1950s SMALL TOWN LIFE: A DOLL'S PAINFUL CHRISTMAS

From Santa, we usually got one main toy for Christmas and then some smaller things from our parents. Our paternal grandmother was on a limited budget, and it never occurred to us that she should give any of us a present, and she didn't. Our mother's parents usually gave her money to buy us slips or pajamas which she wrapped and put under the tree in Ennis.

Our usual Christmas day routine was that after opening presents at our own house and having a huge breakfast, we loaded in some disorderly fashion into two cars. Elton Jr. was married by this time, and he and Deanna probably came out for gift opening and then went to Ennis with us, though I don't remember altogether. Neila was attending junior college, but she could drive, so after present opening, we piled into the cars for the trip to Ennis to our maternal grandparents' house, a forty mile trip.

Neila drove, and Jan, Susan, and I rode with her. Mother, Daddy, and Stephen went ahead of us so Mother could help with cooking the enormous Christmas dinner we would have there.

We pulled up at Nettie's house; she was already standing outside waiting for us, dressed up and wearing her squirrel fur coat. She had on high heels, which was a great change for her; she usually wore Daniel Green houseshoes all the time, everywhere, even in the pasture.

That coat represented something to her, Neila said, but none of us could figure out what exactly. Maybe a period of family prosperity, a bright sparkler long since fizzled out.

You could tell she thought she looked swell in it, the long lines of the coat dwarfing her. At five feet tall, and weighing a little over 200 pounds, she looked like a fur-wrapped mini-bale of cotton, one with legs and a topknot of blonde curly hair.

It wasn't even cold, not really. Sometimes Christmas day in Texas really disappointed on the weather front. Sometimes it was hot, and people sweated If we had snow, it was considered miraculous.

Neila swung the car over to the curb and Nettie pulled open the passenger side door and maneuvered her rheumatoid-prone body into the seat.

"Merry Christmas," she said pleasantly.

"Merry Christmas," we all chimed, smiling at her.

"You look nice," Neila said, meaning it, even if we would laugh about the coat before and after being with her.

"Thank you," Nettie said, her red lips turning up, her mouth forming a U.

We were playing in the backseat with the toys we got. Jan had gotten a beautiful ballerina doll with brown curly hair and blue eyes. She had fourteen movable joints and several beautiful outfits for dancing. Jan had positioned the doll into plie and first position as she had learned at Mrs. Jewel's Dance Studio.

This year I hadn't wanted a doll. I had asked for a robot. It was a popular toy, and I liked the funny way it moved and made little robot noises. It had a control, and something like a metal leash, which was very short, so I had to follow it closely as it moved about. I know I begged for it, but it wasn't long before I tired of it. It required a lot of supervision, and I just got tired of going everywhere it wanted to go.

After spending the day at our grandparents, my patience exhausted, I actually no longer wanted to play with the robot. Jan's doll appealed to me, so I had to figure out a way to get her to let me play with it.

"Hey, this robot is so fun!" I said to her in the late afternoon. "He can turn corners, and he'll go wherever you want him to." I didn't add "if you hold on to his leash". She looked over, interested. She'd never had a robot, but we'd both had lots of dolls.

"Okay," she said hesitantly, placing her doll on the divan in the living room. I left the robot and walked immediately toward the doll, trying not to draw her attention.

"How long can I play with him?" she asked goodnaturedly.

"Oh, as long as you want," I said, picking up the ballerina doll.

"Are you gonna play with my doll?" she asked, seeming surprised at the exchange.

"Yes," I said simply, hoping she wouldn't realize that I had tricked her.


"Okay," she turned, activating the now idiotic looking robot and following him on the leash. He walked her for an hour or more, all over the house, the big L-shaped front porch, and past Granny Newlin, who never looked at him or Jan even though they walked between her and the television where she was watching Lassie fifteen or twenty times.

It was time to go home, and I still wanted to play with the doll. I made her dance in her tiny ballet shoes, bending her ankles, moving her legs up and down by bending them at the hips, making her legs a 90 degree angle by manipulating the knee joints. Her hands moved up above her head as they pivoted in the shoulder joints, and her elbows made the slightest bend in order to form perfect circles for her ballet positions. And she could bend at the waist to perform her perfect bows, thanking everyone for the applause.

The robot was still walking Jan when we got ready to leave, but once we got in the darkened car to leave, she wanted her doll back. I tried to bully my way into keeping her ballerina, but I realized that if our argument got any louder, someone would intervene, and it was her doll.

"Okay," I said grudgingly. "Just let me do one more dance with her," and as I said this, I made her stand on her tippy toes, then moved her so that she was tippy toeing on one leg only, and as I did so, I bent her foot back just a little too far and heard a sickening snap."

"What did you do?" Jan said angrily.

"I think her foot broke off." I said, hardly able to believe it.

"Oh no, we can't fix it!" she said louder.

Neila heard the commotion and after ascertaining the problem, said, "Well, we'll just glue her foot back on, and she will have thirteen movable parts and one unmovable part, okay?"

For some reason, Nettie chimed in, "She'll be okay. Some of my joints don't work right either, and I do all right. Well, I can't do ballet, but I do all right otherwise."

I sat quietly, feeling bad about what I'd done, but hoping Jan would not keep on about it. Our parents would probably be irritated at me for breaking her toy.

Jan was quiet for a few minutes, then for some reason-----maybe because it was Christmas------she said, "Okay, will you glue it for me, Neila?"

I breathed deeply, settled into the crack of the backseat and vowed to be nicer to her for a few days. She deserved at least that.








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