Seeing her there, the crystal casket shattering the sunset, he believed he had never seen a vision more beautiful. Her hair black as ebony, her lips red as blood, her skin white as snow. But she lay as dead, a curious assortment of short, burly men arranged around her resting place in postures of misery. “Who is she?” he called to the mourners and in one choked voice, they replied “Snow White.” In his heart, he knew he must possess this beauty, that his health, his happiness, his very sanity depended on being able to cast his eyes daily upon Snow White. “Make haste,” he called to his page. “Run and tell the king’s builders they must construct a plinth, one suitable to hold the most beautiful object the kingdom has ever seen. And tell them to place it in front of the window by my bed.” In that way he knew with the first light of day and the last light of evening, his eyes would rest on the face of Snow White. “Good dwarves,” he said. “I am a prince. I have gold. Let’s make a deal.” Inspired by the Grimm Brothers’ fairy tale “Snow White”.
“Mine!” The word is spoken with the bold confidence unique to toddlers. She sets her chin and with her steady, blue gaze traps me in the unenviable spot of having to tell my beloved granddaughter, “No, that’s not yours. That’s mine.” Let’s face it. I would give this child anything that is in my power to give. And even though she has just claimed my precious iPad, my first inclination is to let her have it. Wouldn’t she love me all the more if I did? Isn’t it selfish of me to deny her? But the small measure of common sense I still possess tells me capitulation would not be good for either of us, so I quietly contradict her. She smiles. This was a test and we both passed. Hurray!
Macie is just learning about the line between what is hers and what belongs to someone else. She is only vaguely aware that sometimes others’ needs take precedence over her own and that “I want that” wishes are not always granted. These are difficult lessons. I tell her parents to stay strong, but I remember how challenging it is to lovingly confront a half-pint narcissist bent on world domination. Stored among my memories is my son’s birthday declaration, “I’m six years old. Now I can do anything I want!” When I popped that balloon, I broke my own heart. Such freedom doesn’t come at any age.
Jon Provost–“Timmy Martin”
In childhood, freely voicing your desires is tricky business. Timing and intonation can mean the difference between a dream fulfilled and bitter disappointment. And woe to the kid who has to negotiate the vague and transitory line between need and want. In the early 60s, parents swooned over Timmy Martin, the dimpled cherub who had so few needs he was raised by the family pet. Timmy never required anything that Lassie could not provide. And though not once did he actually fall down a well, week after week his faithful collie rescued him from dire situations both literal and existential. If at birth every child was issued a selfless Lassie all their own, I imagine the world would be a much healthier place.
Certainly, Snow White could have benefited from a cunning canine companion–a Toto or a Nana who would have sensed when things at the castle were about to turn ugly. A dog, wise to the ways of royal intrigue, could have saved the poor princess with a simple act of judicious forgetfulness–a misplaced bone on the stairs outside the Queen’s boudoir and, quick as an inattentive step, “ding, dong the…(you know the rest)”. As the new queen, Snow could have charted her own future. Or was the prince’s kiss really the culmination of her dreams? Of course, when she awoke with a lover and a life already settled, it would have been selfish for her to express a conflicting desire. If it’s one thing fairy tale princesses know, it’s not to make a fuss.
We have all done time in Snow White’s glass box, keeping silent about our dreams and needs, because voicing them would have been inconvenient. We have also ridden through metaphoric forests as the prince, loudly laying claim to the objects of our affection while overlooking the humanity within. It’s not easy. We’re all toddlers when it comes to knowing when to speak up and when to give ground. With each new relationship, we have to start from scratch. Maybe finding our voice is easier when we remember that all of us, beauty and beast, carry in our hearts the same basic desires–to love and be loved and to feel respected and safe. That is my wish for Snow White and her prince–that their happily ever after is big enough for more than one voice and more than one dream. Certainly, that is my wish for Macie and for you.
As if Mumford and Sons wasn’t enough, here is some excellent bonus material–a wonderful poem by Delia Sherman, “Snow White to the Prince”.
Being Dorothy 