Childhood in the 60’s
In the 60’s, long haired troll dolls became popular. There was a boutique in the center of town that had trolls of all sizes, clothed and unclothed, with the thick, luxurious, colored hair I coveted. My friend Eva had a troll collection, including a troll house and all of its accouterments.
But my parents never indulged in the trendy toys and clothes that everyone else in my class and neighborhood had. It seemed to me that I was the only one deprived of these essentials for happiness as I yearned deeply to be my friend next door who had an EasyBake Oven, Snow Cone Machine, Creepy Crawlers, and Incredible Edibles.
The day I turned 6 years old, my Dad gave me a stuffed white elephant. It lay flat like an old style teddy bear, with a stubby tail; the front of its large ears and feet a deep plush red. That day he sat upon the mantle in my kindergarten classroom, next to the picture book of songbirds my grandmother had given me that same day.
Elli and I were inseparable. We played under the towering white pines, collecting scads of pinecones on the days my brother mowed the lawn. We made potions of rose petals and smashed lily of the valley berries on the rose draped back porch. He had his own room in the enormous rhododendron bush we played house in. He was my companion as I, oh so proudly, rode my big red trike round the block all by myself, (a long time ago). We flew through the air together on the swing set, kicking up the sand at Wedge Pond, he sat propped in the shade of the bench where I could keep an eye on him as I took my first swimming lessons. We took long walks together with the child sized perambulator that had been my older sister’s. He comforted me in the middle of the night in the days when joining my parents in their bed after a nightmare wasn’t even the glimmer of a possibility. I learned to read as we rocked together on the brown couch in my parents bedroom, singing along to Mitch Miller. We poured over the drawings in the songbird book my grandmother had given us, listening to the recording of birdsong that came inserted in the cover. We suffered chicken pox and mumps together; and could barely contain ourselves when I lost my first tooth in the middle of the night at my cousin’s house.
Periodically, there came the dreaded days when my mother insisted that Elli needed a bath. After being run through the washer, he hung by his ears on the clothes line, where I literally watched him dry in the sunshine. When I finally got him back in my clutches, I loved the Downy smell, and the look and feel of the fur in his joints and behind his tail. But his fur had become wavy and his shoe button eyes scuffed. Oh well, my knees and elbows became scuffed as we flew down the hill on the back of my trike and slammed into the tree at its base.
Elli came to Maine with us when we moved years later. A tiny hole in Elli’s trunk spilled some of the foam bit stuffing which had by then crumbled to dust. The last time I saw him was on the sweltering sun porch, shoved under an old spool bed along with the piles of detritus of many years. I was bereft to find that he had disappeared when I went back to look for him as I was leaving home.I have yet to find Elli. But I’m still looking.
Many years later, I started longing for some of the old books and playthings from my childhood. That yearning became so great that I for years I searched rummage sales and antique stores for an acceptable replacement. As the internet grew, I expanded my search and have since found some of those old treasures. My incessant longing for the coveted trolls of my childhood was finally fulfilled. I tracked down replicas of the favorites in my brothers Steiff animal collection. I was ecstatic to locate a copy of the very bird book my grandmother had given me so long ago.
Several years ago while on a road trip, I came across a vintage 60’s red haired nurse troll in an antiques store. I readily shelled out the $25 the proprietor was asking for, thrilled that my dream had come true. Upon my arrival home, I got on line and located four other trolls, including two of the larger ones that were so very out of reach when I was a child. I bought them all. They sit on my bedroom shelf, and I feel so happy when I look at them, run my fingers through their soft, woolly hair.
It’s never too late…