Re: Hollyhock Dolls, and an Apology
- To: Multiple recipients of list <firstname.lastname@example.org>
- Subject: Re: Hollyhock Dolls, and an Apology
- From: Patricia Wenham <email@example.com>
- Date: Wed, 19 Feb 1997 22:55:45 -0700 (MST)
Norma Hensen wrote:
> Good Morning,
> Judy, I am sorry. I had already posted my note on how to make the dolls
> before I read Clarence's post to you. I didn't mean to take over and again
> I am sorry.
> These are special memories of the summer we made hollyhock dolls. The
> memories make the dolls very dear to me for this was indeed a magic summer.
> I think of it as the last summer of my childhood.
> I like to tell this story and maybe you will be interested. If not, hit
> the delete button. (Thank heaven for Delete.)
> I was twelve years old and in my last year of elementary school. The world
> was a wonderful magical place that summer. Lots of friends, grasshoppers,
> good talk, swimming and evenings of Run Sheep Run. There was only one cloud
> in our world that summer. That was the war. Even though we were children,
> we were aware of the horror, and that the war had just ended in Europe. We
> hoped that it would soon be over, and played with one ear tuned to the radio.
> In midsummer a little girl from Canada came to visit her Grandfather. She
> was younger than our group but we were enchanted with this little visitor
> from another country. She was a pretty, shy, timid, little thing and we
> were protective of her. One day
> she had us all running down the alleys gathering the stray hollyhocks that
> had escaped the confines of their yards.
> We brought a quilt out and settled on the lawn, under the window, so we
> could hear the radio. She showed us how to make the dolls that day. Yes,
> Clarence, I remember now, the simplified version was the one I learned
> first. Then later my mother taught us to make the toothpick doll.
> That summer we begged, borrowed, and I am afraid in some cases stole
> hollyhocks. We stripped the neighborhood, until at the end of August there
> were no more hollyhocks to make our dolls.
> At times we would play a make-believe game of, "Mad Scientist." This was
> an invention of my fertile brain and was lots of gory and horrible
> imagination adventures. One day, Sheila(Canadian) said, "I can't play with
> you any more if we play "Mad Scientist. It makes me have bad dreams."
> Soon after that we dropped the atomic bombs and we knew the conflict would
> soon be over. There was no more running through the weeds, no more going to
> the store for a pop, no more grasshoppers in bottles. Now we sat in our
> homes and listened to the radio.
> Summer was almost over, and we were getting ready to return to school.
> Radios blared forth no matter where you went. Everyone was waiting and
> thinking of one thing. The end of the war and the boys coming home.
> I had just left the beauty shop. I was waiting for a bus. The news came
> through. Japan had surrendered. Even now I cannot think of that moment
> without tears and a lump in my throat. If you did not live through this
> time, you cannot imagine the joy and sorrow we felt at once. The
> celebration was so exciting. We were in the back of a pickup and everyone
> was yelling and laughing and kissing. In the evening there was a great bon
> fire in the middle of Center street and we had a great snake dance.
> Looking back, that was the day I left my childhood behind.
> St George, Utah
> Zone 7/8 depends on what day it is.
> "Language is a cracked kettle on which we bang out tunes to make
> the bears dance, when what we long for is to move the stars to pity."
> Gustave Flaubert
> Norma, you reminded me that this was the same time I left my carefree
childhood and my home state behind. It was a great story. Thank you.
Patti Wenham <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Omak, WA USDA zone 5