I remember turning 10, and never having owned a shop-bought doll. My brother and I used to come up with ingenious ways to turn even the most mundane objects into toys. Round pebbles would be used as marbles, sticks, leaves and grass turned into dolls. We turned an old tomato crate (those wooden ones from back then) into a push-car, and we had two old tyres that we used to race each other. Yet, I had a dream (doesn’t every 10-year old little girl?) I wanted, COVETED, a Barbie doll. All my friends at school had Barbie dolls. Gorgeous dolls with beautiful slinky blonde hair and smooth skin, and the clothes! Fit for a princess!

 

 

But I digress. My grandfather was a very solemn man, yet he had a very whimsical sense of humour. Often when he cracked a joke, it took a while to dawn on anybody that he was being funny. On the other side, though, sometimes he was being serious, and we thought he was joking. Also, he spoke with a thick Irish accent, so deciphering what he said was a bit like code-breaking.

I was always his favourite. He worked for the Railways when I was a little girl. Some of the favourite times in my life was spent just travelling with him on the train – somehow there was always free return tickets for short trips. He used to pack us little picnic meals, with boiled eggs, and meat balls, delicious wafer-thin sandwiches with peanut butter, and ripe bananas for dessert. When we opened the wax paper, the smell of ripe banana would waft up and delight my senses. Even today, the smell of bananas immediately brings back those train journeys with my grandfather. Sadly, he got injured on duty when a blast of steam hit him in the leg, causing a raw, open wound from which he never recovered. He had to leave the Railways, and eventually found employment with our local abattoir.

On my tenth birthday, my grandfather waited outside the school gates for me when it was time to walk home. I remember that it was a Friday, and I was looking forward to the weekend. He was beaming, and had a parcel in his hands. I just knew it was my birthday present, and practically broke the land speed record getting to him. I just knew what it was – it had to be! My grandfather knew all my hopes and dreams, and although we were really poor, always did his best by me.

My grandfather said something to me about me now being grown up enough for this gift, and that I had to treasure it all my life. I didn’t listen. Finally – my Barbie Doll! I hugged him and thanked him for the doll, almost crying with relief. Tired of always being the odd one out at breaktimes, and sitting on my own watching the other girls play, I could now also join in with my very own doll. He stopped me mid-sentence, and said: “Barbie? No, honey, I got you a BIBLE.”

My heart fell into my shoes, and I wanted to cry with anger and disappointed. Who wanted a stupid Bible? As I grew up and looked back, I understood with my desire overriding all else how I easily heard Barbie when he said Bible, but as a child this was one of my worst disappointments. But I instinctively knew not to let on to him how disappointed I was. He loved me with all of his heart, and Bibles cost money. Who knows how long he had saved to afford one for me – my very own? As an adult, now, that Bible is one of my most treasured possessions. It is a King James version, and my grandfather’s first name was James.

 

 

I learned a couple of valuable lessons that day. Not least of all that I could learn to be less selfish. It wasn’t all about me, and my wanting a doll. It was about gratitude for one of the very first birthday presents I received in my life, ever. My grandfather played a pivotal role in my childhood years. I had a difficult mother (his daughter) and he often protected me from her. I think I would have turned out very differently as an adult if I didn’t have him anchoring me, and teaching me, especially during my formative years. And it takes a special kind of love to buy a child a Bible on her tenth birthday.