Ode to Mr Bear

Shortly after I was born, a teddy bear was given to me as a new baby gift. That bear became my best friend for the first years of my life. We spent many hours together, telling each other our deepest darkest secrets. It's evident that I loved him. He has virtually no fur left, just some around the seams. His ears no longer have lining, and they just kinda hang there.

I remember the day he got a huge hole in his back. I don't remember how it got there, all I remember is that it was there, and he was losing his stuffing..... fast.

I went to the bathroom and found some kleenex and I remember stuffing his limp little body with those tissues. I got a needle from my mother's sewing basket and some black thread (nevermind the bear is brown). I bet the eye on that needle was big enough to drive a bus through!! Through the eye and double the thread. Then a knot on the end. Huge whipstitches closed the hole. The little bear's body was a little distorted from the huge stitches, but no longer did he "leak" his fluffs.

Around the age of five, teddy and I were no longer "best" friends. In fact, I was a little ashamed of him as I grew up, the scraggly looking thing. In about first grade, we had a Christmas program with a song about a bear. I was so embarassed by my old bear that I wanted to hold someone ELSE'S bear during the show. Sadly I got stuck with my own scruffy bear.

When I was about seven, my was preparing for a garage sale, or donations or something and I decided to get rid of Mr Bear. I decided I was too big for him and Mom said, "well, if you're gonna get rid of him, I'll keep him." That very second, I had a change of heart and decided that Mr. Bear would stay.

As I became an adult, I realized I was so lucky..... I still had my childhood buddy. Many of his peers had ended up in garage sales, thrift sales and, god forbid, trash cans.

It's funny, Mr. Bear never really had a name. All my other stuffed animals had names... always. In fact, I can still remember most of them. There was Pooh (a big bear) and Kermit (my frog), Scooter (my basset hound - that last I knew was still floating around Seth's stuff). As an adult, I decided that I couldn't just call him "the bear" or "my bear" anymore, but giving him a name like "Bob" would seem funny now. Somehow, the name "Mr. Bear" seemed appropriate and stuck.

Mr. Bear now hangs out at my house. Sometimes he gets to sit on the guest bed (which has junk on it at the moment) or my childhood chair. Lately, he's been sleeping in a bag and traveling to shoots as a prop.

I wonder, if Toy Story is real, is Mr. Bear happy he gets to hang out with me sometimes?

I mean, Toy Story is real right?
RIGHT????!!1!

I have peace of mind, knowing that Mr. Bear will never suffer the same fate as other childhood bears.

Years ago, I used to make teddy bears. I swear, someday I'll dig out some photos and scan them for you to see. Anyway, I had a website that had photos of my bears, and low and behold, I remembered my site had some info on Mr. Bear. When I pulled it up, I found this old poem about bears that I wrote.

{Please don't slay me. I know I suck at poetry. Especially bear poetry.}

Teddy Bear Prayer

Dear God,

Please take care of my Teddy.
Although he's old and worn,
He's been my best friend,
Since the day I was born

One eye is gone,
And an ear is torn and missing.
His smile is a little crooked,
But he's very good at listening.

I have loved him lots and lots,
You can tell it in his fur.
His little paws are very worn,
You just need to kiss them, sir.

Mommy says that I'm too old
To keep my bear in bed,
I'm not sure I believe her,
She thinks I'm too old for Ted.

Please keep him safe, and keep him warm,
Keep him from big dogs.
I want to keep him the way he is,
I know you'll care for him God.

Amen