Elsie Doll

Elsie Doll . . .

My cute grandmother, Elsie Doll, mom's mom, left in Jesus' arms last Tuesday at around 4pm. I had just gotten back from Daytona Bike Week. Poppy, my dad, called me to let me know that she wasn't doing so good. There I was happily slinging beers and mixing Crown and Cokes, Jim Beam and Waters, to really happy Broken Spoke patrons...you know the deal.

Elsie Doll was the bartender extraordinaire. She defined bartending. Elsie Doll was the artisan of alcohol mixing...a fine mixologist. But she didn't teach me to bartend. No, I learned it on the fly, like many things I do in life.

Elsie Doll taught me acceptance. She totally accepted me. In fact, for her wake, I wore my tore up art jeans and halter top. Sure, family members gave me the look of unacceptance, of how could she show up wearing something like that. I looked hoochie coo, rock N roll, motorcycle chick, etc. But I was me. And that's exactly how Elsie enjoyed ME. As Me, For Me. No questions asked.

Oh, if I arrived wearing the threads I had on to her nursing home room, oh she would have giggled with delight and said, "Oh, now, look at YOU!" Then she would have paraded me around and showed all her bitty pals her granddaughter Sasha. She didn't call me by my first name either, the one that gives me the willies and makes me feel like a fourth grade dork in coke-bottle glasses. No, Elsie Doll called me by the name which was given to me by my big bro when I was sixteen, Sasha.

Elsie Doll was still in her early twenties at heart. She loved the lifestyle that I led, but wished that I could find a chrome charming with whom to share my crazy, exciting experiences and unique lifestyle. I remember last summer, laying my head in her wheelchair bound lap and sobbing about how men suck...how they lie and sweet talk you and then leave you by the curb like Tuesday's trash. She cried too. I didn't mean for her to cry. But together we found a bunch of strength in our tears. Elsie didn't want to age. Her mind was still so young and exuberant. She had lived a very hard life, filled with struggle, torment, and love loss. Filled with terrible heartbreak and disappointments. But, with dignity, she would handle her cards, the shitty cards dealt, like a stealthy blackjack player with a smile...will she win?

She would tell me how when she'd look in the mirror, she couldn't believe the change in her face from a vibrant young woman, to a wise older lady...it all went so fast, she claimed. And it did. Elsie wouldn't just walk, when she moved she had this lilting bounce and she couldn't do enough for everyone. She took care of everybody's needs, abandoning her own many times, until her cool sister, Olive would intervene and take her fun places. Elsie had this laugh that would go on for days. Sometimes she and I would laugh so hard we'd have tears and snot rolling down our faces. We'd also have tears and snot rolling when we cried, too. It's all the same tears and snot anyway.

I love my Elsie Doll. I miss speaking with her. We'd laugh and laugh about things. My last conversation with her was about the new love in my life and his two amazing kids. How we all lived together merrily in my new Nashville home. It was bliss. Their mom was great too, and she had become my new friend. To have a little family, though new and evolving, I felt incredibly fulfilled. Especially because my reproduction system can't reproduce without the help of invitro. So, I'd dream that I could be a really fun and inspiring guardian otherwise, through a relationship with a guy who already had kids, through adoption; there were other means to achieve some sort of motherly role.

So here this funny, wacky artist chick and domestic Goddess all in one found a great little family and our home was filled with joy, art, music and motorcycles, and a lot of silliness and laughter. Elsie was so happy for me. She knows my domestic Goddess side, the nester; the motorcycle mamma who nurtures and caregives for everyone. Now, all of me could be fulfilled under my roof as I was able to become the cool roles that I longed to be, with my new man and his little cherubs.

I didn't call her again after that. Because I was ashamed, you see. The man turned out to be, let's say, a hurtful and harmful character in my life. So we broke up. He scooted off to reunite with his ex-wife. God's hand once again taking a horrible situation and possibly repairing a torn sacrament of yore? Who knows. If God wants the little family reunited after their years of divorce, well, who am I to ever question that? The decision belongs to three: God, the guy, and his ex-wife.

What I know is that I was devastated....very sad over the break up. I gave so much of myself. The end was pretty much declared when he smirked to me "We make the perfect bad couple: you're the giver and I'm the taker." I was horrified. I wanted to call Elsie, I wanted to lay my head in her lap again and cry "Help me Elsie Doll, oh take this pain!" And have her stroke my hair with her sadly arthritic hands as she would tell me in her shaky voice that "It's okay Sweetheart. I'm here for you. I love you." But I couldn't make that fu(&king call. Even though I painfully longed to speak with her. Because I wanted her to continue to feel the great beauty of our last conversation when I was so happy, telling her all about the children, my dear man, and my new life in Nashville. She was incredibly glad for me.

So, my last words to her were those that she longed to hear. That I was happy, had a little family in my life and a great guy. Had a generously sized home, too, you know -- no longer living in a tiny one-room, studio apartment in NYC alone.

Though the final truth I could not reveal to her. How many times did I go to dial her and hang up? How many times did I dial her and not get her? Many. And because of this wretched experience with this last boyfriend, I didn't have the guts to speak with my beloved Elsie again...to tell her that it failed... So I never heard her sweet voice again.

But now she knows everything. She's here with me, I know. She still believes in me. Elsie Doll is my treasure and will always be.