What’s up with the dolls? -- several of my male readers ask. I knew when I wrote about dolls that the topic wouldn’t interest everyone. But – it’s not entirely about dolls. It’s about coming to the point in your life where you have to grapple with leftover issues – perhaps with the things of childhood you haven’t put away.
Keeping things forever is not necessarily good, you know. “You can’t take it with you,” as they say. The quality of one’s thought is what counts in life. But Mike and I were both trained not to discard anything. “Throw it away today – want it tomorrow,” my mother would say. And she could cite incidents to prove her point. The good thing (or the bad thing?) is that Mike and I don't pick on one another about the things that we keep. I would never encourage him to part with his caburetors, and he leaves me alone about my dolls (pretty much).
Mother’s philosophy – and rightly so – was that the toys of the household were to be shared with all the children – and that happened. That generosity is more important than whether or not the toys survived. My dolls are a problem for me because they have been played with, look old, in some cases are deteriorating, and I don’t have the proper storage environment for them or a place to display them. Yet, I am not inclined to dispose of them, though perhaps I should. “They should be played with,” I said to my sister, Joni, 15 years ago. “They are vintage,” she rejoined; “no one should play with them.” So -- the dilemma.
Keeping things forever is not necessarily good, you know. “You can’t take it with you,” as they say. The quality of one’s thought is what counts in life. But Mike and I were both trained not to discard anything. “Throw it away today – want it tomorrow,” my mother would say. And she could cite incidents to prove her point. The good thing (or the bad thing?) is that Mike and I don't pick on one another about the things that we keep. I would never encourage him to part with his caburetors, and he leaves me alone about my dolls (pretty much).
Mother’s philosophy – and rightly so – was that the toys of the household were to be shared with all the children – and that happened. That generosity is more important than whether or not the toys survived. My dolls are a problem for me because they have been played with, look old, in some cases are deteriorating, and I don’t have the proper storage environment for them or a place to display them. Yet, I am not inclined to dispose of them, though perhaps I should. “They should be played with,” I said to my sister, Joni, 15 years ago. “They are vintage,” she rejoined; “no one should play with them.” So -- the dilemma.
[The picture above of an outdoor tea party was probably taken by Ina about 1910. Aunt Ethel pours on the left side of the picture. I think we still have that teapot. My dad, Vance, is on the right. I can't name the other children for sure.]
No comments:
Post a Comment