My Doll, Named Dale
Quite some time ago, I told a short story about a beautiful, large ragdoll.
How excited I was when I was told about many different dolls.
How fast I climbed the stairs to the extra space in a loft for all kind of French and Italian items the owner of the shop purchased.
How I reacted in finding just the right doll.
How fast I gave the doll her name.
One look at the doll and she to me was the image of my dearest, beloved sister. All that it existed of was linen material, yarn for the hair and big brown button eyes, yet she represented for me an image, a clear vision of my sister, I lost long ago, but still had her in my heart. She was to me, my Dale. The shop was in Portland, Oregon and at that time my husband Hal and I lived in Vancouver, Washington. It was one of my favorite stores. Certain times a year, the owner, Kathleen Rockwell travelled to Europe in search of very beautiful and unusual items, had them shipped and offered them in her beautiful store. On her last trip she discovered beautiful dolls in France, and she told me about them, when I came to visit her store.
Now I would like to tell the story of how the name “Dale” came about.
In Germany, depending on the geographical location and (Dialect) one would be able to describe the item, a noun, with attaching the ending of: “chen, le, or lein on the noun to tell if this item is small, petit, little or cute. For instance, if I would want to describe a small, petite or cute dog, I could just use the noun dog “Hund” and end it in chen, le, or lein. Like a Hundchen, Hundele or Hundelein. Just the noun transformed with these endings. My sister Frederika’s name was for a small child rather hard to properly pronounce. So, my father who took “his little lady” in the car quite often, shopping for lovely items for her, used the shortened version of Frederika, Frieda.
And since she was only maybe three, four or five, he would use the ending for little or cute and her name would be Friedale. When my sister started to talk, she would of course only grasp part of this name: Dale. When I came into this family and started speaking, hearing this name Dale, for me then, she was always Dale. As my sister grew up and the Name Dale or Friedale was no longer suitable for her and Frieda interfered with one of my mother’s sister’s names, it was changed to Friedl.
But for me, in my mind and in my heart this very important lady in my life always has been “My Dale”.
The doll Dale has always been admired. How a doll made from only linen, yarn and big buttons can possess such attractiveness and personality is hard to explain, but my Hal’s sister Bev fell in love with her too.
Two Christmas’ ago, I dressed Dale in a white linin dress, red ribbon with a big bow around her waist and in her yarn-hair both sides, big red bows.
I surprised my beloved Bev with this lovely gift, my Dale.
This charming story about Dale, the rest of the story, is filled with love, and woven with interesting anecdotes from Ilona’s childhood and more recent life. Thank you Marcie and Ilona, for sharing this wonderful story!
Whew! I’m so glad to know how the name “Dale” came to be for that sweet doll. And, yes, that doll certainly does resemble Friedl. This was a charming little tale, just like all the others. No matter what Ilona writes, it is always filled with such warm and loving details. I always feel like I am dwelling the the very scene she is describing. Time travel. Almost like taking a little trip to an exciting part of the world! Thanks dear Ilona.