Bubbie's Dolls

"I want to give you your Bubbie's doll collection," said Jeremy's mom, Betsy, in 2005, shortly after Bubbie's death.

My husband, Jeremy, was please.  He adored his Bubbie.  Bubbie adored her dolls.  Hence, Jeremy adored the dolls.  Bubbie began collecting dolls in the 1950's until her death over fifty years later.  At the time, Jeremy just wanted something by which to remember Bubbie.

The years went by.  We moved to London, then to New York. 

"I really want to get these dolls to you.  I know Bubbie would want you to have them," Betsy would tell us again ... year after year after year.

By this point, we had mixed feelings.  It was 2011.  We had KZ, who was three years old.  A perfect age for dolls, but not the Madame Alexander doll collection that I've been hearing about.  And just where would we being putting this collection?  We live in New York City.  We are lucky to fit three people and two dogs into our apartment, let alone a doll collection.  But then again, I had no idea how big the collection would be.  For all I knew, it could have been one Barbie from the '90's.  Jeremy did feel strongly about receiving the dolls.  He wanted to pass them on to KZ, who is actually named Kaylia, after Bubbie.  It did seem right that she have them, or at least whatever "them" would turn out to be.

"I found a shipper who will take the dolls for $550.  The only caveat is that he'll bring them up to New York the next time he has a full truck.  We don't know when that will be,"  Betsy announced over email.

Fine, I'll hold my breath. 

Then last week, my cell phone rings. 

"Hello, I'm looking for Mrs. Katz," the caller said.

"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong number," I said.

In the amount of time it would take a person to hang up and redial a phone, my house phone rang.  I now thought this is not a wrong number.

"Hello, I'm looking for Mrs. Katz," the same caller said.

"I'm not Mrs. Katz, but my mother-in-law's maiden name is Katz.  Since you just called my cell and now my house phone, I'm going to guess you want to talk to me."

The driver had the dolls and would be over that afternoon between 3-5 pm. 

"That's fine.  Just leave them with the doorman, please."

"Ok, but there is a $550 COD, in cash payment that is required."

I just found another caveat to the delivery. 

The driver was on Florida time, which made the true delivery time the following day around 1 pm.  I had left the cash with the doorman and just asked to have the boxes dropped off.

We arrived home to the Great Wall of Boxes.

It took me until last night to inventory the boxes.  I carefully unwrapped each box, discovering a lifetime of passion.  Bubbie kept most of these dolls in mint condition -- tags, original boxes, even plastic wrapped.  But truly fascinating to me were the hand written notes and newspaper clippings.  Letters to the Madame Alexander company asking for doll identification, or repairs.  Correspondence between Betsy and Bubbie.  Hand made get well cards from all the "kids", who are all adults with their own kids.  And even the newspaper clipping from The Toronto Daily Star announcing Jeremy's birth. 

The sixty dolls are not worth that much monetarily.  I looked each up on eBay to get an estimate.  Ironically, the two with the most value are the two in the worse condition.  Jeremy said that Bubbie let them play with those two dolls for some reason.  My speculation on the reason, the money didn't matter to her.  What mattered was the enjoyment, the pleasure of collecting, the pleasure of letting her grandchildren play.  She keep the price tags on some of the dolls.  Many are worth only what she paid for them originally.  But I don't think that would matter.  I believe that having a part of her passed down to her great grand daughter would be worth it. 

Going through these dolls reminded me of my own dolls as a girl.  I've written about one in the past, and will post it as my next entry.

Bubbie, thank you for the memories.