This conversation with my Mother is a childhood memory that I have never forgotten.
She sternly said, No playing with the Bride Doll.
Is that forever? The little girl asked. WI can never play with the Bride doll. Why? Oh, She might get dirty before the wedding. No cookie making either. How much fun is that?
Something was wrong here.Maybe the child thought she had multiple sclerosis, like bad jump roping skills. Or multiple personalities and one of the personalities would break the no sex till marriage rule. Was she a nymphomaniac with control issues?
Research and review: information was nearly impossible to obtain. Her mother was rarely home to ask.
What should she do?
She asked the maid who replied, ” I don’t do windows, even swastikated ones.”
These thoughts ran through my mind, years later as I saw another blog bride doll, wearing sadly, a splattered soiled wedding gown. Leftover, unresolved…
An ex-nurse recognized the doll’s dysthymic state and took her home for an extended rehab. Maybe she had been stood up at the altar.
I wonder if my bride doll ever had her wedding? She was always looking so beautiful in her special dress, the one her fiance could never see until that eventful day.
Was it a life of emptiness, years of wondering and waiting, dressed like a dream, wearing her beautiful gown, an unobtainable prophecy.
I went to the basement and started looking through unpacked boxes, 1960, 1961,etc.until I saw the one marked Oak Park Blvd. She was barely covered and I spied her immediately. No grieving, or lamentation, I sent my depressed bride doll to the Nurse’s house. How sad I, a painter, could not provide for her as I should.
The Nurse emailed that me that she is doing, well, almost great, off of her anti-depressants, writing to a guy in prison and wearing a big bubble gum ring.
Happiness, reminiscent of Jenny and Shirley, two circus’ elephant’s who celebrated a 20 year reunion, filled my heart.
Joy remains in the world.
prints and original available