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This Crocheted Doll Got Me Banned From The House

My Grandmother made these dolls, but I couldn't touch them.

I grew up in the Texas Panhandle and lived there until my Junior year of High School. But, I spent all my summers in Arkansas staying with my Daddy’s parents and my Mother’s Mother.

Daddy’s parents lived in the country and I loved getting to stay with them… there was a zillion things to do…. help Granddad in the garden, help Granny with canning the vegetables so they would have food for winter, and play with my cousin who lived down the dirt road.

Janella was a year younger than me and real “girlie”… I was a “tomboy”. She taught me how to paint my fingernails and wear makeup, and I taught her how to fix her broken bicycle and climb trees.

My Grandmother on my Mother’s side lived in the little town of Greenwood, which was about 30 miles from where Granny and Granddad lived.

I didn’t like being at her house at all. There was no one to play with and nothing to do except play jacks. There was a piano in the living room, but I wasn’t allowed to touch it, even though I told Granny I knew how to play “Chop Sticks” really well.

She had a big front porch with a swing at the end of it. I could sit in the swing, but not swing because it “squeaked and made her nervous”.

Granny crocheted every evening while she listened to the radio.  She made all kinds of  doilies and these little dolls with crocheted dresses in every color you can imagine.


Every table had a doilie on it and the dolls were setting everywhere in the living room. There were even some setting on top of the piano. Granny said they were to “look at” not to play with. I’ve often wondered what happened to all of them… I’d like to have one now.

One day Granny was outside doing something, I don’t remember what… so, I decided that I was going to play chop sticks. When I lifted the lid on the piano, one of the dolls fell off on the floor. I grabbed it real quick and stuck it back up there, but it fell off again about the time Granny came back in the house.

She walked in the room, picked up the doll, put it back up on the piano, and for what seemed like an hour, just glared at me. I thought for sure that she was going to kill me dead right there, but she just turned and walked out of the room without saying a word.

I didn’t ever touch the piano or the dolls again!

When summer had started, Mother had told me that I had to stay with Granny as much as I stayed with Daddy’s parents or she would get her feelings hurt. But, the next time my Aunt came to pick me up to take me back to Granny and Granddad’s house, Granny told my Aunt that she knew there wasn’t anything to do at her house, so why didn’t I just spent the rest of the summer with them.

I always figured that the real reason was that I had touched her piano and dolls.

Whatever memories you have of growing up… your Grandparents, or other special things in your life, be sure to tell your children about them, or better yet, write them down.

This Post Has 6 Comments
  1. Cheryl, I love your website. Memories of your Granny and Granddad Sosebee will always be with me. They were the sweetest people. All of us kids had fun at your grandparents, Aunt Buna and Uncle Elmer’s. I remember the crank up phone and being able to talk to Granny Sosebee from Aunt Buna’s home.

    Love you,
    Pat

  2. Loved this story. It reminds me of my little old Aunties growing up that always gifted my sisters and I with a doll or some other crocheted item when I was little. Thank you for the memories!

    1. Seems like we all had Aunts who made them. Granny made dozens of them, but don’t have any idea what happened to all of them.

  3. How I came here? I came because the author of this blog, Cheryl White is a friend of mine for the past 50+ years. When she was thinking of starting this blog, she trusted me to proofread her first couple of articles, including this one!! I was honored. My memory of these dolls is the one my own grandmother crocheted for me in pink as a cover for the spare roll of toilet paper that sat on the back of the commode! ?

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