Every little girl is given dolls to play with. I was as car-crazy at age five as I am now. I would have loved to play with toy cars. But I was not given any, even when I asked for them. Which doesn’t mean I didn’t like playing with dolls too.
I named this doll “Sunrise Tomato Juice.” It was given to me by Mrs. Betty Shaeffer, who lived next door in the year 1959. The Shaeffers had no children so she delighted in visits from me. And I loved going over to her house where I played with her dog, cat, and copied things she did. She put on hand cream (my mother didn’t do that). She had a silk comforter on her bed. I made my mother buy me a comforter just like it, though my mother bought me nylon, not silk. She also saved the bright red boxes she got at a store called The Hitching Post, which was in the Levittown Shoparama, to give to me. (My mother did not like Hitching Post. She said it was overpriced).
Exactly what concept I had, piling up all those phone books, Sears catalogs, and papers for the doll to sit on top of, I can not fathom, now that I am an adult, any more than I can understand why I gave the doll such a stupid name.
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