Paper Dolls or How I Came to Value the Journey

My cousin, Joanne is a year older than I am. I was an only child until I was almost eight, so she was my first friend and a would be sibling. Because neither of our families had any money, vacations were not in the mix. There would be no summers at "the lake" or trips to California but … oh my goodness! My excursion on the Lisbon Avenue bus from 60th St. to 24th St. was, to me, more exciting than any world tour. My mother put me and my little suitcase on the bus at the departure point, and Auntie Frances and Joanne would be waiting for me at the 24th St. stop. The anticipation! Four wonderful days with my cousin. As I said, neither of our families had any money, but Joanne's family always seemed to be able to do stuff - movies, fish-frys, and the best - we always had new paper dolls.

Summers in Milwaukee were hot and humid and the huge elm trees by Joanne's little frame house provided cool shade on the front porch, where we played. And, as I remember there was also a quiet peacefulness in the green comfort surrounding us. These times were my first memories of feeling safe and content and happy.

But now back to the paper dolls. I usually chose Betty Grable and Joanne would want Rita Hayworth. Those were simple and uncomplicated times - just two little girls enjoying each other's company. We seemed to be driven to cut, cut, cut, and snip, snip, snip all the clothes out of the book at a breakneck speed - oh, to be finished with the work! And to be able to enjoy trying the clothes on the cardboard dolls! But, from the title of this story, you probably already know the end of the tale. Six years old is pretty young to grasp the value of the journey, but even though I couldn't articulate it - I KNEW it! I don't always remember this, but when I do, I have amazing journeys.