My older sister is in town and together we’re going through the crap things my stepmother accumulated, sorting what gets kept, what gets sold in the massive garage sale we’ll be having, and what goes directly into the trash.
For several years a Howdy Doody doll sat on a shelf in one of the bedrooms, his creepy persona smiling down upon all who dared enter. The room is one all the kids use when they stay over, so it’s full of toys and dolls and other detritus of youth.
I noticed he was missing a few months ago but didn’t mention it to anyone. My younger sister, also visiting from out of town, noticed it right away when she arrived last week. She’d wanted to take him home with her (better her home than mine!) She did a cursory search for it to no avail, and after spending some lovely time together she went back to Georgia empty-handed.
Today as my older sister and I were sorting crap crap I heard her say, “I found him!” I turned around to see her pull Howdy from a corner of the room, where he’d been buried under a pile of dolls and stuffed animals. Howdy’s shirt was unbuttoned.
And his pants were around his ankles.
We called our younger sister and told her we’d found Howdy, that he’d been violated, but we’re hopeful that with some good therapy he’ll eventually be okay.
Poor Howdy. Those dolls look so innocent. And they chose their victim well. Howdy will never tell.