One of the First Talking Dolls

I have been thinking about dolls lately. When I was a little girl, my mother enrolled me in a doll of the month club where I would receive a foreign doll every month. My mother kept these dolls in a white glass cabinet on our side porch and told me to not touch. Well, she'd often catch me playing with them anyway - not because I was bad, but just because I couldn't manage to stay away from them.

When my mother died, I decided to begin adding to my collection, because it makes me feel close to my mother, and I want to pass the collection down to my daughter someday. So I have been frequenting estate sales.

It all began with this doll - a doll passed down to me from my great-grandmother. She used to wear a red velvet dress, but it fell apart over the years.

Another interesting doll I bought from an estate sale is a Patsyette doll, who will be one of my favorite dolls in my collection because I spent $100 for her. When I came home, my husband nearly dropped his teeth at what I'd paid for her, but - unless all Milleniums shun collecting dolls - she might be worth more in future years.

Anyway, dolls have been on my mind lately, so I wondered about the first talking dolls, and I ran across this great article about how Edison created one of the first talking dolls. Here's the link for your reading pleasure: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/epic-failure-thomas-edisons-talking-doll-180955442/

Another article I found interesting was one about Queen Elizabeth's childhood toys. Had I had the money, I would have bid on them at auction, but they're out of my range. I Wouldn't it be great to have one of her early dolls, though? Here's the link: http://people.com/royals/own-a-piece-of-queen-elizabeths-childhood-her-slightly-creepy-dolls-are-up-for-auction/

Then, of course, there's my Chatty Cathy doll - my only large doll that I still have after we lost everything when our home was foreclosed on. Her talk box has died, so she just mumbles now, but I still love her. My daughter, on the other hand, is freaked out by her and hid her in a box beneath a bunch of clothes when she was a child. Sometimes when I look at the doll's glassy eyes, I get a bit creeped out, too - but she's a part of my childhood.

I've told my daughter that she doesn't have to keep all of my dolls after I'm gone. I know it could be a burden to her, so I told her to just take a photo of each one instead and then sell them. Only a few are worth much, but I still love collecting them. Each one has a story to tell, and that appeals to me. One doll in particular that I bought after my mother died - Poor Pitiful Pearl - engaged me with her story. Here it is: http://seesaw.typepad.com/blog/2009/11/william-steig-poor-pitiful-pearl.html