Because of her, I learned the hard way that, eventually, you have to let go of the things you love.
I'm sure I begged my mother for her.
And I'm sure Chatty (I called her that, never Cathy) was the doll I loved most because she's the only one I remember.
(Albeit, I also had a purple Easter bunny, whom I called “Bunny,” who hung in with me to at least a couple of my singleton apartment moves.)
I'm also sure I was so gaga over Chatty because she was the doll everyone was talking about. She was introduced in 1962 and enjoyed a solid run through the mid-1980s. Her not-so-witty repertoire grew from six to sixteen phrases.
I mean, come on! Who wouldn't want a doll who talked back?
…Until she didn't.
I can't remember if her string broke or if she fell off a shelf one time too many. I do remember being so upset that my mother sent Chatty to a “doll hospital”—
Twice.
And then, she didn't come back again.
It was the first time I dealt with loss.
I don't remember how my mother diverted me from the question of Chatty's disappearance, but eventually, I quit asking.
And, in time, I quit caring because I'd grown too old for dolls.
By that time, we'd moved to a different house. After my mother's death, I went into the attic to see what was up there.
I found Chatty.
Like most parents, her memory of my love for the doll made it her keepsake.
I can relate since I've held on to a few precious items my kids have outgrown.
Hopefully, not too soon, but soon enough, it will be theirs again.
In childhood, did you have a favorite plaything? Well, of course you did. Tell me about it.
