I had an American Girl doll then, too. Samantha Parkington. I once read she was discontinued, and thoughtlessly regretted not still having her to put up on eBay. I was reminded again recently when a friend sent me a Gawker article about the tourist-trap store in the city, which kind of surprised me, because it was another of those things I just assumed went the way of Popples and Skip-it and other things from my childhood that don't exist anymore. This is Samantha:
She's from the turn of the century, and the "stock" version of her came with a little velvet hat, a doll-sized locket, a coin purse, a handkerchief, and a copy of her first book. I had to pick her because she was the closest looking doll to me (brown hair; back then there were only three options, and none of them Asian. Now there are a zillion).
Each girl, from different historical periods in time, came with a series of books about her adventures, and along with that, somewhat historically accurate-ish accessories you could buy. I never got any accessories – the doll herself took months of wheedling and soul-destroying piano practicing to get for one Christmas/birthday gift – but that's where the real racket is, sort of like iTunes for the iPod. Actually I'm incredibly jealous that I didn't think of this, it's a great merchandising idea and I love history.
I read all the books, but I think I played with the doll for a couple months and forgot about her.
That's the funny thing about nostalgia. Something that wasn't even really a big deal at the time can dig its way into your psyche and hang on, forgotten about, until something pulls on it and opens a floodgate of memories. I remember the surprise when my mother let me open my gift on Christmas Eve, and feeling sort of disturbed by the laxness of her rules about holiday gift opening. I remember being disappointed by the plasticky smell of the doll, and how itchy her velvet hat was. Her shoes were cheap and hard to squeeze onto her weird doll feet, and I felt tricked and dismayed, but had to pretend to be ecstatic because I knew how difficult it was for my parents to save the money for the stupid doll. It was one of the first times in my life I remember realizing that just because you want something, doesn't guarantee it'll live up to your expectations when you get it. And if other people are involved, sometimes you have to swallow your disappointment and move on.
I did continue reading all the books, though. Nobody can really ruin your imagination for you, and there were some good educational lessons in them about tolerance and change and loss. Looking back, I'm thankful even for the disillusionment. It probably helped me in coping with other, more adult-level disappointments later on.
