Auntie Merrill's Fairy Tales for a Modern World
Snow White and the Seven To-Do Lists.
When I was in elementary school, I consumed as many fairy tales as I could get my hands on. I loved the idea of a life enhanced by magic. Although I definitely found it hard to relate to the lives of the people in the stories, especially the females. A lot of those stories were horribly upsetting. (I’m looking at you, The Singing Bone.) Hans Christian Anderson and the Grimm Brothers were very sadistic. Occasionally something didn’t end too badly. Cinderella did okay. But most of the stories ended in some kind of nightmarish scenario. I was scarred for life by the beloved children’s tale “The Little Match Girl.” Thank you, Hans Christian Anderson. Thanks a lot.
Who were these stories for? They couldn’t be for children. “Go to sleep now, my child. Sweet dreams! Don’t be sad that the little match girl froze to death. Focus, instead, on how she died with a smile on her face because the ghost of her dead grandma came to carry her up to heaven! How could you ask for a happier ending than that, my child? Now close your eyes and pray that this may be the fate that will befall you next time you are asked to sell Girl Scout cookies.”
Of course, once Disney started adapting them, the stories got a bit more relatable. Snow White and I had a few things in common.
Of course, the similarities stopped there. The resolutions to our stories don’t really match.
As everyone knows, after being kissed awake by Prince Charming, Snow White decided to go live in the castle with him. So she said goodbye to the seven slovenly, childish, height challenged miners who had almost certainly been taking all the house work she did for them for granted. Chances are that after she left, they went back to eating crap and living in filth and chaos, having learned nothing from the whole experience.
Whereas, after I met a prince-equivalent in my life, (without ever laying in a glass coffin) I, too, got married but my battalion of To Do lists became more powerful, unruly and harder to control. They not only followed me everywhere, but they began to multiply.
In time, they doubled, then tripled and began branching out and becoming more diversified. Then the prince himself began to contribute to the lists with lists of his own.
Soon I could not ignore the truth: that I was surrounded by a belligerent mob of irritatingly numbered demands. Each one expected to be obeyed immediately. None would take no for an answer. I needed to get them under control. But how?
Then it occurred to me that perhaps the answer I was seeking could be found in the sadistic plot lines of the Grimm brothers and Hans Christian Anderson.
And thus it came to pass that I decided to burn those helpful lists to cinders.
And so…
“Was that the very end of being ruled by the lists, Auntie Merrill?”
Sadly, no.
And now you know the tale of how I came to write this story. It’s time for sleep, my child. May you never think of this again.
The End.
I have a horrid thing on my to-do list. I put it there myself. I could just burn the to-do list, and then poof it would be gone. Off my mind like everything that happened last week. But I don't and I can't. So to procrastinate I'm going to write about it on the comment section of "Still looking for the Joke" by the brilliant writer Merril Markoe.
I have to write about my dead sister. I have to write about my dead sister to help raise money for the thing she used to do when she was my alive sister. Why did I decide to do this?! Every year since she died in November of 2019 I have made myself write about Heidi and then ask people to donate food or money because Heidi Schloegel Hynes was a saintly woman who inspires people to give money and time to poor people. They did obituary in THE New York Times.
It's so fucking depressing. That she died. And that people don't care about poor people. And countries bomb the shit out of each other. And last week my neighbor stabbed his wife. WTF?
Why do I even want to write down what's going on? We have Merrill to bring joy in her suffering. Isn't that enough? I'll probably do it anyway. Write about my sister and remember how she advocated for peace and worked with teenagers to deliver healthy food to The Bronx.
Heidi had a friend Pat who had a very dark sense of humor. When I saw him in the hospital during that last week. I laid a joke on him that was right up his alley. I said, "Why couldn't it have been you?" But instead of laughing, he said, "I know, right"
It's on the to-do list. I got this. Thanks Merrill Markoe for the great stuff. It always brings me joy.
https://citylimits.org/2019/11/29/remembering-heidi-hynes-who-harnessed-outrage-and-joy-in-a-life-of-advocacy/
This is it, Merrill. You've done it.