Very rare vintage 1930 20" composition doll sugar sack body molded blonde hair

Description

All dolls are unique. All objects are unique, for that matter. Nothing is exactly, precisely the same as anything else.
This has something to do with Schrödinger's cat.
(Well, it doesn't.)
(But it does.)
But some configurations of the building blocks of the universe come to be assembled into objects that we see as rare while others take on commonplace forms. Barbies, for example, are made by the hundreds of thousands and so are (in most of the ways that are important to humans) interchangeable. It is also true that once a child welcomes a Barbie into the family, that Barbie becomes unique. Transformed by love, albeit transformed in a way that is likely to be visible only to the child.
Love is alchemy. Alchemy is the process of changing the common and ordinary into the rare and precious.
Some things strike us -- adults as well as children -- as unique from the beginning, even if they are not loved. They have the form of something that we have never seen before.
This doll is (in my life, at least) unique. While flour sacks and feed sacks (especially during the 1930s and 1940s) were often used to make children's clothes, aprons, and dolls and doll clothes, sugar sacks were rarely used for anything beyond transporting sugar from the store to the kitchen. Sugar sacks were most often just plain, unbleached cotton, unlike the colorful prints of flour sacks. They were also most often designed to hold just five pounds, and so were too small to be much use in repurposing for anything else. (Not that the word "repurposed" was used during the Great Depression.)
But this doll is made of sugar sacking, or at least her body is. Her arms and limbs are made of composition, which is a sort of papier-mâché that is made of sawdust. It is heavy and brittle (as you can see from the wear on the doll) and was abandoned for plastic as soon as the latter became available. This composition doll bears the wear of 90 years.
Ninety years of being unique.
Which brings us to back to Schrödinger's cat. Everything in the world -- whether we see an object as unique or not, whether we love it or disdain it or ignore it or hate it -- is both here and not here. There and not there. Potential and realized. Everything could have been or was or will be or won't be or will be again. Sometimes it is a sugar-sack doll. But it is also a cat.
Dolls and cats do not (in my experience, at least) care about these ideas.
Except that they do.
Because everything is both here and there and not here and not there, both a cat and a doll, and if we want a doll, we just have to click our heels together. And -- for here and now -- we and the doll are both real, both here, transfigured into what we already are.