Cloth Dolls to Love

Today I am going to show you a collection of cloth dolls I collected a few years ago. I purchased them at an antiques shop. They are small, printed and embroidered, and each has a number at the bottom. I am wondering if anyone has any information about them (such as who the print manufacturer was and when they were printed). They are really charming! The "backs" are printed and embroidered, too. Hope you enjoy seeing them. All photos were taken by James Cummings.

There are seven of them in all. The boy with the dog and watermelons and the man playing a banjo make me think of these dolls as having a southern theme. They will all be going to a good home - to a collector of cloth dolls. I hope she enjoys them as much as I have!

Please leave a comment if you have any further information about them. Thanks!

Remembrances of Spain

Spain has been one of the hardest hit countries with corona virus. I have very good memories of living in the country while attending the university in Pamplona. The people are very warm and welcoming. I recall a peasant family who sat across from me on a train headed south when I chose to do some sightseeing over Christmas break. The family offered to share their loaf of bread with me although they clearly had very little themselves.

When I first arrived there to take a month long course in Spanish that I would encounter in various disciplines, depending on which courses I chose for the academic year, I was in class with other international students. Two of them became good friends. Chieko, a girl friend (from Japan) asked me to teach her more English even though she knew English pretty well. Whenever we were together, we conversed in Spanish. Masayuki was a Japanese boy in my class who offered to walk me home whenever it was raining. Although he was much shorter than me, he had an umbrella and would hold it high so I wouldn't get wet. He was so kind!

My first apartment was on the outskirts of town in a new high-rise (three stories high). In Spain, widows often rent out extra rooms in their apartments to students. Such was the case with both apartments where I lived. My first landlady kicked me out so that she could have three priests move in with her. She cooked for them at a local monastery. She was very nice but needed the income and I could not find other students who needed a place to live which left two bedrooms vacant.
The second apartment is one that I moved into with Pat, a woman (fellow student) from Australia. The landlady was elderly and suffered from very swollen legs. At Thanksgiving time, she and Pat put their heads together and made a special meal for me consisting of roast chicken, white asparagus, olives, and other foods, as well as flan for dessert.

I loved my travels through southern Spain checking out La Alhambra (an old Moorish castle), the cathedrals (which have a lot of beautiful sculptures and paintings), and the usual tourist attractions. The paella that I ate in Sevilla was memorable! At the university, I signed up for the History of Spanish Art and Architecture and German. I loved my studies.

Come February, I was back home and doing my student teaching at a NH high school. It is fun to revisit these memories of when I was young (21). I earned a certificate of "sobresaliente" for my university work (A+). I met lots of friends at the university including Gigi from Puerto Rico who lived in the equivalent of a dorm (which served meals and also had its own chapel). She often invited me for lunch and for the tertulia (meeting of friends with conversation and guitar music). That's where I learned a lot of Spanish songs. It was all a lot of fun!

What Would Mom Do?

In the wee hours of the morning, when I could not sleep, I got up and sat in my recliner and thought about my mother and how she would have reacted to the current crisis. In particular, I recalled one night when she was staying with us toward the end of her life. She had dementia and would wander at night. That night I found her sitting on the living room couch. I sat down next to her and in the poignancy of the moment and the stillness of the dark room, I started to cry realizing that she would not be with us much longer and would have to be institutionalized for her own safety and well-being. I put my head on her knee and she stroked my head, telling me not to cry and that it would be alright. Neither she nor I knew the heartache that would come for both of us as a result of her illness. She did not like being in a "home" and I felt guilty and sad that she needed to be there but it was what it was and there was no changing the course of events as they transpired.

Today I am feeling the same kind of vague anxiety about the future. None of us has a crystal ball that can predict who will get the much-dreaded corona virus that is killing thousands of Americans. We have government officials that are basically leaving interventions and guidelines up to the state governments. The federal government seems more interested in upholding private corporation's ability to make money from this situation. We are assured that things will get better but at what cost of life in the meantime?

My mother lived through the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918. She suffered through the Great Depression and all of the sacrifices people were asked to make during World War II. She worked at a factory, making $12.50 per week from the time she was a sophomore in high school and forced by her family to quit school for the much needed income and she worked there for 12 years until she married in 1937. At least her family of origin (13 people in all) was resourceful. Her father had a large garden and her mother and the three oldest siblings helped by canning food. Later in life, she came down with the Hong Kong flu and nearly hemorrhaged to death and would have died, had I not been on hand to call an ambulance.

Yes, Mom managed to escape death from several pandemics. She maintained a good attitude of "It's going to be alright!" Even though that word, "alright," may mean different things and may represent various outcomes, I can tell you that she lived to be 92, having outlived two of her children.

Somehow, the remembrance of her words soothes my soul. Like her, I feel that I am a survivor, having gone through a number of miserable experiences in my own life. For today, and in the comfort of my own home with no place to go and nothing to do but creative and intellectual pursuits, I believe her words. No matter the outcome, life will go on. The daffodils will still come up in the spring, the dandelions will blossom like clockwork, and people will live or die according to a Divine Plan of which we cannot know or imagine. "All is right with my soul," as the old hymn says.

Patricia Cummings
April 2020