Re: Hollyhock Dolls, and an Apology

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.
>                                                 Norma
> 
> 
>      QQQ
>     $*-*$
>       *
>  norma@redrock.net
>  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 <prw@televar.com>
Omak, WA USDA zone 5
Omak
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