Friends

by Sheila Connolly

I just returned from the mystery mega-conference Bouchercon, which is a rather overwhelming experience—the estimate I heard was that there were 1,200 attendees scattered among multiple hotels in Albany, all trying to find their way through a convention center with little signage.

But I was happily surprised to find how many friends I have made over the past few years.  I think this was the first year I could actually introduce people to each other and remember both their names.  You'd think writers could keep names straight, but maybe we're too busy naming our characters to bother with the real people standing in front of us (if I snubbed anybody, I apologize).  Since writers so often labor alone, the broader writers and readers communities are important to us, and it's a pleasure to have meals or to attend panels with a whole array of people, both familiar and newly met.

But before the event I had been thinking about an advice column from a recent Boston Globe Sunday magazine, titled "Betrayed by a best friend," written by Robin Abrahams (AKA Miss Conduct).  Someone wrote to her to complain that she had been dumped by a friend of over twenty years, who suffers from a mental illness and, to put it kindly, had not been a very good friend at any time.

That's hard enough.  I'm sure we've all had friends who suddenly turned on us for no apparent reason, and there's no way to find out why since that friend is no longer on speaking terms with you.  But the rejectee seemed extraordinarily troubled by this rejection:  five years later she is still haunted by the betrayal, to the extent of having nightmares about the former friend at least once a week. This can't be healthy.

Miss Conduct wisely said: find a therapist.  The writer has to come to terms with what happened before she can move on, which she has so far failed to do (and five years seems like a long time to nurse the hurt). 

But what stuck in my mind was a more general comment Miss Conduct made:

We don't have a cultural bank of stories about friendship gone wrong.  We have stories (and songs and quality cable dramas) about bad parents, bad lovers, bad bosses.  Our culture doesn't offer up many templates for "bad friend" stories or songs about breaking up with your best buddy.

Why is that, I wonder?  In one way we have more "friends" than ever, if we use social media at all.  We've turned "friend" into a verb:  will you friend me?  On the other hand, that friendship is about a quarter of an inch (or 140 characters) deep. We probably know more about our friends' pets than we do about them.

Friendship takes work.  It takes time to meet face to face, and talk, and share.  And listen.  There should be give and take.  There should be sympathy and support in hard times, and applause for the good things that happen.  That kind of durable relationship doesn't happen quickly.

I feel very lucky that I have held on to a few friends for several decades—one from high school, a few from college.  We still get together from time to time, to catch up.  Even if we don't always approve of what they have done with their lives, they still hold shared memories, of the people we were when we met.  We don't want to lose that.

If a friend turns toxic, grieve and move on.  But cherish those who are true friends.

COMING NEXT WEEK!

What a Doll

by Sheila Connolly


It seems that the gift-giving season is upon us, and there are American Girls everywhere. No, I don't mean humans—I mean the dolls. It's hard to turn around without finding yourself face to face with some, and that includes on the back page of the New York Times magazine. Actually that's not surprising, because that location probably best reaches the target purchasing audience: grandmothers.



I've always considered American Girl dolls "grandmother dolls," because they are the perfect gift to tell Grandma to give her little grand-darling (ideally, one single darling, and Grandma had better have done darn well during the market slump to afford this habit), and she can continue to add accessories and pets and furniture forever, or until the girl outgrows dolls. Which happens all too soon.


Don't get me wrongBI'm a big fan of the American Girl dolls. My daughter (now nearly 26) had two, who have been "asleep" in the attic for a while, until I let them out for their photo session. Meet Molly and Addie, circa mid 1990s. What they're waiting for, I don't know, but they, and their extended wardrobes, and their adorable trunk, are just too darn nice to throw away.


I admire the company's marketing. They started slowly and built carefully. They expanded into books to accompany their dolls, which I applaud (anything that gets kids reading is fine with me). Their community has grown to include almost every conceivable ethnic type, and the dolls span centuries, so you get a little history thrown in.


Recently I opened my local newspaper's magazine and was confronted by yet another full-page American Girl ad, suggesting that you (well, a child known to you the readerByou know, the one with the credit card) go online and create your own doll.


You can choose not only eye color, hair color and texture, skin color, but you can also decide whether your doll needs glasses, has braces, and wears earrings. You can give her a horse, and a t-shirt with a picture of the horse.


As a writer I looked at this and thought, what would a child want? Would she choose to recreate herself, or would she want to build an imaginary friend? And in a vague way the concept of choosing a kind of Mini-Me troubled me. It's like asking a child to build an alter ego, or to generate a split personality right before your eyes. I assume most children, at least the younger ones, talk to their dolls; would this then be like talking to themselves? Slightly older, and they will act out scenarios for the dolls, with or without companion dolls (note: they are no male American Girl dolls, so it's kind of a gender-biased little universe they've made). In that case, are you projecting yourself on your doll? Does she become the better, smarter, faster you?


Let's take the other choice: creating a doll to be your best friend. What do you choose? Do you model the doll on your flesh-and-blood best friend of the moment? If you're too young you may not realize that these intense relationships can quickly reverse themselves, and then you'd be stuck with a reminder of your lost BFF. Person with credit card, you may want to step in with some timely suggestions here.


Would a politically correct child choose a doll of different ethnicity? And don't forget--if your child has a disability, there's even a wheelchair available.


Are you wondering about price? The basic doll costs you $95. The glasses are $8, the pierced earrings another $14. Sorry, the braces were sold out (really?). My hypothetical doll is now up to $123, and I haven't even bought her furniture or a pony. Check out the pets: oops, dogs outnumber cats. Who decided that one? Anyway, if you want a calico kitten, it's another $20.


And if you like the cupcake slippers, they're $20. I'm trying to remember the last time I paid that much for slippers for me, and I'm much larger than an American Girl doll.


But back to the message...American Girl has done well in providing an array of choices in dolls for a generation now. They make a quality product, and the dolls have been popular. Design-your-own is a logical step in this computer-driven world. But it still comes down to a basic question: who are you and who do you want to be? Do you want a mirror or a friend? Maybe it's better than young girls face that with a safe doll before they have to confront it in the real world.


Maybe I'll go talk to Addie and Molly. It's nice to see them again.

I think Addie borrowed Molly's outfit.  That's what friends are for, right?