Dolly

Last night as I was wandering Prague with Oscar and a colleague, I had a quick memory flash of my old neighbor Dolly in Indianapolis. This flash kept me digging and digging in my memory all night and into this morning. Of course, this person was much more than a neighbor or even a friend. She watched my brothers and me grow from young children into young adults. She always took a special non-intrusive care of us that no one could ever touch. Although she had many other friends, various family members, and a house of wall-to-wall curio cabinets filled with antiques, her love was amazingly unconditional.

Every spring the most anticipated events of the neighborhood were the arrival of the ice cream truck and Dolly’s garage sales. Her car was always parked outside of the garage, (which was used as her friendly neighborhood antique store). From my bedroom window I could see if the metal announcement sing was posted in her front yard. Some Saturday mornings, the bright sun and clear skies was the only sign necessary for me to know that Dolly was in business. Even if she wasn’t in business, I could come by and admire her antiques while helping with her beautiful garden or listen to her wild adventures from her smoke lined dark green home.

Dolly’s best friend Vera was a constant companion at the sales. The two ladies were the most dynamic business women ever encountered. They could update one another with local news while simultaneously haggling with a customer about a set of crystal champagne flutes. If I dropped by for a visit, it was often that I would sit between the two women and pretend that I knew anything about neighborhood gossip. I loved being a child, but with Dolly, I felt like another ageless soul.

Throughout the years, the sales continued, flowers bloomed, pink flamingos swayed in the wind, and Dolly kept smiling and sharing. She always watched out for us, (easy being the neighborhood watch dog), but she never felt like a busy body. Dolly greeted everyone the same with a, “How ya’ doing?” The stories continued from there. The greatest threat to Dolly’s home came in the form of mice. She posted threats clearly in the center of the kitchen, which stated that all mice would be fined $500 for trespassing. If this fine were not paid, their lives would be at stake.

When my family chose to sell my grandmother’s antiques, we consulted Dolly and her books for advice in pricing. In the basement of grandmother’s cottage I found a tiny ceramic gnome. In my young mind, I conjured that this would be the most valuable piece of treasure and any Antique Road show host would appraise my find for millions. I’m sure that Dolly saw the worthlessness of value in this small piece, but she pressed my hands carefully around it and said, “This is very special for you. Keep it for a long time.” The joy of a secret treasure beat out all ideals of monetary value.

When I left for university, each return home was greeted by Dolly. After an afternoon of coca cola and stories, my mother would find me incensed in cigarette smoke and high on life. In one of the visits, I learned that her friend Vera had died. She was, after all, 88 years old, but for Dolly it seemed like her identical twin had left forever.

In another return, Dolly and I went antiquing. Dolly’s keen sense of what she wanted was exceptional. She could sniff out beautiful German porcelain and still keep her cool in order to throw off other antique collectors. Everyone at the auction house knew her by name and thought I was some grandchild. There were some “Little Orphan Annie” stamps that I had eyed, but they were part of a larger estate collection. In the end, another person outbid my hope of Annie. The rest of the day granted Dolly another special Goebel piece for her cabinets. Before leaving though, she confronted the man that acquired the stamps and paid him for the set. She brought them to me with a look that said, “What? It’s all in a day’s work!”

When I learned of Dolly’s death, I had just finished a Spanish class at St. Maarten Montessori School. The elementary library seemed like a maze even though it was very open. Some people in this world feel timeless. Death isn’t an option until it catches everyone off-guard. Dolly’s house would now appear un-recognizable from my favorite summer time retreat, but her spirit has traveled the world. When difficult situations arise, I always remember that tougher people have looked into stranger dangers with greater smiles. Adventure is always around the corner.