Biographical Non-Fiction posted May 26, 2024


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From four years old to present day

My Patty Playpals

by Debi Pick Marquette

Story of the Month Contest Winner 

I was only four years old, yet I remember it like it was yesterday. I wanted a Patty Playpal in the worst way. However, my parents told me that Santa and his elves had a bad year and that it might not happen. Looking back, I know things were tough at home since my dad was laid off and my mom's teaching job didn't pay much. 
 
Our family had seven kids then, so most of our gifts were homemade. My mom would stay up late at night and make crafts or sew for us. She even colored paper bags to wrap the gifts so that we would have the luxury of opening presents.
 
I accepted that no doll was under our tree on Christmas Eve. But
, after a few minutes, my dad said he had heard a noise in the closet and that we should see what it was. When I opened the closet door, there was a big box in there. My dad said that Santa must have left it there for me. I opened it, and it was my Patty Playpal doll.  I don't remember anything ever making me that happy again in my childhood. I took such good care of her and cherished her for years. 
 
That year when I received my doll, the other kids went without a gift from Santa. However, there were times throughout the year when there was enough money, the others would get something that they had been wanting. They would get them for their birthday, or another holiday. My mom would make a big deal out of it and no matter what the occasion, we always had fun, and at some point, everyone received a nice gift. 

I was in 7th grade the day I came home from school to find that a fire had burned our house to the ground. It was a tough day for all of us. Thank God there was nobody home that day. My mom had taken the family photo album to school with her one day when she was teaching about ancestry. What a blessing it turned out to be that although she meant to bring it home, she kept forgetting it. 
 
Two things were most precious to me, and they were both gone forever. First, all the poetry I had been writing since 3rd grade and had saved in a folder.  The other was my Patty Playpal. 
She was like my best friend, and now I would never see either of these treasures again.
 
After I got married, I taught with a woman named Patty, and in a short time, we became great friends. It wasn't long before we would spend time together out of school and would enjoy many days at one of our homes, as our children and husbands became friends too.

 
I remember when I was waiting on my second major spine surgery, I had a large cyst growing on my spine. I could not even get out of bed alone. Patty would come over every morning to help me out of bed and into the wheelchair. Then, she would get me dressed and do what she could to help me after she fed me breakfast. It had slowly gotten so bad that she stayed with me all day and every day. 
 
My spine surgeon tried to get an earlier date for my surgery, but there was a nurses strike going on at that time, which made it impossible.
 
We were so thankful that Patty and I had both retired before this time and she was able to help me the way she did. 

So, Patty continued to go out of her way to show what kind of a friend she was. Through it all, I never heard her complain once. 
 
We still do what we can for each other whenever there is a need. Somehow, it always seems to even out. Yet, nobody is keeping score. 
 
We have now been best friends for over forty years. We've enjoyed our time together, especially all the hours of playing cards, along with our husbands.
 
We've spent so much time together that our children are like siblings. Forty-plus years later, they still are, and we are still best friends.
 
Now, every once in a while, when reminiscing and counting our blessings, my husband will remind me how God replaced my doll with a real live Patty Playpal, but this one came with wings. 



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2024
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