Saturday, December 15, 2012
I was nine years old when the Troll phenomenon hit. For some reason, they were also called Dam Dolls. Not the bad, ooh-I’m-almost-swearing kind of damn. Just D-A-M. I wanted a Troll doll in the worst way. It was a couple months before Christmas, and I couldn’t wait. I thought I would burst into flames if I didn’t get a Troll, pronto. So, I decided to make a girl and a boy Troll. I cut four small gingerbread men shapes out of muslin scraps and basted them together. I don’t remember knowing how to sew, but maybe that’s just how much I wanted a Troll. I sewed two eyes and a dotted line smile on the faces. Then I stuffed and finished them off with dark pink yarn hair for the girl and light pink yarn hair for the boy. My faux boy Troll was a bit malformed, with one arm kind of a shriveled stump. Still, it was better than nothing. I tried to pretend like I was satisfied with my homemade Trolls, but I was less-than-fulfilled. Perhaps my attempt at sewing was for the benefit of my parents - a dramatic cry for help. I’m quite certain Santa Claus got a very specific earful about what I wished for. Christmas Day finally rolled around. I could barely breathe, and the anticipation made my heart pound. While opening presents, I spied a little box... I knew it... I knew it... Wait a minute... What the hell??? Technically, I got a Troll doll. I guess it was a Troll doll...one with a beard. It was a Santa Troll. It had sticky-up white hair, but that is where the Troll resemblance ended. This one had a Santa face, with a beard painted on. It also had a red suit and black boots painted on its body. I probably tried to look excited, but I wanted a Dam doll and instead got a damn Santa doll. I eventually got several mainstream Troll dolls for my birthday, as well as a very large Troll bank, who became their mother. So, way ahead of the Brady Bunch, I had a truly blended (Troll) family - Giant mother, weird bearded kid, a black-haired one, a pink-haired one whose hair kept coming unglued, a yellow haired one, and the pitiful homemade handicapped ones. It was a belated Christmas miracle. God bless every Dam one of us!