pointysticks.net

To see pictures of the dolls, please go to The doll pictures page.

This is one of those things that just sucks to write about. I’m not a terribly secretive person, at least in so much as I find that keeping things from others tends to make life far more complicated than it really needs to be. I also run the risk of telling too little or too much of the whole story and sounding either crazy or pathetic and alienating the (living) major players all at once.

While the dolls themselves are at the center of the story, they are dolls. At one time they were loved and held and played with and made a child happy. Still, they are at heart objects; the real story is one of a family where lies, theft and secrets became standard issue.

Every family has their problems, I’m pretty sure of it. Emotions are high right now because of events that started in 1987. I was in the 7th grade, and I believe it was some time in early April (pretty sure, but then again it was a long time ago) and one day instead of going to school on a school day I was woken up by my mom. I was taken to the dentist, had braces put on my teeth and then informed that we were leaving my dad and to pack what I could when I reached the house. I was also informed that I could not take my goat.

Sometime around then (immediately before maybe?) my mom (Judy) had taken some dolls that were given to my paternal grandmother (Edna) and brought them to my maternal grandmother (Betty.) The reason given for this action was supposedly to have the dolls restored.

I can tell already that this is probably going to sound way more contorted than what could reasonably be believed to be true, but I am going off of old memories and doing the best that I can to report things accurately. Sorry for the frustratingly slow pace but I think in unclear situations it’s best to give as many details as possible.

Grandma Edna was judiciously upset, but took the high road and (if I’m reading the notes right) dealt with the situation as clinically as she could. She contacted the person (Mary) who gave her the dolls on behalf of her late mother and who affirmed that they were her rightful property, and included a note of her own.

April 28, 1877

To Whom it May Concern:

When my mother, Cora [name redacted by me] died, I did give, without reserve, to Mrs. Edna [redacted], her very good friend and nurse companion, four dolls.

These dolls were mine to give, and I wanted my friend Mrs. [redacted] to have them in rememberance of my mother.

Mary [redacted]

[address redacted]

Okay, I feel stupid typing “redacted” everywhere, but I don’t wish to involve or implicate people living or dead any further– this narrative isn’t about revenge or spite, it’s about getting rid of some awfully big secrets and sorting out the facts (if for no one else, than for me.) I don’t know if it’ll make me feel any less stupid but instead of writing redacted I’m going to use some asterisks (*) to mark where I’ve concealed names and details.

The included note from my Grandma Edna:

Molalla Ore
July 7, 1987

Betty [******] and Judy [******].

Enclosed find a copy of a letter showing “proof of ownership” of “four old collector dolls” that were removed from my residence & transported to Stayton Ore, without my knowledge or permission, by Judy [******].

I am requesting my dolls be returned by July 31, 1987

If my request is not granted I shall be forced to take legal action to re-claim my property.

Sincerely,

Edna [****]

[address *]

Now, my sister and I have always heard from Grandma Edna that it was her plan to give us each the dolls as she saw fit when we were old enough to either enjoy as a collectors item or to sell (when the time came) to assist with college expenses. My sister is two years older than I am and could probably add more detail, but I recall being shown the dolls a time or two briefly, before all of this started, but not having any attachment to them except as a curiosity because they were very old and obviously special.

I never heard the part about my mom stealing them from Grandma Edna’s property. I had thought all this time that I hadn’t been sheltered from a single detail of the gruesome affair, I am thankful that I didn’t know that little fact this whole time.

My mom claims to this day she took the dolls with Grandma Edna’s blessing, but my Grandma Edna had a wide and clearly defined honest streak and she *never* lied to me.

Ever. Even though sometimes I wished she would have softened the truth a little, maybe to spare my feelings once in a while, she didn’t. I may not have always liked what she said (often I didn’t) but I knew that I could count on it being true.

She never saw the dolls again.

Grandma Betty had claimed (which is proved by receipts from Nurse Nancy’s Doll Hospital dated April 14th, 1987) to have had the dolls restored and dressed. My sister and I were told this and excited to see the dolls in their fully restored and gussied condition. We asked where the dolls were and if we could see them.

Grandma Betty blinked and her hand fluttered to her throat, “Don’t you know? Your mom sold those.”

We were asked (I forget by whom, Grandma Betty or Mom) “How do you think your mom left your dad?” Then told that they were sold for the total sum of $500, and mom had used that up as her get-away money. (Note: My dad is not a monster, so leaving the way my mom did was really more or less to make a statement. And it was a shitty, traumatic, stupid statement.)

My sister had gone back to live with my dad before then, and I was stuck with my mom. And I believe that particular moment broke our trust. Up until that point I’d known my mom could pull some pretty irrational stunts, that she could say some extremely exaggerated things (I was in the court room when she told a judge some pretty bad out and out lies about Dad so she could have a restraining order, I really shouldn’t have been there for that.) I also didn’t think well of the fact that only a little bit after leaving my dad she was in a relationship with someone almost immediately.

I know people make stupid choices, however upon reflection, I think that day was the day my mom stopped caring about being a good parent, or any kind of parent at all.

My Grandma Edna, called bullsh*t on their story. She was earthy when it came to language, but things weren’t adding up and she was not going to let the subject drop. Since I was the child that came over every other weekend and also visited Grandma Betty with my mother more regularly than my sister did, I think it just made sense to her to quiz me about Grandma Betty’s doll collection:

Had I seen new dolls in her collection? Had I heard anything about the dolls? Had I noticed anything?

Then I would get a play by play recap of the story (minus the part about my mom taking the dolls without her blessing) and updates on her opinions of Grandma Betty and my mom, and while I would try my best to answer her, I did really believe that the dolls were gone and couldn’t see any constructive reason for those conversations.

It wasn’t too fun visiting Grandma Betty anymore either. She liked to reiterate her story and call Grandma Edna names and say how poorly the dolls were in the first place and that they weren’t worth anything any way.

Not knowing any better I tried to defend the people I loved in both of these situations. I would break down and ask my mom about the dolls from time to  time (to appease Grandma Edna’s curiosity for tiny details) and my mom would act as if I’d just stabbed her with a fork, quickly changing the subject to “How you can’t change the past” and what a selfish greedy person I was for even asking about the dolls.

I didn’t enjoy my new role of ping-pong ball but I didn’t know how to extract myself from it.

This battle went on for years, right up until both of my Grandmothers passing away. My Grandma Betty would refuse to be anywhere my Grandma Edna might be, and my Grandma Edna wanted to be nowhere around my mom, and my mom didn’t give a rats tiny bottom about pretty much anything I did, having given up on parenting me. My mom, sister and dad showed for my 8th grade graduation,  but that was the end of family support for anything I did.

I take that back, my sister did show once for a school play. That was it, and it was awesome of her to show up.

So, it’s a dead subject. The dolls are long gone and pretty much everyone that wouldn’t let the subject drop has joined the choir invisible. Right?

No.

No. No. No. My mom had one of dolls out in her craft room. Vague memories of a painful subject, pain which was slowly but surely being smoothed over by the passage of time came flooding back in full force. I quietly asked my mom about the doll and she admitted to having it and the others, I asked why she had failed to tell my sister and I the truth immediately after Grandma Betty’s passing and she said, “Well I left the doll out where you could see it and bring the subject up when you wanted.”

I found the response spurious and infuriating, but because it was a family event that brought me to her house I told her that this whole thing was stupid, it has always been stupid and hurtful and everything with the dolls just had to stop and that I was not going to talk about it that day. I also suspect that her response was absolutely untrue.

Since then Mom has claimed that she lied at the behest of Grandma Betty because Grandma Betty was scared of Grandma Edna suing her.

Of course, why didn’t I think of that?

Wait. Couldn’t Grandma Betty just have come clean and returned the dolls to avoid being sued over them? More importantly is a mother’s relationship to her daughter so disposable?

I guess it was.