I got a few gifts (a.k.a. stories) from several readers this week, so enjoy the fun like I did!
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My sister and I got Ginny dolls, clothes, furniture and homemade bedding the same Christmas that I ended up in the hospital for an emergency appendectomy (also age 8). Still have those dolls in my attic. Too loved to throw away, probably too worn to sell on Etsy.
LeAnne, northwestern Wisconsin
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During a trip to Twisp, Washington, to visit relatives, my siblings and I got a gift of adjustable stilts made by my Uncle Quinton. I was about five years old at the time and started six inches off the ground with the stilts. After several years of practicing with them, I raised it up to probably about three or four feet off the ground. I screwed some straps onto the foot pegs and wrapped straps around my legs (that were attached to the handles), so I was able to walk without holding on. I was pretty short, so I had to use something to help me get up on the stilts, but for the most part, could walk without falling. When I did trip and fall, though, it was pretty treacherous because I didn't make the straps breakaway; they were firmly attached and didn't come off. But no broken bones or stitches to remember those magical sticks by.
In my forties, I rekindled the joy of stilt-walking. Maybe instead of “it's just like riding a bike,” it should be “it's just like walking on stilts” because I still had some pretty impressive skills after all those years.
Bernard, Chickamauga, Georgia
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My paternal grandparents knew how horse-crazy I was. So, Christmas of '78 I received a stuffed horse animal. I still have her today! Her mane and tail were "enhanced" when I was 13 by a family friend. But as you can tell from the picture, this old chestnut mare is still kinda what she used to be!
Shantell, Maple Grove, Minnesota
P.S. Raggedy Andy was given to me by my maternal grandparents. Anne had an unfortunate accident with a flooded basement and mold.
(Note from Tamara: I offered my condolences to Andy for the loss of Anne but found out he's been dating an American Girl doll, so he's doing much better.)
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.