On Being a Historical Figure
My girls are into the American Girl dolls. Every year for Christmas they look forward to either getting a new doll or some accessory for a doll they already have. Hey, I love the fact that my girls are still into dolls and not so interested in having their eyeballs glued to a computer screen.
Now, here’s the rub. Here’s my latest (and only) beef with the American Girl company. They have a line of “historical dolls,” dolls modeled after girls from different time periods in American history. There’s Felicity from the American Revolution, Josephina, a girl of Mexican descent in the 1820’s, Addy from 1864, Kit from 1934, and Molly from the WWII era, to name a few. Each doll has a book that tells that girls’ story, history lessons, and so forth. Each doll also has various outfits from the time period, funiture, accessories, etc. all fit to the time period in which the girl lives. Very cool stuff.
But . . . a few months ago I came home from work only to have my girls tell me I was now “historical.” What? Here they had received the new American Girl catalog only to find out the newest “historical” figure was Julie, girl of the 1970s.
What? You gotta be kidding me. Puh-lease. I grew up in the 70s! I’m not historical! Sure I may be getting some gray hair and my joints may be a little more stiff than they used to be, and I remember seeing KISS in concert and when skateboards first got big (even though they were little and skinny then). Okay, so I remember seeing Star Wars (the real Star Wars) in the theatre. I had an Atari 2600. My bike had a big ole banana seat. I’m a child of the 70s, but I’m not historical. Please don’t go there. Not yet.