This is NOT the Schroeder Toy I received. Apparently the soft doll is more rare!
Jean McCaffery gave me a stuffed Shroeder doll – you know,
the piano playing character from the Peanuts comic strip? - at one of my many
birthday parties. My mother always
required I invite all the girls in my class. This was cool: I liked all of
them, so it was a pleasure to schlep everyone – usually in the snow – up and
over the hill on Hawthorne Avenue, east of Linden Avenue School.
It must’ve been in third grade when I unwrapped this gift. I usually wore two braids, but I am betting on this very special day I got to wear my long brown hair down my back.
I don’t remember if I liked Shroeder before, but after that day, I was truly enamored with the character and this doll which was actually more like a pillow – perhaps a precursor to today’s Pillow-Pet toy.
I can clearly remember those dies resting on my belly, looking down at the brown floral bedspread that matched my sisters and truly did nothing for me. I can still feel my left cheek against the pillow. I had one, only. It often had the book I was reading underneath it for easy access once Mom thought I was asleep.
Every morning I would pull Shroeder from his resting place and feel thankful for him.
I don’t know whatever became of him. Such a sad confession.
I know after I visited my family on the west coast when I was in seventh grade, I started sharing my bed with a bedraggled Smokey Bear who had a broken belt buckle and was passed from family member to family member. I loved tradition. I longed for tradition. I suppose I still do.
Recently I arrived at the Smith College campus, completely warn out after a rather, well, lets just say less than stellar red-eye flight. It was late morning on a Monday. My daughter Katherine had classes - she was the entire point of me making this trip.
I don't actually have a photo of Matilda, but here is a penguin version from Julie Monday - who graciously allows this photo to be used under the creative commons license at Flickr.com
An aside - some one recently accused me of loving my children too much. I think this is impossible. Perhaps it is because I would have loved such attention when I was young that I make it such a high priority in my life.
Katherine had classes to attend so I rested on her dorm room bed. I couldn't help but grab her pillow pet, Matilda the cow, and hug her close to my heart. I fell asleep nearly instantly.
Later that afternoon Katherine came into her room and said, "It was so cute! When I came in here you were all cuddled up with Matilda!" I slept with her for the entire visit. Katherine says she can't sleep with her because she would throw her across the room.
My lovies - my stuffed toys, my children's stuffed toys - remain a comfort to me. I suppose it will be this way forever.
I don't mind one bit.
This post is a part of the May series for NaBloPoMo at BlogHer.com
Check out other Comfort NaBloPoMo Blog Posts here.
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© 2013 Julie Jordan Scott
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Please stay in touch:
Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot
Be sure to "Like" WritingCampwithJJS on Facebook. (Thank you!)
Follow on Instagram
And naturally, on Pinterest, too!
© 2013 Julie Jordan Scott
