A Doll Named Katherine with a "K"

In the middle of November in 1994, my husband and I left Louisiana to set up for a weekend Christmas Extravaganza Show in Texas. We had reserved our hotel room two weeks in advance and all of my cloth dolls were packed in boxes in the trailer that we towed behind our truck. Set up time started on  Friday afternoon, and I was ready to sell dolls hoping that the people there would accept my Cajun cloth dolls along with the stories that I told about my family Cajun heritage. While I was packing the dolls, there was one doll that kept falling out of the box. I must have put her back in the box about three times before I taped the box shut.

The show was going to open on the Saturday and Sunday inside of a huge Civic Center. There were at least five beautiful churches that surrounded the area, all of them made of brick with architecture that was similar to the churches down home, but I wanted to visit all of them and take some photos. I have three photo albums of the inside of different churches that we visited when we traveled with the dolls. 

This day was very chilly. The city had decorations of angels and wreaths tacked to the lamp posts along the highway. The chilly winds added to the festive atmosphere. Tall, plastic, red, candles that lit up at night, lined the electric poles along the service road. Dark green wreaths with big red bows and balls were hanging on the front doors of all of the local shops. Christmas trees were lit up in the front show windows along with snow flakes sprayed around the windows, but there was no real snow outdoors. It wasn''t  that cold, just a chilly wind blowing. 

We checked into our hotel room. After unpacking our clothes, we left the hotel with our trailer full of dolls and headed for the Civic Center. Showing our parking pass to the attendant in the parking lot, we started to unload all of the dolls. The same doll with a red flower on her dress and in her hair fell out of the box again when I peeled the tape off the box. I placed her back on top of the opened box because I wasn''t ready to display them on the shelves yet.

For each show, I always had a selection of about 100 dolls. I had two white racks that stood 4 feet high with shelves that my husband made for the dolls, and they fit our 10 x 20 booth space perfect in an L shape around the corner booth. I also had a huge wagon that I placed the dolls in, and the wagon had the names of the dolls on it for advertising. Next to the wagon I placed my table to collect payments when I sold a doll. 

My husband set up the wooden racks, and I filled each shelf on the rack with all of the cloth dolls that I brought to sell. Again the same doll with the red flowers on her dress kept falling off of the shelf. I would pick her up and place her back up on the shelf. Three times I picked her up from the floor. I continued to decorate my space in a holiday theme. All of the vendors did the same, and the huge building was beginning to come together well with the holiday show setting. 

Christmas music was playing. Coffee and hot biscuits were being served. Vendors came from many surrounding states as well as from the Texas area. Everyone said a quick hello while we chit chat to introduce ourselves. We all worked hard to get our booth display in order before 6:00 pm when it was time to close the center. As I walked past the rows of vendor booths, I saw the names of each company displayed on the curtain backdrop of each space. The building was full. Each space was arranged so that the public could shop in the 300 plus small spaces in one weekend. And indeed each space looked like the inside of a shop. I expected to have a great show this weekend.

When my display was completed and filled with my cloth dolls, I walked around the building to talk to the some of the other vendors. People who weren’t from Louisiana recognized our Cajun accent and knew that we had the booth with the Cajun dolls. 

“I bet you guys have that Cajun booth over there?” many would ask. “How do you say the name of the dolls that’s on that wagon?”

We would just laugh and answer, “Oh yea, that’s our booth. The dolls are called Cajun Sha Bebe Dolls, and they’re Cajun because I’m Cajun and I say Sha Bebe a lot.” This was the first time that I heard other people tell me that I had an accent. To me, everyone else had an accent. Some people hung around us just to hear us talk. We took this as a compliment and enjoyed everyone’s company along with all of the different dialects. 

When we finished looking at the art work of others in their booths, we bid them all good night and went back to our hotel to shower and go downstairs for something to eat. After supper, we went back upstairs to rest for the next day. I was sure that the place was going to be packed.

We entered the Civic Center at 8:00 in the morning. I had one hour to make sure that all of my dolls were in a row and that my credit card machine and my register was set. I was ready, and I sat on my stool. I looked towards where the dolls were on the shelves, and there was an open space as though one of the dolls was missing. I went to the empty space and saw the same doll with the red flower had fallen from the shelf and was underneath the bottom shelf! I checked the dolls sewing to see if maybe she was sewn differently than the rest that she would not stay in her place. I saw nothing different with her. I placed her back in her space and went to my register. She fell to the floor again as I sat down on my stool. Walking to put her back again on the shelf, I told my husband that if she fell off of the shelf one more time that I would pick her up in the box and not sell her.

When the doors opened on that Saturday morning at 9:00 am for the Christmas show, there was a rush of people. I wasn’t ready for so many people to come to my booth space all at once, but I managed to talk and sell dolls with the help of my husband. This was my first big show out of state, and it was different. I had a good day with sales. The people were so nice and everyone wanted to hear the story of the dolls.

Laughter and music filled the building and it actually felt like Christmas. When the fast paced day ended, I checked the dolls that I sold and moved some to fill in some empty spaces before leaving. I noticed that the doll with the red flowers had not sold and she was still sitting on the shelf. She didn’t fall on the floor at all during the day. I hugged her and told her that she was so good. (Only a doll lover will understand this part). I gave her a kiss and placed her back on the shelf. We went back to the hotel.

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Sunday morning was cold. The chill in the wind had turned to almost freezing temperatures. The doors opened at 9:00 am, and on this morning, the people just trickled inside. There wasn’t the rush of people that there was the day before. I was new to the larger shows, so I asked my neighbor if this was usual for the Sunday group, and she told me yes. She told me that the church people would be coming in around noon. They would spend the day shopping and have their lunch at the Center in the café area. This day was more family oriented than the Saturday group, who came in mostly to shop and be there first to get the best items. But, she assured me that they always had a good weekend when they made this show.

She was right. About noon people came in dressed in their Sunday best clothes. They were a quieter group than the day before, but still, a very attentive group who wanted to hear about the dolls and their origin. 

A very attractive lady who looked to be about 25 or so, walked into my booth space. Her mother sat on a chair that I had outside of my space next to my stool. The young woman asked me how to pronounce the name of the dolls. I told her and proceeded to tell her about the origin of my cloth dolls. She was fascinated that each doll had a name. I explained to her that the names were in my doll book next to each number of the dolls. Each doll had a pink heart, and that she could either take the name that I had in my book, or I could write the name that she wanted inside of her heart. 

She smiled at me and said that she would walk around the shelves lined with dolls and see which one “spoke to her”. I smiled back at her and explained that I understood because I am a doll lover too.

Her mother and I sat and talked as she spent about 20 minutes or so looking at each doll that I had left. She would pick one up and look at her and then pick up another one. She studied each one with great care when she picked them up from the shelf. Then she gave each one a hug. No one the day before was as selective to pick a doll as she was. Most of them said, “Oh, look how cute the dolls are. I’ll take this one.”

Her mother was a very pleasant lady to talk to, and we exchanged stories about our families while her daughter was looking for the doll that would “speak to her”. Her mother told me that she ended up in Texas during the big oil boom, while I shared that I was born in Louisiana, raised there, and would stay there until I left planet Earth. We both laughed.

Her daughter came to me with a doll. She smiled and told me that she found the one who “spoke to her”. She said that she wanted that one as she handed me the doll. It was then that I noticed that this was the doll with the red flowers. I said to her, “Oh, you have the doll that kept falling on the floor. I picked her up so many times since we left Louisiana, that I finally told her that I would put her back in the box and not sell her if she fell off of the shelf one more time.” 

We both laughed, and the lady insisted that this was the doll that she wanted.

I raised up her dress and saw that next to my signature, she was doll number 48. I opened my book of names and looked for the number of the doll. Looking at the young lady, I told her that in my book, the name for number 48 was Katherine, spelled with a “K” instead of a “C”.

She looks at her mother with teary eyes. “Oh Mother!” she said as she clutched her heart.

I looked at both of them and told them that Katherine was the name that I picked for that numbered doll in my book. If she didn’t want the name she could pick any name that she wanted, and I would write that name in her heart. Both seemed speechless for a few seconds.

I didn’t understand what was going on with the teary eyes, so I asked what was wrong.

Her mother explained.

“She had a baby one year ago today. She had a little girl that she named Katherine with a “K”, and she lost her at birth.”

My eyes started to tear up. I told her that I was so sorry to hear this and that she didn’t have to take the doll or the name.

“Oh, I have to have her,” she told me calmly. “I wanted to get the doll who “spoke to me” and I picked Katherine.” 

She handed me the doll to write the name in her heart. I hugged the doll, and in my own way, I sort of understood why she kept falling on the floor. She needed to find this young lady just as much as the young lady needed to find number 48. After I signed Katherine’s name in her heart, I reached to get her a hand bag to place the doll in it.

“Is it ok if I just carry her like this? I’ll just hold her as I walk around and finish shopping.”

“Sure,” I answered her. I gave her and her mother a hug, and they left my booth space with Katherine whose name was spelled with a “K”.

My weekend at the Christmas Extravaganza Show was very special -- in more ways than one! 

© 2005 Mary Lynn Plaisance