His mother’s name was Mary. Ideal? What more fitting label for them both?
When I discovered Him on Ebay, time telescoped to my eighth Christmas, when I was seven, to my much beloved Princess Mary. I found her Ebay twin, bringing this Mary and her baby (two of them, actually) home to people my grandchildren’s Nativity, to welcome a new millennium.
Revlon ballerina angels. Another maker’s Bob (or was it Bill?) now-known-as-Joseph. A shabby chic lop-rockered green wicker cradle, gardener’s moss for mattress. Simple homemade cloaks, cords to anchor them to brows and waist, feet bare...
Revlon ballerina angels. Another maker’s Bob (or was it Bill?) now-known-as-Joseph. A shabby chic lop-rockered green wicker cradle, gardener’s moss for mattress. Simple homemade cloaks, cords to anchor them to brows and waist, feet bare...
I was curious about this Ideal baby. How had I missed meeting Him all those years of being a child, of having children of my own? I bought a book, an Ebay find, an Ideal history. I read.
In 1956, Ideal created millions of dolls in the image of our infant Savior—some Protestant, some Catholic. (Wasn’t He born a Jew?) Churches approved, I’m told.
The public wasn’t buying. Thousands of overstocked babies. Ideal in crisis, financial ruin on the horizon. One salesman’s solution? Sell the babies, all bids accepted, no questions asked.
Did you know that, in the depths of the gray Atlantic off the coast of Hatteras, there’s a breakwater made, at least in part, of those babies no one wanted? Sacrilege? I thought so.
I had not thought of burial at sea. I had not thought of the Graveyard of the Atlantic. I had not thought beyond the seemingly callous, convenient disposal of something sacred.
Burial at sea is for all time. Although the dolls were not scattered (much as Catholic tradition does not sanction the scattering of human remains), all the Atlantic is now their grave.
What blessing, what honor for men and women whose remains have also been committed to the deep!
[This story is for Kira Rose who, like her Grandmommy, loves dolls. In this photo (Christmas 2006) she is sharing the Christmas story with her cousin, Michael. In some small way, around or under or through his obvious enchantment with his handmedownbutreal cell phone, I know that Michael is richer because of Kira’s storytelling.]
In 1956, Ideal created millions of dolls in the image of our infant Savior—some Protestant, some Catholic. (Wasn’t He born a Jew?) Churches approved, I’m told.
The public wasn’t buying. Thousands of overstocked babies. Ideal in crisis, financial ruin on the horizon. One salesman’s solution? Sell the babies, all bids accepted, no questions asked.
Did you know that, in the depths of the gray Atlantic off the coast of Hatteras, there’s a breakwater made, at least in part, of those babies no one wanted? Sacrilege? I thought so.
I had not thought of burial at sea. I had not thought of the Graveyard of the Atlantic. I had not thought beyond the seemingly callous, convenient disposal of something sacred.
Burial at sea is for all time. Although the dolls were not scattered (much as Catholic tradition does not sanction the scattering of human remains), all the Atlantic is now their grave.
What blessing, what honor for men and women whose remains have also been committed to the deep!
[This story is for Kira Rose who, like her Grandmommy, loves dolls. In this photo (Christmas 2006) she is sharing the Christmas story with her cousin, Michael. In some small way, around or under or through his obvious enchantment with his handmedownbutreal cell phone, I know that Michael is richer because of Kira’s storytelling.]
Reference:
Izen, Judith (1999). Collector's Guide to Ideal Dolls: Identification & Values (Second Edition). Paducah, KY: Collector Books.
