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As a little girl, you can’t put into words what really matters. When you look back on your life you know that you have a better understanding of the meaning of something. The explanation for this comes in three different explanations and small views of what I mean.
Dagny was the tenth child from a poor family in rural Denmark. She is my husband’s mother’s sister and she is the youngest of many siblings. The family has lost their home just as his father warned his brother on his farm. I’m sure the kids weren’t used to having toys. I had heard about the doll with Dagny, and at a party recently I asked her about it.
Dagny is a doll
One of my older sisters married Luis, a Spanish sailor who once brought back a large and beautiful doll from a trip to England. Her children were too young to enjoy the toy so I, who was 6 years old at the time in 1938, was allowed to have the toy. In March 1940 his ship capsized in the Atlantic Ocean and Luis’ uncle lost his life. My mother told me to give the toy to Luis’s girls who should now have the toy. I cried and walked a long way to my relatives and brought them back. Then when I talked with my younger cousins I found out that my toy had been changed into a boy’s toy and I didn’t know that they cared about the toy. My mother did not mention sitation.
Henry, my husband, wrote to his uncle Luis that a Danish ship bound for Morocco was blown up by a German ship even before Denmark entered the war. This article is in Danish and can be translated by Google on the page if you want to read about him.
I have a friend from Copenhagen who is 6 years older than me. He had beautiful toys that I would love to have. We have known each other for the past 22 years, and he has told me a lot about his childhood. He felt that his mother hated him. If he wanted to play the flute like his brother he would have to play the piano instead. As a very young child, she said she wanted to be a nurse, and her mother kept reminding her even though her aspirations were completely different. She was forced into nursing school and had to leave right after she started. His mother did not understand him, and he ran away from his parents by marrying early. Her husband was more violent than her mother, and she later became mentally ill and ended up in a mental institution.
Anne-Marie is a weaver and she makes carpets. These pictures do not show that she was lonely and unhappy as a girl. It seems that he had beautiful clothes and beautiful toys, but the emotional scars did not leave him. If old photos are of interest to you, I wrote a post from when he was a child during the independence days of May 1945.
AM is his toy pram and toy
AM is a toy made by a cousin
AM cane doll
I knew that my mother loved me and I also knew that she would not buy me things that Anne-Marie drew. I dreamed and woke up with a doll and a pram or a baby like Anne-Marie.
Today I am very grateful that I knew that my mother loved me when I was a teenager and I became very difficult. Here are a few of my father’s writings. My mother. More about my mother and my houses
Me and my doll July 1957
To pay for the missing baby toys and prams, I have a collection now akin to a toy museum.
What is a good childhood? Are you secure in your parents’ love and do you get your heart’s desires?
Today’s parents know more about the needs of children today than before but I still think that the right one is hard to find and if you get all your wishes it would be difficult to grow up and manage life?