David Cohen illustration
I saw the Hansel and Gretel dolls in the Sears Christmas 1963 catalog. The page showed the dolls standing side by side, and explained they were imported from Germany and designed by master craftsmen. It described their colorful clothes, their rooted hair and individual hair brushes, and eyes that opened and closed. They could even call for “Mama.” They were the cutest dolls I’d ever seen.
They brought to life one of my favorite bedtime stories that I asked my father to tell me when I slipped into his and my mother’s bed for a few minutes before I went to my own bed. “Hansel and Gretel” was a scary fairy tale, with the children lost in the woods and the witch plotting to eat Hansel. But the story had a happy ending when Hansel and Gretel were reunited with their father. While my father told me this story, I was glad I was safe at home.
I showed him the catalog, and on Christmas morning I found the dolls wrapped under the tree, one from dad and the other from Uncle Junior, who always gave his nieces and nephews a Christmas present.
The dolls were handsomely dressed in traditional German costumes. Hansel wore black lederhosen—shorts with suspenders and bib—a white shirt, and a gray jacket embellished with red heart appliqués. He wore white socks and black tasseled shoes with red laces. On his curly blond head sat a green straw Alpine hat with a feather.
Gretel wore a dirndl—a peasant dress with black velvet bodice, red cotton print skirt, and white ruffled apron. Underneath her skirt was a lacy white petticoat and underpants. Her curly blonde hair was topped by a red felt hat, tied under her chin with red silk ribbons. She wore white socks and white Mary Jane shoes and carried a basket of wildflowers in her hand.
Both dolls had pale-blue eyes, long eyelashes, and dimples in their cheeks. Their red lips were parted slightly in a smile, revealing tiny white front teeth. And sure enough, they would cry “Mama” if you tilted them forward.
The first day back to school after Christmas vacation was fun because our teacher allowed us to bring a Christmas present to show off, and gave us time to play with it. That morning I carried Hansel and Gretel with me on the school bus ride to second grade at Pleasant Gardens Elementary School in Marion, North Carolina. It was an exciting day. My classmates and I played with our new toys.
On the bus ride home that evening, however, I noticed that Hansel was missing both of his socks and one shoe. I didn’t remember these being gone while I was at school. I dreaded telling my parents.
When I got home, I took the dolls into the house and showed Hansel to them. “I think I lost his shoe and socks on the school bus.”
To my relief, they didn’t fuss. Maybe they realized how easily his socks and shoes could slip off his smooth little feet.
Through the years, I played with Hansel and Gretel, washing their hair and giving them baths, trying not to damage their clothes or to lose any more of their accessories. However, despite my efforts I misplaced their hair brushes and Gretel’s wildflowers. In time their clothes became faded and worn.
My mother once suggested, “You might be able to go to a toy store and buy some more shoes and socks for Hansel.”
“No,” I said. “I’d just as soon leave him the way he is.” So his right foot remained bare.
Today I keep Hansel and Gretel on a shelf in a curio cabinet, where I can see them and know they’re safe.
When I look at them, I remember the years of fun I had playing with them and admiring their pretty faces and festive clothes. Mostly, though, they remind me of long-ago bedtime stories and the kindness of a father and uncle who made me happy on a Christmas morning.