Jill's Journal: Living in a Barbie world

I was a Barbie freak growing up. I spent many of my childhood years living in Barbie’s world, a world where there was no shortage of fashion, fame and fortune. After all, Barbie had a house, a car, a camper, a swimming pool, and of course, the boyfriend, the ever attentive, Ken. And to think she had it all without having a job.

Last winter, with some time on my hands, I spent an afternoon at my Mom’s sorting through a closet that held a wealth of my childhood. Dolls and dishes, a baby crib and buggy, an old skateboard, a music stand, a couple of comical diaries, a baton, report cards, stuffed animals, my school letter(wo)man’s jacket, a bunch of junk that had me wondering why I felt the need to pack it up and keep it all these years, and of course, Barbie’s world.

My collection of all-things Barbie included a wooden Barbie doll closet – painted in a pretty shade of pink – that featured my name in bold, black lettering. The chest was hand-crafted by my Uncle Frank, a high school shop and ag teacher. I was quite familiar with the chest, as Uncle Frank had built a couple for his own daughters, Linda and Deb, both a few years older than I. And I, of course, delighted in stepping into their Barbie world on occasional visits there.

I well remember the Schultz family Christmas gathering where I received the pink Barbie doll closet from Uncle Frank and Aunt Betty. The gift – one of the biggest under the tree that year – was heavy, and this little 8-year-old was clearly perplexed what the box contained. I well remember the heavenly feeling I had as I unwrapped the wooden Barbie doll closet – painted in a pretty shade of pink. I, too, now had my very own pink Barbie doll closet, just like Linda and Deb. And I couldn’t wait to fill it up with dolls and clothes and play time.

With no little girls of my own – and an aunt to three now-grown boys – to pass my Barbie world on to, I was grateful when our family gained great-nieces Makena and Karly. And I did just that on a chilly February afternoon.

Karly’s eyes lit up as I paraded in with the vintage toys. You would’ve thought Christmas came in February!

“Is this for us?” Karly asked in a hopeful tone of voice.

“It sure is!” I excitedly answered. “It’s all yours!”

I mentioned to Karly that Barbie’s car and camper were still “parked in the garage” at Great-Grandma’s house, and inquired if she was interested.

“Nah, I already have a camper and jeep,” she said.

“How about a pool?” I asked. “I have one of those, too.”

“Yep!” she was quick to answer. “We had one, but ours has a hole in it!”

As the girls and I sorted through the dolls and clothes, I tried to explain to Karly the history behind the 45-year-old magic pink box. But, at 7, when you’ve just been presented with a wealth of “new/old” toys, she wasn’t fully tuning in. In fact, she was just as intrigued by the wooden Barbie doll closet – painted in a pretty shade of pink – as I remember being at her age.

“Maybe someday,” I suggested, “you can pass this on to your little girl.”

In the midst of her excitement for the “new/old” Barbie dolls and the closet full of clothes, she looked at me with her big blue eyes, and softly answered, “OK.”

Someday, just as I have, I hope Karly looks back on this chilly afternoon in February and fondly remembers when her Great Aunt Jill walked through the door with the 45-year-old Barbie doll closet – painted in a pretty shade of pink.