Mrs. Beasley

When I was 5, this little doll was my world,  oh how I loved her.  

To this day I can still remember the day I got her.  It was Christmas day, 1971.  I woke up early that year, I was four so Christmas had just really gotten exciting for me by then and that excitement woke me early.  No one else was out of bed except me, but my body would no longer allow me to stay in bed and wait.  I had to get up and go downstairs to see what Santa had left. 

We lived in a 100 yr old limestone home.  Our house had been built for some prominent member of the community 100 yrs before, and do to that stature this house was one of the more lofty ones on our block.  There were rooms in our house that we didn't even use unless it was a momentous occasion, and Christmas was one of those.  At Christmas time the doors of the "formal" living room were opened, and we were allowed to go in and enjoy the season there.   The tree was always put in that room, so therefore that is where Santa would come and leave the gifts.  We all had our special "areas" in the room, and that is where our gifts would be.  It was in my special place in that room that I found her, she was sitting on a chair, not unlike the one in the picture, for me to find her. She was the very first thing, well actually the only thing I saw when I entered that room in the early morning hours that Christmas morning.

She had this wonderful smell, one that I can remember to this day, and she was so soft to the touch.  I grabbed her up quickly and gave her a hug, like the ones you would give to a long lost friend.  This was the most amazing gift Santa could have ever given me, and was I thrilled.

I had been watching the show "Family Affair" for some time at this point, and I had wanted a Mrs. Beasley doll like crazy.  My favorite character on the show was "Buffy".  She was a small girl, with cute little pig tails and had a sweet way about her.  I wanted her to be my friend, but knowing that was not possible, having a doll just like hers would have to suffice. 

I asked Santa for a Mrs. Beasley every chance I got.  I asked the one that I met at the IGA after the parade.  I sat on his lap and told him that having a Mrs. Beasley doll would make me so happy, and that was all that I wanted.  I wrote a letter to Santa, and mailed it to the North Pole.  In that letter I expressed how much I loved Buffy, and that having a doll like hers would make me a very happy little girl.  I even remember telling my daycare teacher about the doll I just had to have.  I covered all my basis, and hoped that somehow I would be giving my wish on Christmas morning. 

I don't remember anything else from that Christmas, but I will never forget what I received.  That doll and I became inseparable.  I took her everywhere with me, except to daycare, she had to stay home and wait for me to come back.  I never had anything that meant so much to me before. 

Children sure do love their things at that age.  Zeb never had a doll, or even a stuffed animal desire at that age, but he did like his things.  I think when Zeb was 4 he got a toy piano that he absolutely loved.  He sat at it for hours and played and played, until the think stopped and never worked again.  He never actually asked for anything at that point, actually he has just started asking for things now. 

                             

One day, after returning home from the babysitter I discovered my precious Mrs. Beasley under the couch, her head decapitated. I was absolutely devastated to say the least.  My doll was dead, and I was beside myself.  I cried for 3 days nonstop.  Nothing was going to make me feel better, nothing was going to take the pain away.  I was gone!

It turns out that my brother decided to kill my doll.  I loved it, he killed it.  Not long after the discovery he came to me and told me he did it.  He had a smile on his face and was thrilled that I was upset.  I will never forget that look, and no, he didn't ever get punished for it, as my parents decided that it was the dog and not him that did this to my doll.  No, there were no teeth marks, no there were no big tears in it, no bit marks anywhere else.  Nope, the dog didn't do it, he did and he just got away with it.

My grandmother on my dads side took my doll and within a few days had her fixed.  She had to use the apron that was on the doll to attach the head back on, but she was able to make her whole again.  It really didn't matter, she was really never the same.  The doll had gone from a symbol of happiness for me to a symbol of evil.  I knew what had happened, and no one seemed to care.

A year or so later my parents bought me another Mrs. Beasley, but she wasn't the same either.  I never really loved her the way I had the first one.  I don't know, maybe by that time I was past the age for that doll, maybe I had moved onto new toys, I don't know what it was but I do know it was never the same for me.

There is nothing like the feeling of receiving the thing you wanted so badly.  When we are kids those things are simple, easy to give things, when we get older they are harder to get and harder to receive.  I know that I will never forget what it felt like that Christmas morning, and because I have never forgotten that feeling I strive every year to create that same feeling for my son.  There is nothing like seeing their eyes light up at the sight of that something special.  I love Christmas morning for that reason, and I really hope that never ends for him.   I know I am living in a fantasy world if I think that he will always have that light, but for now I know he does and I am going to enjoy it for all it's worth.