What would happen if you pulled out one picture each week and wrote down the memory?
I grew up with my grandparents while mom worked two jobs to support us. That’s me at Christmas time, surrounded by Raggedy Ann and Andy paraphernalia. Probably grandpa was up late putting those little doll cribs and high chair together. Possibly mom had just retrieved them out of layaway from Montgomery Wards where she worked evenings.
Odd thing, though. I remember getting my first Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls when I was younger. In my memory, they appeared at the same time my baby bottle disappeared. Grandma and I had gone down the road to visit an older neighbor, and when we came back those yarn-haired beasties were sitting on the dining room table.
For at least twenty years, I have thought of Raggedy Ann and Andy with nothing but contempt.
So why now do I find a picture of me surrounded by their presence? Did I actually LIKE them once upon a time?