Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Buggy-to-Little







This is a story of Buggy-to-Little. It is my rag doll. She is not much of a rag doll but she is mine. She is the only remnant of my childhood. The odd part of still having her is that I was never a doll person. Give me a truck, train, skates - anything other than a doll.

When I was eight, I had never used a needle but I thought that I should make a doll. That seemed like a good project. My sister and I had always made these puppets that you could make from old sheets. They were easy - just wad up a ball of material, put a string around it for a head, draw a face on it and voila' you have a finger puppet.

I was comfortable with the use of old sheets. So I took this idea to my mother. She couldn't sew but she was willing to give ideas and assistance. I was thrilled to have this project. It took all my thoughts and energy for a couple of days. What fun! I sewed the doll by hand. We made clothes by hand. My Mother drew a face for me. This no longer exists. My sister and I gave her a "face lift".


She had many adventures. My sister loved dolls and had many. I had one - Buggy.

She got her name when we made a wheelbarrow to put all the dolls together. Somehow my rag doll would get lost, flop over, get squished and so we said she was too little for the buggy. Hence the name Buggy-to-Little.

She went on to win a prize at my school's doll faire. She had her picture in the newspaper. She lost her arm, her mouth, her clothes. But she still is there in my memory box. She is always willing to come out and make my life complete with my sister at my side.

Buggy-to-Little

Too wee for my carriage
Too big for a match box
Sad little, bad little,
Glad little "Buggy"

Big button eyes
Weak little chin
She's Heidie. Dale Evans,
She's HucklberryFinn.

Friend to what's happy
Or all that is lonely,
She's me and my dreams
She loves me and me only.

She's lost youth, lost hope,
The Circus, Santa Claus.
Sad little, bad little,
Glad little Buggy.

All that is left of me,
Worn, almost brittle.
Glad little, Bad little,
Buggy-to-Little.

Annie Sieler, my sister
about 1967





http://janetclare.co.uk/blog/
Janet Clare did a post about her "Flopsy"










4 comments:

Blue Sky Dreaming said...

Oh Pat, This post almost took my breath away. The story of your Buggy's creation and the poem by Annie. Thank you.
I had a sister and we played with our dolls for days at a time. She being older made the rules but I owned the buggy so things went my way too!! ha

janet clare said...

Buggy has so much character! I hope she leads a more sedate life now...

patrice said...

She so well loved! I'm so glad you shared this story. The poem is a knock-out.

Krista said...

I'm delighted with your story here and the character that this little doll possessed (and still does!). I would love to go back in time to when it seemed to be more common for children to enjoy simpler pass times and using their imagination so wonderfully. Thank you for sharing this!

Also, thank you for visiting my blog, I am touched that my video inspired you to want to try potting. I can understand what you mean, the appeal of the clay is the same for me, everything about it is so alluring and soul-satisfying!