Barbara Kay’s house was well above average, with two stairways, two bathrooms, a butler’s pantry (but no butler) between the kitchen and dining room, and an upstairs bathtub that I once found overflowing with stuffed animals. Two living rooms each contained a television (unheard of in the 50s), and in a corner of Nancy’s bedroom sat a pair of genuine bongo drums. Another point of interest was the first electric can opener I ever saw, and boy did I want one.

While Nancy (older Nancy, not younger Nancy) attended college, she painted a tropical scene (Nancy remembers it as a cottage, but who would know better, the one who painted it or me?) and gave it to Barbara Kay for her clubhouse. Barbie and I stood admiring it.

“If you were an art professor, what grade would you give Nancy’s painting?” asked Barbie.

I honestly replied, “A-plus.”

“Can you believe her teacher only gave her a B?”

We indignantly defended Nancy and berated her ignorant teacher.

tumbir.com

One spring, Michael and Phil caught a baby raccoon. It lived in a large wire cage outside Barbie’s clubhouse door and ate a healthy diet that included Cocoa Puffs. Its little hands grasped a puff and stuffed it in its mouth. That, along with his masked bandito face, made him too cute to resist.

“Please, Dad, will you catch me a raccoon?” I begged.

“There aren’t any in our woods,” he replied.

“Are you sure? Not even in the big woods at the end of the field?”

“Nope. Have you seen one?”

Hmmm, I hadn’t ever seen one. Why didn’t raccoons want to live in our woods? I didn’t know they are nocturnal. But I bet Dad did.

grinandbakeit.com

corriecanuck.wordpress.com

Archie looked too much like Howdy Doody for my liking, so I would have picked Reggie. I also liked Veronica’s hairstyle better than Betty’s ponytail.

“Mary Barbara, I invited you here so we could play together,” Barbie complained.

I felt guilty, but the lure of her comics was too strong. Barbie learned to hide them until my parents came to drive me home; then the copies she and her brothers already read became David’s and mine.

I happily partook of Barbie’s clothing, comic book, and ice cream overflow, but I never felt jealousy. I believe this is because Barbie never rubbed her wealth in or teased me, and I was content with my own family and home. But there was definite regret that I couldn’t squeeze into her fabulous Cinderella shoe collection.