13 – My Queen Anne Doll

My Queen Anne Doll

By Bonnie S. Davis

When I opened the silver foiled box on that memorable Christmas morning in 1957 I believed Santa had made a huge mistake. In my letter to old St Nick I hadn’t mentioned a doll dressed in a satin and lace-wedding gown. Although most seven- year-old girls would be thrilled with such a prize, I wasn’t. My heart was set on a pearl handled cap gun with a matching holster.

Even though my disappointment was obvious my mother ignored my behavior and removed the doll from the box. “Let’s name her Queen Anne, after my favorite wildflower, Queen Anne’s Lace,” she said as she smoothed the doll’s cascading dress that reminded me of grandma’s parlor curtains.

“I don’t care what you name her,” I said as I turned away from the life-like creature with the perfect blonde curls, red painted mouth, and large rolling eyes.

Queen Anne moved into my room after the holidays. I didn’t want her there. She looked out of place among the baseball cards, plastic soldiers, fishing poles marbles, and canning jars filled with dried frogs. I put my cowboy hat on her veiled head, but it only made her look more sinister. I  stared at her at night before going to bed and wondered how I could give her away without my mother knowing about it.

Although I tried to reject my only gift, guilt waved a flag in front of me each time I looked at the doll. I wanted to play with Anne, but I couldn’t connect with her until one day my imagination cast her as my new co-star. I wouldn’t let her steal my roles as Annie Oakley, Roy Rogers or Sky King because I was the hero, but I allowed her to play the supporting characters as a rancher’s bride or Miss Kitty in my version of Gunsmoke. Not only did she participate in westerns, but Anne also was a regular in my more spiritual dramas when she assumed the function as an angel or a fairy godmother.

After many years and countless make-believe productions Queen Anne left my imaginary world and found a temporary home at the church rummage sale. She still looked like a bride, but her pristine curls were less than perfect and she was minus a shoe and veil. I still wonder if she continued her acting career with another little girl or did she find retirement displayed on a shelf in her later years.

Queen Anne didn’t take me out of blue jeans and cowboy boots, but she did give me an avenue to expand my creativity. I had many toys that were special, but none as unique as the doll in the wedding dress that inspired me to reach beyond my capabilities. More than a doll, Queen Anne was a friend whose influence is still with me today.

Vol. 38 No.4 – Copyright © Yesterday’s Magazette – Winter- 2011-12