When I understood, at age 6, we were moving from the ranch to the city so dad could train as a minister I buried my doll and she wasn't found. I looked for another and over time, about 30 years ago I found one similar, had a new wig added to that doll, made her a dress and put her away. I look at her occasionally but she never was the original.
I also remember my left pointer finger getting sliced as dad tried to get my finger out of the knothole on our new teeter totter with his just sharpened jack knife.
The family was rushing to leave for the big community picnic and dad was rushed, sliced my finger about 1 1/2 inches and it bled like crazy - and the worst, at the time, was that another kid had fallen off the barn and had a huge bandage on his head and my bandaged hand was a poor second.
I remember those feelings and my finger often aches and has a tight tendon.
Dad still uses his jack knife to cut his nails, open mail and any other use that it meets.