But was she a wise doll?
$95? That doll better be able to cook matzah ball soup.
“...the daughter of Russian Jewish immigrants”
Does she come with a red diaper?
But Rebecca's daughter,Sheri,lives in Scarsdale,drives a BMW 750 (when the Prius is in the shop),votes RAT because "those rich people just *don't* pay their fair share" and has had three abortions.
I have to hand it to the liberals. Despite our best attempts to create a melting pot and a uniquely ‘American’ identity, their attempts at multiculturalism have reduced us to a collection of tribes each functioning within our own spheres, each fostering a different culture with different values. We have only to wait for the white tribe to be outnumbered, and our common bond of English to fail before the final collapse.
Oh g-d.
... I’m a Jewish New Yorker?
I thought I lived in New Mexico... or has the Government finally decided where I am to live now?
A friend’s offspring attended Cornell about 10 years ago. There was an acronym that applied to Jewish female students. Around the school they were called “JAPS” which meant “Jewish American Princesses”.
I have the added advantage of spending a lot of time in Chicago on business requiring taking the bride to the shrine itself, American Girl Place, Michigan Avenue, The Mircle Mile.
I have spent many an dollar hour in that store.
Are you Pro Life / Anti Abortion?
American Girl Dolls has long been connected with Planned Parenthood and Radical Feminist Agenda - big time.
I'm just afraid that poor little Rebecca will wind up falling in with the wrong crowd. She'll meet a barb-bearded Trotskyite community organizer passing out pamphlets on Delancey Street and the next thing you know, she'll be marching with the Wobblies and taking up collections for the People's Army.
By the eve of World War II, she'll be writing for a left-wing city newspaper and raising her Red Diaper baby by herself after her activist lover wordlessly abandons her to go fight with the rebels in Spain, never to be heard from again. Her son will grow up troubled and rebellious, becoming an anarchist hippie war protester before developing a drug habit and falling out of life for a while. Eventually, he is rescued, in no small part by his mother, who loves him and needs him now more than ever. He cleans himself up, meets a nice girl, moves to the suburbs and eventually settles in as adjunct Professor of Sociology at NYU.
Rebecca will spend her declining years in a rent-controlled apartment on Riverside Drive in a neighborhood filled with nice, polite people; people who grew up in the same places and believing the same things as she does. They even speak a few words of Yiddish now and then, which always takes her back to a time and a place and a man whose face has grown as soft and indistinct as the one in the crumbling sepia photograph by her bedside.
This is a very comfortable place for her, and she has also softened with time, no longer angry at the world's manifest injustices, just weary at the prospect of them outliving her and yet she is happy, loves her life, her grandchildren.
On certain evenings she sits in her favorite chair balancing a fragile floral china coffee cup between calloused fingers. She looks out the bay window there on the 8th floor, out over the Hudson River, conjuring old pictorials behind her eyes and wondering what her life might have been like had she'd ever dared to travel outside New York and meet people from so many other walks of life. Funny how they were always there but rarely considered, those whose horizons extended to ideas and seas she knows she will likely never see.
So there's my biography for Rebecca, 1914; based on a few lives I know and have known.
We love AG dolls, especially the accessories! That being said, my daughters first AG was the American Indian colored Bitty Baby. This was a gift not long after 9-11, that poor doll was labeled “the Taliban baby” by my dear husband and it never got another name.