The other night at band rehearsal, the lyrics of a song reminded me and my band mates (my sister and a childhood friend) of the paper dolls we used to make as children. Some prowling around in a box of memorabilia in my basement unearthed a battered tin Sucrets box. Remember Sucrets– those powerful little beige lozenges that would make our eyes water and our tongues numb? Inside the box was the paper doll baby, about the size of a quarter, that I made about 40 years ago, complete with a tiny baby wardrobe. Some little moment of my childhood self is captured in those teeny scraps of paper, which is why, after all these years, I’ve never been able to bring myself to toss them.