Nancy Kline
AUTHOR

I Did 1

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Did I have a little porcelain Madame Alexander doll with a pretend trunk full of clothes for every occasion? Did I play with her for hours under the willow tree?

 

I did.

 

Did I have an adorable Dy-Dee doll with washable hair, blinkable eyes, silky eyelashes, moveable arms and legs, a mouth that drank water from a tiny bottle and peed from the tiny hole in a tiny rubber patch on her right buttock? Did I have a stack of tiny diapers for changing her?

 

I did.

 

Did I play paper dolls by crawling inside the kindling storage alcove to the right of the fireplace, setting up a “bedroom” in there on the gas valve ledge?

 

I did.

 

Did I play “bride,” putting a petticoat/veil over my head, carrying fanned wads of Kleenex/my bouquet, walking down my sister’s dressing room carpet/aisle to the mirror/altar, promising to obey, putting on a ring from a Cracker Jacks box, and kissing the mirror/groom?

 

I did.

 

Did I pretend to be a glamorous woman on a ship receiving on a silver salver passionate letters from her lover across the ocean?

 

I did.

 

Did I stand under the sparkling glass mistletoe holder in the front hall and kiss the wall/boyfriend?

 

I did.

 

Did I play “Bolshoi Ballerina” by twirling in my pink tutu in the recreation room to “My Prince Will Come?”

 

I did.

 

Did I play “pioneer wife” in my mother’s long 19th century costume dress with twenty-five buttons up the front?

 

I did.

 

Did I become hysterical because I had to wear an ankle cast for 6 weeks and thought no boy would ever like me again?

 

I did.

 

Did I join the Girl Scouts and sell Girl Scout cookies and pledge to be obedient?

 

I did.

 

 

 

Did I, at 22, become a feminist?

 

I did.

 

Have I for 58 years fought for gender equality and human rights? Did I publish a book called, “Women and Power: How Far Can We Go?” Do I, with every breath, advocate for women to lead and shape the world?

 

I do.

 

Do reason, information, and lives win out over childhood?

 

They do.

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1 With appreciation to Brian Doyle’s, One Long River of Song, Little Brown, NY, 2019, p.31