Treasure to Trash

You’ve heard the expression, ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.’ And I think that is often the case.

But in my case, my ‘treasures’ are sadly but quickly becoming my trash.

Back in the day when my girls liked playing with paper dolls, I made some paper dolls which I laminated. From felt, I fashioned various wigs the dolls could wear to go with a variety of lace-trimmed dresses. To secure the clothing on the dolls, I used magnets. The wigs had a front and back and could slip easily onto the dolls’ heads. I’m not sure, but I think I had as much fun making the outfits as they did playing with them.

I kept the little creations until last week. They were doing me no good, and I needed to empty another box from the garage. So, I pitched them. It took a little courage to do that as they were a bit of my creative soul. I had a little time of grieving over them as they stared up from their silver casket.

I am trying to get the courage to bury these special treasures. They were dolls made by my great-grandmother, Ma Stone.

At my house before, I displayed them proudly along with a handmade cotton-picking bonnet which was made in earlier years but never worn. The vignette also displayed my grandmother’s glove, a little teapot of MeMa’s, artwork my mother made, a piece of a quilt from my grandmother on my dad’s side, and two of my other special dolls. Here, I have only room for the  …  well, I’m still trying to figure what to keep and what to pitch. Coming to the realization that no one really wants my junk is a wee bit hard to accept. But it is my reality.

Back in the day, it wasn’t like today where you can go to any Walmart or some site on Amazon and order from millions of choices of dolls. Perhaps being from my background where my family had limited funds for frivolities, getting a new toy was a special event – especially when given by someone special. The primitive art used to create these dolls didn’t bother me a lick! My tiny, white-haired great- grandmother made the dolls for me! I can remember holding my babies and swinging by the hour. Much of the construction of the dolls is by hand which makes them even more special to me.

I tried to contact a local historical home whose contents resembled the same style of art. They never responded.

I contacted the Charles Goodnight Ranch (a museum and historical site) in north Texas. Because I am a descendent of his half-brother, Wes Sheek, I hoped they could find a spot for my beloved dolls. Alas, the dolls were fifty years too young to fit in with their collection.

For the moment, they are sitting on a chair in my living room area. I will try to contact a place in New Mexico suggested by one of my neighbors.

Or maybe I will sing a dirge and entomb them in a special burial chamber to join the rest of my landfill treasures.

Or maybe, I’ll just tuck them safely back into the garage into a clear storage tote so I can see them sometimes and remember.

Or dang it! I’ll put up a shelf and keep the precious treasures. I’ll let someone else pitch them when I kick!

Sounds like a good plan to me!

KATHARSES!

The Bible speaks of treasuring the past and telling future generations of God’s faithfulness. I think on the strength and the faith of the women in my family and the things they endured. Through my dolls, maybe I can encourage my family to keep walking with God and use what talents and materials they have to bless others for years to come..

Blessings

Kara Beth