At Franklin
Elementary School, the fourth grade
girls used to
jump rope, climb monkey bars, ride
bicycles and
play with Barbie dolls. This was before
Barbie ever went
to California or bought a convertible.
I’m not sure
what Barbie did. She did not have a briefcase
or paint
brushes, or books, only clothes. The cool girls
would play
house with Barbie. That seemed boring
to me. Besides,
house rimed with Klaus—that made me
resist Barbie
all the more. Plus Barbie’s name reminded
me of the word barbarian, which Klaus was
in the worst
kind of way. Klaus Barbie was called
the Butcher of
Lyon where he tortured mommies
and daddies and
little children. During World War II
he worked for
the SS and the Gestapo.
I’m sure the
doll named Barbie
would never do
that. But just the same
the thought of
touching her made me
cringe. I did
not want to put fancy clothes
on her or her
friend Ken so they would be cool.
I had an Uncle
named Ken who was kind.
Ken the doll
was cool, not kind. Kind Ken
collected Teddy
bears. Teddy bears were named
for Teddy
Roosevelt in 1902. Sixty-six years later
when I was in
fourth grade, I was bedridden
with rheumatic
fever. My parents told me
to be to be
strong like Teddy Roosevelt whose moustache
reminded me of
Captain Kangaroo who read stories
aloud from
actual books. I read, too. I read how Roosevelt
was sick as a
child but fought to make himself strong.
He rode horses,
lifted weights, boxed, wrestled and hunted.
I wanted to
ride horses, too. And I wrestled my dad.
And rode my
bike. And climbed trees
to make myself
strong. I didn’t want to hunt
and kill
animals, though. And I didn’t want
to play with
Barbie and Ken. Moving their
lifeless
plastic bodies reminded me of corpses
even though
Barbie’s first name was not Klaus
and Ken was
cool not cruel, which the cool girls
said was
better. I did not care for cool Ken
nor Barbie who
was not named Klaus nor their car
which would not
be named Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Chitty Chitty
Bang Bang was a Grand Prix sports car
left to rust in
a junkyard. When two little kids, their goofy dad
and his kind lady
friend loved her, she came to life
to rescue them
from pirates, spies and mean Vulgarians.
Chitty could
float like a boat or fly in the sky.
I loved Chitty
Chitty Bang Bang.
I wanted to fly
away, too.
The End
