Monday, January 09, 2006
Meet Bobo (pronounced BAH-BOW)
This little dude, Bobo (BAH-BOW), is about 38 years old. Yes, he has the mange.
Our bonding occurred when he was 3 and I was 7, when I was quarantined in the hospital with spinal meningitis, and Mama ER had the sense not to let me have him, since he would have to be destroyed. I cried for him, but he had to stay away. So, he got to live.
Bobo lives on the top shelf of my computer desk here in my home office.
I am confident enough in my orientation to admit I still have, and love, my teddy bear. Call me Radar! Heck, there are stuffed animals all over this house -- and that's only partly because until recently two stuffed-critter-lovin' females lived here.
Now there's just one female livin' in this casa. But we both love our stuffed critters.
'Fess up! What stuffed critters do you have livin' at YOUR Place, and in your heart and memory?
Now I have a cherished Mama and baby koalah bear pair that my mama gave me after I'd left home. I'll have them for as long as they last.
Other treasured stuffed animals over the years include a baby Snoopy I got the summer of 1984 while I was on a fellowship in New York City at United Features (the syndicate that licenses the Peanuts characters.) And my former mother-in-law gave me a black-and-white Gund cow, complete with a bell 'round its neck. Both since have passed along to other kiddos who needed a comfort critter.
Now my church has stuffed animals in the pews during services. After a month, they leave to serve with the Highway Patrol and we get a new batch of recruits to break in. They go to stay with kids who are in traumatic circumstances when the patrol meets them.
animal queen. They are every where
in her room. But her very favorite
is a small stuff lamb. Lambie has
been maulded by the dogs. (I looked
out the window on day to see 2 of
our puppies playing tug a war with
her. I saved her once again. She
has lived thur the washer at least
3 times. I am afraid she won't make
it again. But she won't let her go.
She has a pink and white checked
dress. (like Dorothy in the Wizzard
of Oz) On Sunday I was just thinking that I need to do something to perserve her. So I
took a good close up picture of her. So my little princess can
remember her the way she was.
I'm just kidding. I had an imaginary friend, Bob, so I guess that got me by. He left a couple of years ago. :-)
Actually, you don't necessarily need a teddy bear when you ARE a Teddy Bear. :-)
What the hey, I've already tossed my R today anyway!
Until recently, the only stuffed animals of mine in the house were critters I'd shot and paid un-Godly sums to have preserved. When I was home at Thanksgiving, though, Mama had run across my old "Snoopy". He's not the real Snoopy, just a stuffed dog that I called Snoopy as a kid. Poor ole Snoopy has the mange, too.
That dog is the source of my oldest memory. When I about 2-1/2 my Dad got transferred to the place that I consider my home town. I accompanied my parents on a house-hunting trip. Snoopy came, too. Somehow, someway, Snoopy got left behind in the house we looked at (my parents still live in that house). When we got back home and I realized Snoopy was missing, I was inconsolable. I didn't sleep that first night - and neither did Mama. The next morning, Daddy called the realtor to ask him (her?) if he'd go check the house. Apparently he checked, but didn't see it. Dad came home and told me it was lost forever. After some more crying I 'had a vision'. I told my Dad exacly where Snoopy was - on a windowsill in the living room, behind the drapes. Dad's memory takes over from there - he apparently called the realtor who said it was not there. I was so down-trodden that Daddy drove back over there (a 4-hour drive) that next day and had the realtor let him in. Snoopy was right where I said it was. I wish I could say Snoopy sat in some seat of honor, but right now he's sitting between two stacks of sweaters in my wife's closet.
The other day I was in my brother's house, which is the house I started growing up in and lived in until I was 14, when we moved into a new house next door. What is his bedroom now was my parents' bedroom. I stood right where the baby bed was when I was too little to sleep anywhere else.
I remembered being in that baby bed once when I was sick and it was dark and I was alone, seeing and hearing what I ONLY LATER learned to be a choir.
I've come to consider seriously the possibility that I was nigh unto death and was "seeing" in little bitty baby ways, the heavenly welcome wagon.
Runs in the family. Mama ER teells of a kinfolk who was nigh unto death, lost, whose mama "prayed him back," bargaining for God to take her instead, to give the young man another chance at gettin' right.
He (capital H) did, she died, and he did, reporting the sensation of "hovering" over hell itself just before he started to get well and she started to decline. the story goes.
None of which has to do with teddy bears -- it does have to do with things we hold most dear. :-)
Years later, embarrasingly enough, I interviewed Bob Keeshan and was so tongue-tied at being alone in a room with him that I stammered rather stupidly, "I used to call you 'Cappy Doo' when I was little.' "
He just smiled and said, "That's nice, (Nick.)."
Thus I formed my first axiom to live by: Forgive and Remember.
I found a replica of Brownie on e-bay several years ago, you bet I bought him.
There about 600 to 800 teddy bears in my home as I speak. There is another stash that fills up an old VW Vanagon in my carport. My wife is know at church as the Teddy Bear Lady. But all that is another story.
And yet another story is a bear named Junior that travels everywhere.
Now I have Scorch, the Beanie Babies dragon, sitting on my desk. At work.
I love dragons.
I sit in a low cubicle. Along the top are:
A stuffed purple Peep bunny.
A Snoopy-type dog with a newspaper in his mouth.
A stuffed yellow traditional Peep.
A jelly bean-pooping reindeer.
A jelly bean-pooping cow.
A genuine voo doo doll, from New Orleans, with a piece of paper pinned to its chest that says "public relations professional. (I hate flacks).
A small plastic cow.
A stuffed black kitty that looks like Ice-T, my cat.
An actual rubber chicken.
And three trolls, one dressed as an Indian, one dressed as a hillbilly and one dressed as a frontiersman.
Oh, and I have a bobble-headed maniacal-looking Col. Sanders, covered in "blod," with a cleavfer in one hand and a hapless chicken in the other -- courtesy of PETA.
Oh, an there is a Whee-Lo on top of my computer monitor.
Oh yeah, there is a near lifesize rooster.
And a small ceremic rooster, minus his comb, wearin' a Confederate battle flag.
And another,smaller rooster stanin' by a red fence with a clock buit in.
I now have two critters on my bed. One is Eeyore my son's best friend got out of one of those claw machines. I told him Eeyore was one of my favorites, and the next thing I know he gave him to me. His mom was surprised I still had him.
The other is Chrismutt. He was Target's Christmas mascot several years ago. DH gave him to me--I'm pretty sure DH got him as a freebie for something--lol. Chrismutt gets to travel with me. I've slept with him for years. He helps keep me from rolling up into too little of a ball and waking up with a back and/or neck ache. Chrismutt was even there when DS was born--my best memory of him. :)
Wait, uh, I had to look it up.
Is there a frequent poster on this blog that actually could answer Three & Eight's post? I mean, not all of us frequent the nation's capital -- especially enough to answer that'n. :-)
Heck, I've only been in the D.C. area twice, and neither time did I get onto Pennsylvania Avenue.
Actually I prefer the Brewery or what ever its name is in the old Post Office Building.
I'm going to look through my pictures to see if Junior Bear has ever been there.
But knowing the 3&8 brought it up ment it was one of her favorites. Now restraunt in D.C. can change overnight, so which one did 3&8 brag on or take me to? So I got down to two names and couldn't remember which was where and when but they were both down by the Hyatt. Bullfeathers or Hawk and Dove. I took Hawk and Dove, but then I cheated. I looked it up to make sure before I showed my...anatomy. So I'll forfit the 10 Redneck points, but what the heck do Redneck points have to do with eating joints in D.C.?
By the way in the late 1980's that location would have been an empty shell of a building. In the early 1970's it most likely would have been an Army surpluse or junk bargin store.
In those days you would have gone down to Blackie's to catch the big boys.
I was there long before Dr. ER ever graced D.C. with her presence. I damn near got stabbed there once, in 1987.
AND, the offer was for ERUDITE points, not Redneck Points. Sheesh. :-)
The post was in July, when you thought I'd quit bloggig or something.
Not that we go around swipin' menus or anything. ;-)
"Drlobojo, it IS the Hawk'n'Dove, but I think it's been in the same place since, what? 1969 or so?"
Maybe so, Maybe I just didn't make it there during my 1966-67 or 69-70 tenures, but the way I remember Penn to M just off the Capitol in the late 60's was as a rough area not to be around at night without friends (lots of friends). That whole area was gutted in the late 60's and early 70's under urban renewal and as part of the rebuild from the MLK riots which were a little farther North.
From your description it wasn't too much better in 1986-7.
What you are too young to know is that whole area was also dug up to build the Metro System starting in 1966. A lot of the Metro in that part of the city was cut and cover construction. Lost a lot of book stores and good bars to the metro construction.
"I was there long before Dr. ER ever graced D.C. with her presence. I damn near got stabbed there once, in 1987.
AND, the offer was for ERUDITE points, not Redneck Points. Sheesh. :-) "
Well Slick I didn't mean to suggest that Dr. ER was more Sophisticated or more Urbane than you. But it was her mentioning of it that created the frame of reference. Shit I don't need no ERUDITE points, I'm erudited out the ass, I'm doing my best to recover from the disease not get more of it. And what are you doing throwing away perfectly good MJ just because you got sold it at knife point, and why weren't you carrying a flip or sling blade yourself in that part of town, or at least a damn sap or nuckles. For a redneck you don't seem to go into a potential combat area too well heeled . Been readin too much of that "golden rule stuff". Remember now the Platinum Rule promulgated by the Neo-Cons is "Do It Quickly Unto Others Before They Even Think About Doing It Unto You."
The rest of that nasty crap was all weeks-old coffee that got cleaned out every couple o months.
True, you mostly had gawdawful coffee cups you had to be reminded to take home, but yeah, I did see at least the one spit cup.
We have been married 38 years and Pinky is still around.
One night I decided to walk back to my apartment, at 8th and G SW (correct, SW), from a joint at Georgetown -- and I hadn't even realized the city was laid out inh quadrants.
Took off about 10 p.m. following street signs. I went to an 8 and G, not SW, and walked boldly past dopers and gangers and hookers and more trouble than I ever could have dreamed up, untouched, although verbally harrassed some.
I think the hand of the Lord hisself, plus the naive audacity of bein' a white boy in cowboy boots, jeans and a jean jacket, just marchin' through the land of trouble, shocked those folks into leavin' me alone.
Old Ebbitt Grill near the White House is a much safer venue, if they'll let you in!!
About the time you were in D.C. and beginning that love affair with your lady, I was bein' born. That's right, I'm 38.
And I thought I was old. :-)
If God has a sense of humor I might have to do 38 more.
Anon said:"Old Ebbitt Grill near the White House is a much safer venue."
Old Ebbitt's Grill has been there since dirt was invented.
Hell, I think when I went there it was call the New Ebbitts grill.
"Wok and Roll
604 H St NW, 202-347-4656
The restaurant that was open for many years at this location, Go Lo's, has been remodelled and reopened under new management but with the same kitchen staff. They have added a sushi counter and a bubble tea stand in order to get with the latest trends in Asian foods that white people like, and the menu has been simplified with all of the flaming hibachi stuff removed. Generally the usual fare, these folks are trying very hard to cater to the Western crowd. They can cook pretty well when specifically asked but will otherwise tend to the usual sweet slop in an attempt to appeal to the white crowd. (Jan 2002)"
The "official" Smithsonian story is below:
Teddy Bear History
"The year 2002 marked the 100th anniversary of the political cartoon that sparked the creation of the Teddy Bear. One of the first produced toy plush bears sold as “Teddy” is part of the Museum’s political history collection and is currently on view in The American Presidency: A Glorious Burden exhibition.
While bear hunting Mississippi and Louisiana in 1902, President Theodore Roosevelt decided it was unsportsmanlike to shoot a bear that had been surrounded by dogs, rendered unconscious and tied to a tree. This event became the subject of an editorial cartoon by Clifford Berryman of the Washington Post who portrayed Roosevelt in a compassionate light, sparing the bear’s life, and thus igniting the teddy bear craze. The cartoon was redrawn and published several times and the image of the bear subsequently changed, becoming smaller and more endearing, finally depicted as a bear cub.
The story of Roosevelt’s unsuccessful bear hunt sparked the imagination of Morris Michtom, who asked his wife Rose to create a toy plush bear to commemorate the event. According to family lore, Michtom said he received personal approval from Roosevelt himself when he asked to use the President’s nickname “Teddy” for the bear. The popularity of the bear led to the highly successful Ideal Novelty and Toy Company in New York, founded by Michtom around 1903.
Benjamin Michton, son of Ideal’s founder, gave the bear to Roosevelt’s grandson Kermit, his wife and their children, in late 1963. The toy was in the family’s possession for just one month before curator Herb Collins accepted it for the museum in January, 1964. The bear dates to 1903 and is in perfect condition."
1. The little brown bear that started it all by being not killed by TR, was killed anyway by his guide.
2. The entire celebration of the 100th birthday of the Teddy Bear was cancelled due to the Alkiada attacts on the U.S..
3.Not only is the real Teddy Bear in the Smithsonian, the hide of the real life bear that inspired the teddy bear is in the Smithsonian.