A 74-year-old doll with a broken leg sits on the bed at my sister’s house. It was given to her by my mother.
That doll is a real survivor, her tight-blond plastic curls impeccable and her embroidered dress, only slightly faded. The dollâ€™s name is impossible for Americans to pronounce: GyĹ‘ngyi. Each phoneme of that name is as foreign to English-speaking natives as the story of her remarkable survival may be to most Americans. Read more »