At the base of the "Sister Knobs," a portion of a long, meandering mountain
range called
"Ozark
Mountains," in whose foothills I lived and played, in those days, lies
"Romance."
There,
a clear murmuring brook chuckled prettily over the rocks and rills.
Rocks that were
"sharp
as a tack" on the wading barefoot, in the month of May and "dull as a froe,"
on the
barefoot
callouses by the end of October.
Where the morning sun came peeping over the distant "Caney Mountains,"
and at the
day's
end, sank slowly over "Bald Jess." Just across the distant hollow,
the whippoorwill
thrust
forth his rhythmic rhapsody. In the waning moonlight, bullfrogs played
under the
growing
wild mint, and early in the Springtime, the butterflies and I scrambled
up the
mountainside,
where wildflowers bloomed in the woodlands. Here was spent a childhood
full of
fond memories. Memories that have inspired me through the past thirty-five
years,
in my
making of various dolls, singing the Ozark Mountain Folk Ballads and playing
Mountain
Music on all our folk instruments.
I was born and reared at Romance in this beautiful old house my grandfather
built. In my
childhood
recollection, this house was a special place, with a towering rock fireplace,
a large
portico,
clapboard siding and a weathered shingle roof. Through the center
of this house
wound
a staircase to the other floors.
The question most asked me in the past thirty-five years is, "Where did
you get all the
ideas
for your dolls?" My answer is always, "I lived it." All the
traditional poses of my
dolls
have originated from my childhood memory of various chores and stories
I shared
with my
family and the Ozark Mountain people, their culture and dialect.
A dialect which,
perhaps,
will no longer be extant by the end of the next few generations.
For this reason,
I have
written the true accounts and invite you to come with me to "ROMANCE,"
as seen
through
the eyes of a child.
Wilma
Naugle Fish
