MY PRISTINE BRIDE

MY PRISTINE BRIDE

Like all other eight-year-old girls at Christmas in Toronto, I eagerly awaited Santa's arrival. I thought "Auntie Myrtle" and "Uncle Harold",(family friends), were Mrs. Claus and Santa's Helper since they invariably showed up on Christmas eve loaded down with oodles of shiny, colourful, multi-patterned, gifts adorned with beautiful bows and curly-Q ribbons. Inside the packages were decorative tins of cookies, mother's chocolates, hand-made flannel pajamas for daddy and me, my silver LifeSavers 'book’ and the usual boring piece of sterling silver to add to my collection of cutlery for my hope chest!

Actually Auntie Myrtle treated me like the child she never had. She doted on me, had me stay at her apartment quite often and dragged me all over Eaton's and Simpson's, the two Toronto conglomerate department store giants at that time. If I even so much as nodded at something on a store shelf she would buy it for me. It was embarrassing because I would have to take it home and 'explain' to mother who would get mad and accuse me of acting “poor-mouth and “begging” for things in the stores (an abhorrent thought!).Then my mother would take my gifts back to the store anyway and buy something for herself!

Auntie “M”  was a most generous lady. Every time she saw me she would scrunch a two-dollarbill in my hand and order me not to tell my mother! Right! It was always the first thing my mother forced me to hand over as soon as Myrtle left!

You know, Auntie Myrtle was genuinely fond of daddy and, wanting to keep him covered and cozy, each Christmas renewed his supply of pjs. It was uproariously funny that year when she sewed a new style of pajamas for daddy--the kind with the big "balloon" bum hanging off the back. I guess they were meant to give more bending around room but they actually looked completely ridiculous because daddy was very slender and the bum part just stuck right out, full of air not daddy! (I still giggle when I think of them). Also, under the tree was her predictable, annual 'surprise' gift of a new tie, conspicuous in its long flat box-- which, despite the gawdy patterns, daddy always graciously accepted and wore with humble appreciation.

"If it's Thursday, it must be Myrtle", mother announced with the ringing of the doorbell every Thursday. My Auntie "M" was a very caring and thoughtful person but obsessed with what she perceived as my being "too thin". So, on Thursdays she always brought two chocolate éclairs, one for mother and one for me---you know those big pastries shaped like a hot dog bun, covered in chocolate and filled with creamy icing. (To this day I can’t even look at chocolate éclairs in the doughnut shop.)

Myrtle seemed to enjoy my mother’s company, however one could never tell for certain from her Christmas gifts to mother. Without fail mother got a hand-made apron and an humongous box of Laura Secord chocolates which, although were quite delicious, were the main reason behind mother needing a new apron with longer ties with each passing year! I heard Auntie “M” say on several occasions, "Kay I knew you didn't need anything so I just got your favourite chocolates". Mother would always smile and thank her profusely to her face and then, behind Myrtle’s back, would go on and on about how cheap she was. Let me point out that my adoptive mother was an accomplished professional in the art of two-facedness!

Of course the largest volume of gifts always had my name on the tags. My favourites were the little girls’ cosmetics, such as fake nail polish and lipstick, bubble bath, supplies to work on my newly learned crafty talents, or the ever-popular artist-creating paint-by-numbers kits! But then there was always what the adults perceived as Auntie Myrtle’s really important gift for me, the one in the smallest package.

Myrtle began, and my parents continued, this ritual presentation of an expensive “to be enjoyed only at some time in the future” gift in order to help me build up my entire set of silverware for eight'. This "hope chest" collection was to be completed before I grew up and got married! It was just another piece of Sterling silverware to add to my collection, but of
course I was to NEVER remove these cutlery items from their plastic slips otherwise to face extreme chastisement in directly proportion to the degree of tarnishing.

The only problem was that I was always disappointed by
this 'future' gift and it showed. What little girl wants silverware? (All this collection ever netted this future divorced mother of two, was one month's mortgage payment 30 years later--irregardless of the pristine condition of the entire collection vacuum sealed in plastic). Little girls want toys and dolls. I guess since they never had any children they didn't know this fact. I always tried to be polite and mother invariably went overboard thanking her and fussing over the latest fork or spoon. I guess mother was always adding up my worth by the suggested retail value of my possessions.
 
Uncle Harold was the top Toronto salesman for new Pontiacs at some major dealership and this meant they always drove a brand new car and, without children of their own, they always had a lot of money to throw around. Nevertheless, because Auntie Myrtle was an avid crafts person she loved to share her homemade gifts more than anything. She loved to make handi-crafts and even taught me to sew, embroider, do needle-point, crochet and knit. She would buy sugar in cloth sacks so we could bleach and cut them apart and use them to embroider patterned tea towels. I made them with little sayings for every day of the week..you know, like “Mondays are for washing, Tuesdays for sewing”, etc. It was always great fun to do these things with Auntie Myrtle..I felt very proud of my little creations I had accomplished. Unfortunately my mother seized any opportunity to ridicule me and she made fun of my cute little sugar-sack tea towels, once again making me feel worthless and incompetent!

Since Auntie Myrtle was the best at spoiling me to death, I knew that particular Christmas would be no exception--and would certainly not disappoint since there was something else,
something really, really big--and just for me! I wanted to tear open the wrapping but I had to open it carefully, (so it could be re-used the following year). Amazed, when I got down to the box I saw it was a beautiful big bride doll regally draped in the most amazing gown ever created! I named her Queenie because she looked so like a Queen and a Bride. Of course she had a white gown smothered in layered lace and eyelet, lots of pearls and a perfectly lovely veil. She even had on lace-trimmed knickers down to her ankles with removable, not painted-on, dainty miniature white satin high heels.

What with all the presents and all the trimmings it was a very, very good year! I don’t recall any other gifts I received, I only remember playing with Queenie--and, of course, my imagination. But as I had learned at a very tender age, all good things always come to an end. After everyone was bloated on Christmas turkey dinner, Mrs. Claus and Santa's Helper went home and Daddy napped on the Chesterfield, mother stashed Queenie away in her own bottom dresser drawer.

Because it was such a large, heavy old drawer I could not open it without help. You had to have an adult’s reach so you could pull on both handles at once, otherwise the drawer just jammed sideways and stuck. I was only permitted to bring Queenie out of her mahogany coffin to play whenever Auntie Myrtle visited on Thursdays. Mother said I would get Queenie dirty and ruin her so I was never allowed to touch her again without mother’s supervision.

After a long time I made myself hate Queenie so I wouldn't miss her so much. At some point in time I despised that pristine bride in mother's drawer so much I decided I never even wanted to play with her, ever again, and so I never did!

I have no earthly idea where my pristine bride doll ever ended up. My best guess is that she was donated to the church for a charity bazaar and some happy little girl got to meet Queenie on Christmas morning! I imagine she would have played with Queenie plenty--and probably even got her dress all dirty! But I am certain that HER mother just washed the dress!

She would have played with our pristine bride all she ever wanted to, never imagining she was playing for this little girl too!