Breaking up mother's collection of 700 dolls.

After she said, before dying, "I hope they all stay together."

After a dealer offered $35,000. Then...

Thanks to the recession, dealers and auction houses were no longer scooping up collections the way they had before. Not only that, but people tend to buy the toys of their youth in their 30s, 40s and 50s, and Mama Jo’s dolls, I was told, were “aging out.” Our local doll museum, like others across the country, was on the verge of collapse.

One doll lover came for a look. “Honey, you should have taken that money,” he said. “You were standing on the edge of the ledge of the canyon.” He made a karate-chopping motion in the air with his hand.

I prayed. I saw a therapist. I consulted an astrologer. Finally, after a shamanic healing, I became unstuck. Maybe I was just ready to let go of my grief.

When I read "astrologer" and "unstuck," any sympathy over this plight melted away. (Somehow "unstuck" is a word that annoys me more than "shamanic.") Also, I watched the video:



Somehow, I just don't believe that this was a serious emotional struggle and I don't get the enchantment of the dolls. The mother's engagement with the dolls — seen a bit in the video — is lighter and sweeter than you might expect, given the author's presentation of the collection — and keeping it together (metaphor alert!) — as a profound burden. The author is Jo Maeder and she got a book out of the (faux?) ordeal.

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Happy Mother's Day! Call your mom, if you're lucky enough to have a mom that's callable. If not, I hope the memories that flow into the foreground are not burdensome and require no therapy or astrology or shamanic healing to allow you to go forward and flourish.