out "No!" and said that it would be going into storage with our other belongings. She assured me that we would have them sent when we arrived, wherever we were going. I was devastated. I did not want to leave her behind because I knew I was going to lose her like so many other things over the years.

I knew it was happening again. We were running away from something, in the middle of the night. Again. I should explain here that TBR was always running away from failed love affairs as well as bills. I can't remember ever leaving a forwarding address whenever we escaped in the middle of the night and I was never allowed to write my former friends. That says a lot in itself. I was beginning to see a pattern in her crazy behavior, even though I was still unaware of what it really meant. I did know that it meant another new school and having to make new friends. Again. I was beginning to really hate having to go to a new school and it was getting harder and harder to make new friends. I never saw Ana or any of my other toys again.

Fast-forward to the year 2004. I was driving home from a doctor's appointment one day and noticed an estate sale that looked interesting, so I went around the block to get back to it, and parked. The deceased woman who had owned the house had been a local seamstress for like 40 years. She never had any children but she collected dolls. I felt as if I was Alice In Wonderland falling into a dream. I spent somewhere around two hours there and wound up buying 8 Madame Alexander dolls, that were all in mint condition. Ana McGuffey was among them. Then I began to worry about how I would explain this to Mr. Snoots, because I had spent $400.00.

When I told him what I'd done, I assured him I could get every penny back (and then some), but there was a catch. I told him I just wanted to keep them for a little while. I wanted to just enjoy them for a while before I sold them. I relayed the Ana story to him and he agreed to let me keep them for a while as long as I eventually sold them, profit or no profit.

Since then, I have sold four of the dolls in my online shop (for a modest, fair profit), but I'm rather reluctant to sell the last four and I just cannot understand why. Admittedly, I will NEVER sell Ana McGuffey. She is so perfect and lovely. Something leftover from childhood, within my psyche just won't allow me to part with her. I'm having a great deal of trouble parting with Alice In Wonderland as well. Hopefully, I can make enough profit on Snow White and Scarlett O'Hara to somewhat make up the difference. Well, if I hold onto them long enough. Maybe. Or not.

Yes, this would be considered another addiction collection. So sue me.