The story below was when I was in grade school (during the Civil War). I watched and said If I ever had a Breyer horse, I would set it on a shelf and never put it in the dirt. About twenty years ago I found my first Breyer horse at a flea market. Now at fifty-four the insanity continues. Isn't it funny how childhood events affect our whole life?
1959 IN THE DITCH written 5/25/2004
Unless actively taught a child of five has no perception of rich and poor. I now know I was "poor". I was not hungry, I was loved and I was allowed to dream.
First grade was an adventure. We were all equal. We played and we laughed and we shared. We were safe inside this ideal that we were the same.
Then the new girl came.
In a white dress with blue ribbons and blond hair, she walked into our room and nothing was ever the same.
From California to Arkansas, her origin seemed as far away as the moon. Her customs were also as foreign as the aliens we imagined in the lunar landscape.
Each noon, armed with only our imagination we gathered to play in The Ditch( it's always been there between the school and the ball field. You could play without the teachers watching). Hide and Seek ranked high on our list of favorite games, followed by Cowboy and Indians, War and House.
When the new girl came, she brought toys. Toys like we had only dreamed. Beautiful dolls with eyes like hers and shiny Breyer Horses that deserved to be worshipped from a place of honor.
The new girl proudly added these to our play. The beautiful clean baby doll was laid in the make-shift bed of sticks and the Breyer horses were galloped through the dust.
We laughed and we played and we shared...but it was different now.
The new girl had taken our innocence...not on purpose...but her eagerness to share her possessions had forever highlighted the fact we had none and likely never could.
7 comments:
Oh Gail, that's sad. I know how you felt when you were little, I carry a lot of memories around like that myself. What a story to share though. Now you have me looking at them on eBay and there are some really pretty ones on there. Thanks for telling me about these, I was really curious when you mentioned them the other day :)
Love,
Sharon
What a touching story! It sounds kind of like the first time you learned that Santa wasn't real...something just changes.
As a child who lost her innocence at an early age, I always try to do everything in my power to preserve my children's.
I have a friend that collects Breyer horses, they are really quite beautiful.
Funny how things change us throughout our childhood. I grew up in a military town. Until around 5th grade, I didn't "notice" the varying changes as kids came and moved on. It was that grade, that I wanted to be military...to move and move again, to be adventurous, more than in my tree forts, or pretend world!I learned there was a bigger world than the island I was living on.
As children we always think different is better, in most cases.
I was always envious of my male cousin, Tim, who had shelves covered in beautiful Breyer horses. I didn't have any then, and never did.
Instead, every birthday and Christmas I was given foofy, fussy Madame Alexander dolls. I despised them.
I didn't even like dolls and these dolls I wasn't allowed to pay with at all.
My stepmother started my doll collection, because that is what she had wanted as a child.
Your post brings back all those sad memories.
I'm sorry for you...and for me...and for all kids who become affected in the same way...
~Lisa
New Mexico
Wow, I had one of those collections, as a young girl..they were all my best friends and they were my safest place to be in the whole world. I only have a few left now...my first black and white pony. Misty of Chincoteague, her foal, a jumping bay horse, a Palomino, grazing horse, and an Arabian Stallion with a broken leg.
They kinda make me sad...as it was a sad time with them.
I feel you
What an incredibly evocative and poignant story, Gail - absolutely beautifully written. Isn't it curious the things that shape and change us.
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