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I was attached to a doll I named Goggi. He belonged to my older brother before me. He was an ugly little boy doll wearing overalls, about eight inches tall, with the top of his head painted a light orange, which was supposed to be his hair.

One night in bed I decided to push Goggi down the side of my bed, next to the wall, so he could see what was going on down there. Head first, of course. When I pulled him up by his bare feet, he came up without his head.

I had decapitated Goggi.

After 15 seconds of paralyzing shock I began to scream.

My Mother did all she could to save him. She tried sewing by hand, she gave him to my Grandmother for repair, she even tossed his little body and separated head in her pocketbook and brought him to shoemakers for reattachment.

All for naught.

Goggi was a goner.