For more Friday nights growing up than I can count in elementary school, I got to ride the school bus home with Cheryl. Suppertime came early in their home, and then came riding on her tandem bike, playing around the farm, or in her little community.
But come dark, it was time to get out the Barbies and play until our eyes could no longer stay open. Cheryl and her sister had such treasures as a Barbie car and I'm pretty sure, if memory serves, a Barbie Dream House. They had a Ken for the Barbies to swoon after, and lots of cool Barbie clothes, including a faux mink coat.
The Barbies I'm showing are Barbie, Skipper and Midge. These girls played hard! They worked hard! Only after I was grown did little girls start owning fancy Barbies who were too pretty or special to play with. Not my girls.
They are treasures of little to zero value on the market (sorry girls, but your bangs situation depleted your retail status). But to me, they are my Barbies and I'm keeping them.
Do you have your Barbies?
I talk about my Barbies and so many other things in my new memoir, There's a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go. It's on Amazon, or you can get it from me as soon as my books arrive by Feb. 12.
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