Poor Pitiful Pearl and Peppermint Bark

The Mondawmin Mall in Baltimore may have been the first enclosed mall; I think I read that somewhere. Anyway, it was the place we went to when I was a little girl. It had two floors of shops and everything anyone, at that time, could want.

My favorite shop was Roger's Toy Store. It was on the first level, tucked in the back. I can still remember how I felt as we'd approach. Right near the entrance was a life-size stuffed giraffe. There were games, stuffed animals, and my favorite: dolls.

One year, near Channukah, I remember looking longingly at a doll in the window: Poor Pitiful Pearl. Pearl was a woebegone girl: she had a shabby dress and a headscarf. She had big sad eyes, a button nose and no hint of a smile. Every time we went to the mall I had to spend at least a few minutes looking at her. And without fail, my mother would tell me she was too expensive. And my response, without fail, was always, "I'm just looking."

Jerry's mother, Judy, passed away last week. She had survived three lung cancer treatments over the last ten years, so by anyone's estimation, her life was a miracle. Judy was a collector: paintings, first-edition books, Lladro figures and dolls. She had Shirley Temples, Barbies, and a host of rare and collector-coveted specimens.

Several years ago when Judy was at the house, I pulled out my Whimsey Doll. Tillie The Talker certainly showed her age and the effects of a little girl's own whimsy. She had her hair cut and her ears pierced. But I loved her, and I still do. We got to talking about dolls and I told Judy the Poor Pitiful Pearl story.

The next Christmas, we were at Judy's house. She still lived in Dayna Point at the time, and we flew down, hauling presents for the family. Christmases at Judy's were known for their excess. Lots of stuff; not all of it something you really wanted, but the philosophy seemed to be more is more.

We had a nice dinner and then moved on to opening presents. Because of the multitude, we each took turns, opening one present at a time. There were t-shirts and tool kits from trade shows; there were flamingo socks. And then there was a big box for me from Judy.
Poor Pitiful Pearl, in her patched red dress and headscarf looking up at me with those sad eyes.

It may have been the best present I have ever received, and I still get teary thinking about it.

To call this year's Christmas subdued would hardly describe it. Jerry and I are pretty much ignoring the holiday. Four months ago his father in Southern California died, and now, just days ago, his mother, in northeast Texas went to sleep and didn't wake up. Fortunately Jerry had been there just the week before when they could still talk and tell each each other of their mutual love. I had been there in November, so I got to see Judy when she still had hope that she was going to once again, beat this thing. I am so thankful for Hospice coming in and telling her if she didn't feel like getting out of bed that was just fine, and letting her know it was okay to go.

The one holiday tradition I did not give up this year was baking and making candy. Every year I make a couple of batches of peppermint bark and I sell it to raise money for AIDS Lifecycle. I didn't hawk it as heavily as I usually do, but I sold five or six pounds, so raised some money for the cause closest to my heart. I also baked two different kinds of biscotti and as usual, toffee bars, which are Jerry's favorite.

This has been one hell of a year. And I am so looking forward to it being over. Jerry and I plan to make New Year's resolutions for the first time: we resolve to have a happy 2011, full of fun and travel.
God bless us all.