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When I was  a little girl, preschool age at best, I had a Raggedy Ann doll. I carried her everywhere. At some point, her face had been destroyed (my mom thinks chewed off by a dog) and my aunt had created a new one out of sheeting and embroidered Ann a new face. I carried her everywhere.

After a visit to the park with some teen babysitters and a rushed departure, I realized I had lost my beloved doll. The babysitters refused to turn back —

[Continue reading A Raggedy Reminiscence]