My Parents subscribed to the Chicago Tribune, so we did not get a Funny-Face Drink circular in our edition that Sunday. My Best Friend's family, however, got the Sun-Times. When her Parents saw the art contest circular, they picked up a couple of extra copies of the paper so that my Best Friend, her sister, and I all could submit our entries.
We all sat at my Best Friend's kitchen table, and we completed our entries. My Best Friend's Parents mailed the entries. Then we forgot about the contest for a few months.
I don't know whether Funny Face executives judged the entries. Perhaps the contest was only a drawing for which the company randomly selected winners from the submitted entries. I couldn't tell you if artistic talent was a factor in the contest or not.
My Best Friend was—and is—a talented artist. We believed the contest was based on artistic ability, and we were sure my Best Friend would be declared a winner.
One Tuesday afternoon, after school, a delivery man brought a big box to our house. The box was addressed to me. I was a winner of the Funny Face Drink sweepstakes. I received a wonderful prize: a modern Barbie and a Barbie Dream House.
I felt badly for my Best Friend because she was both the artist and the person who made it possible for me to submit an entry. We thought the contest had tested young talent. I was less artistic and, therefore, I did not merit the prize.
But I was very happy with my new toys. It's the only thing I've ever "won."
Suburban Chicago, 1967. Here's the Barbie (the kind with the twist waist) that caused the heartache.
UPDATE: Ah! Here's the entry form.
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