Wednesday, January 2, 2013

the love of both

This picture was taken in the early fifties. I am guessing this because my brother was born in 1950 and he looks about three or four don't you think?
I'm sorry at times like this that I am last born and missed out on the plethora of early pictures that first born children enjoy.
Childhood photos of me are as scarce as hen's teeth.
Still, I treasure these moments captured of my older siblings.
I do remember those dolls. They were made out of a tan oilcloth with painted hair and features. My brother's hobby horse was probably cut from the same cloth, no pun intended.
It is possible that my grandmother was the toymaker. There is something about them that reminds me of her. I just can't put my finger on it.
There is a magic about handmade toys.
When children play with them, when they are scooped into waiting arms, they take on a life of their own. They reflect back the charm and liveliness of children.
They become infused with joy;
Infused with the love of both the toymaker and the child.
Perhaps that's it.

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