The Doll's House

My copy of The Doll's House by Rumer Godden is beautifully illustrated by Tasha Tudor, who died last month.

It's the story of a family of dolls, and especially of a doll named Tottie Plantaganet, a little wooden doll, more that one hundred years old at the time of the story, who is inherited by Emily and Charlotte from their great-grandmother.

The dolls long to live in a doll house rather than a shoe box; but when the girls inherit a doll's house from their great-great aunt, the house that Tottie used to live in, it comes with a fancy china doll named Marchpane, Tottie's arch-enemy who almost ruins everything.

Any girl who has ever played with dolls or longed for a doll's house will love this story. I never had a doll's house, but I did have two china dolls who longed to live in one. They had two little wicker chairs and a table and that's about it. Though truth be told, I'm the sort of personality who would have had a great time with a doll's house for a few days and then get bored and never touched it again. I know because I did that with so many other toys.

In any case, I love the way Godden spins this story from the doll's point of view. The dolls are aware of their own limitations, they can wish for things but they cannot do anything apart from what the children make them do. I like the way the dolls' personalities are partly determined by the substances they are made of. It's also interesting to learn a little of the history of the various dolls.

There's also a beautiful story of self-sacrifice that raises this sweet tale into something a little more substantial.

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Distressed

We bought our kitchen table and chairs despite the faux-distressed look: regular nail holes at the same two places on every chair back, the stain rubbed away at the same spot on each rail. They were the right height and shape and a nice dark stain and I could live with the small fake imperfections.

And I must confess I was a little distressed when the first real scratch happened, just months after the purchase-- our first real furniture acquired before we were even married. The pale slash across the seat of one of the chairs was a terrible wound.

But tonight I pause before I turn out the kitchen light and I notice the myriad little marks on the chair where Bella customarily perches. All the little dings from her plastic booster, the smear of yogurt on the back, the tiny little scratches from eating implements and daily use. I pause and I smile. These are the marks, honestly won, that no designer can imitate. These are the marks that say: Here there be children.

And I am sure this table, if it survives the next decade, will win many more such honest battle scars. And look more and more read, more and more loved. Because it will say to my mother's eyes: Bella was here. Sophia was here.

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The Meaning of Freedom, Repost

I posted this last year, but it bears repeating in honor of the Fourth of July. Happy Independence Day!


While re-reading all of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books, I was really struck by this one passage from Little Town on the Prairie in the chapter, "The Fourth of July":

Suddenly she had a completely new thought. The Declaration [of Independence] and the song [My Country 'Tis of Thee] came together in her mind, and she thought: God is America's king.

She thought: Americans won't obey any king on earth. Americans are free. That means they have to obey their own consciences. No king bosses Pa; he has to boss himself. Why (she thought), when I am a little older, Pa and Ma will stop telling me what to do, and there isn't anyone else who has the right to give me orders. I will have to make myself be good.

Her whole mind seemed to be lighted up by that thought. This is what it means to be free. It means you have to be good. "Our father's God, author of liberty--" The laws of Nature and Nature's God endow you with a right to life and liberty. Then you have to keep the laws of God, for God's law is the only thing that gives you the right to be free.

Such a simple but profound idea. Once this connection could be made by a schoolgirl without much of an education at all, just a few years at most in various one-room school houses and some tutorials with her mother. Now how many Americans could grasp this concept? How many would scream "separation of church and state!" horrified that God might be mentioned in conjunction with public life? How many Americans can even reason so clearly any more? How many have such a clear moral sense and such a well-formed conscience and such a clear understanding of the relationship between public and private life?

We don't have the kind of Independence Day celebrations that Laura describes, at least not I've ever been to. Sure we have fireworks displays; but for the most part those have been disconnected from the sort of communal celebration where the reading of the Declaration combines with singing of patriotic songs and a picnic atmosphere. Well, maybe they still do in some small towns and it's just that I've always lived in the city. Anyway, reading tis filled me with longing for that earnest patriotism which seems to be rare these days.

Yet another reason why I'll definitely be reading these books to Bella. I love Laura's story telling, her vivid descriptions, I love the Christian values and the love of country, and the sense of a particular, fleeting moment in this nation's history. I think one could do worse for a role model for a young girl.

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A Quiet Fourth

I got to sleep in this morning, a rare holiday treat. Sophia's no longer my sleep all night baby and has been waking up every couple of hours and thinking that 4 am is play time. Which is exactly the time of night that I find it hardest to drag myself from bed and stay calm and collected, much less pleasant.

Some people do spring cleaning. We were a little busy this spring with our new arrival. So we're doing summer cleaning. Yes, I finally packed away the winter coats and hats and scarves and mittens. Dom is doing a thorough cleaning of the kitchen, which it definitely needs.

I'm also making lemon-poppyseed bread. I had a black bean and corn salsa with avocados for lunch, with watermelon for dessert. Hot dogs for dinner, if the weather permits. I'm contemplating making up a bowl of taboule too, just because.

It's one of those New England wet days of summer, the temperature is in the lower seventies and all the windows are open to catch the deliciously cool breezes. You don't get days like this in Texas between June and September. There, even if it rains, it's still hot.

Laughing at Sophia who is managing to cram both her thumb and her big toe into her mouth at the same time. And watching Sophia laughing at her sister. Delightful.

Even if the weather were conducive to fireworks we wouldn't be going tonight, though I dearly love them. But the main point would be to watch Bella oooh and aaaah and since she's the girl who covers her ears when a big truck drives by the house and who covers her ears, whimpers and runs away when I run the blender, food processor, or vacuum cleaner.... yeah, I don't even want to see what her reaction would be to things that make loud booms. Even if they are pretty to look at. The only reason I can see for keeping her up past her bedtime would be to entertain her, not to traumatize the poor dear. Maybe next year....

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