I met my friend Yael at UCLA in the spring of 1971. We became bffs in grad school and have remained close friends throughout all the decades since. She was visiting from her home in Arcata California and we were able to spend some hours together today. Wonderful to have a long shared history with her. We pick up our conversations as though no time has passed. A beautiful friendship is priceless.
A short story by Yael:
It was not even 1950. What did they know about making dolls? We were in Milano Italy. Ostensively we were there because both my sister and I had health issues that needed to be addressed by European doctors. In reality my mother had to get away from her marriage to my father.
We entered a large toy store, a paradise for kids. Mom was going to get me a present for my 5th birthday. I zeroed in on a doll, a big doll, almost my size. She had brown hair and wore a woolen skirt and a white top. She also wore red shoes. In her back was a key. When you wined the key she walked. This was the present I chose. I loved it. I insisted on holding it. But as we were on our way out of the store I dropped the doll and in a second she turned into a pile of broken pieces.My heart was broken I stood there stunned and started crying. Mom pulled me away and we left the store empty handed not looking back. Nothing was
ever the same. We never again had a real home. Our lives were shattered like the dolls’ body. I never got another doll or another present from mom who shortly after, put us on a plain to Israel, just my sister and me to be under the care of our dad. In the years that followed we were tossed around between boarding schools, foster care. We had one good year with dad again before he left Israel.That year, Judy my sister and I had our own bedroom, with clean sheets, food on the table and a good school.
Past forward thirty two years later. In 1984 Joe and I flew to Russia to participate in Citizens diplomacy as part of International Physicians for the prevention of Nuclear war. That organization won the Nobel peace prize for its campaign against the nuclear arms race.
Julia at that time was 2 years old and Jonathan was seven. It was hard for me to leave my kids with Joey’s mom and a helper but I had to go.
The trip lasted an adventurous 3 weeks. We covered Germany, Russia and Finland. London was our point of departure back home. We stopped at Harrods, the famous department store looking for presents for the kids. I found the most beautiful doll with blue eyes that closed when she lay down. She looked right at you when she was sitting upright and best of all she was unbreakable made from both stuffed fabric and some kind of rubber.
We bought her for Julia. When we arrived home I was cradling the dole in my arms. From the shock and angry expression on Julie's face we assumed she thought we had brought a baby girl to replace her. Julie never fell in love with that beautiful dolle the way I was captivated with that windup toy in Milano when I was 5.
I guess not every girl is excited about dolls. Julia was not. Not at 2 years old or at later age.
The poor doll that flew across the Atlantic and all the way to LA, spent years in the closet! Julia did not play with dolls, never spent time in her room with her toys but she was good at soccer and basketball.
When Julia had a little girl I fished the beautiful blue eyed dole out from the closet in our LA condo and brought it over to her with the little crib that we got in a garage sale years before. The dole didn’t last long at Julia’s house. One day we found the dole and the crib back at the condo and she had been tucked in a dark closet ever since.
Now finally the dole is mine. I brought her back to Humboldt with me. She is in my room and sometimes in the living room. There is something sweet and pleasant and easy about her. I know she will never break and she will forever have that smile on her face.
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