Old times remembered

I’m trying to empty my house out so that I can either sell it or use it for a center for detox.  As I’m going through the boxes stored in the basement, I ran across a doll rocking chair, about 9 inches tall, the size of the old Ginny dolls of yesteryear.  It brought tears to my eyes. 

The time was in the 1950’s.  We would have to travel to Grandmother’s house from Falls Church, VA to Troutman, NC by going down Rt. 29.  We didn’t have Interstates then.  When we got south of Danville, into the mountains, there were country stores with chenille robes, rugs, and all kinds of nickknacks.  Once in a while something would catch Mother’s eye and we would stop.  The doll rocking chair was purchased at one such stop. 

I didn’t play dolls much when I was young, so I can’t say the chair was ever even used.  I was more of the cowboy and Indian kind of kid.  But just the memories of the trips to Grandma’s house, the 1955 Mercury loaded to the gills.  Bren (my sister) and I cramped in the back seat with our stuff.  It took 12 hours to make the trip.

I know when I die my things won’t mean much to my kids.  But this is one of those things that I would have liked to pass on.  Maybe just because it is 60 years old and almost brand new.  Maybe because it represents the handcrafts long disappeared from our roadsides.  Maybe because I would just like a part of me remembered by my grandchildren.  I’ll never know why I kept this particular part of my past. 

I might keep it for Abby.  She’s only one now, but she might like playing dolls later.  My older granddaughter, Cassidy, hasn’t had much of a relationship with me up till now, and probably won’t in the future.  But that’s not the reason for this post.  As with all of my things, I’ll just have to leave it to God where it should go.  I don’t think I’ll sell it for now, though.  I’ll hold on to it a little longer.



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