My American Girl

5.7.06

I put on my anthropologists helmet today to brave the sun, the bronzed breasts and brave souls of over 500 mothers waiting in line to allow their daughters the opportunity to "audition" for a bit part in an American Girl movie. A clever publicity stunt promised the opportunity for girls to have a chance to star along side the lead for an upcoming HBO movie about a 1930's character named Kit Kittredge. Hanah's enamored of the idea of being a movie star, so we got her all decked up and ready for "my close-up, Mr. Demille," as she reminded us all.

I love these escapades into my children's dream world, whether it be Noah's skate parks or Hanah's fairy garden we built in the back yard. We recalled Langston Hughe's poem "Hold fast to dreams," which I also use at work and I wondered looking at all of us lined up how many of us were there for our daughters' or our own dreams. Girls tottering on high heels, hiding behind oversized Audrey Hepburn glasses, wearing little versions of their mothers' youth seeking clothes or idealized visions of 30's modest attire. Mothers whose jobs it is to nurture our children's talents and dreams, and sometimes put aside our own in the process. Mothers whose dreams of eternal youth are evident in their nipple popping boob jobs, over injected lips, baby-doll shirts and lipo-ed abs.

I see girls looking lost in their attempts to look older while their moms ache to look younger. I see hope in the eyes of some and boredom in the eyes of others. I see a long line of dream makers in this great land of re-invention and self promotion. I see my own girl balancing between heat prostration and the desire to leave after an hour in the sun and her conviction that she has a chance at the part. I see patient parents reporting their progress on cell phones and then 3 nuns passing in the shade. I wonder what they think, what dreams they had as girls growing up.

We wend our way inside the labyrinthe that passes through the American Girl Place store (oh, my, how convenient, another chance to purchase something; what a coincidence?) and Hanah grows more and more excited as she gets her number and beams at everyone. We are well treated and coddled up the escalator. She is ushered into the theatre and then gently ejected after saying her one line. I ask how it went and she says, "great!" And counting all the other girls's numbers and knowing her chances of being cast, she now focuses on immediate gratification: ice cream and a visit to the bookstore, where she will indulge her fantasy world once again. Practical, philosophical, patient and ever positive, this 8 year old embodies all I love about the species Homosapiens Hopeful. She can dream, put in the long wait and then move on to the next treat in life. She is ready for her close-up.