Reading Jadeite's Beary Tales have had me reflecting back on Waldo, one of those large floppy bears like they give away as prizes at carnivals and such, but with a bit longer fur. He arrived in my life when I was 16, a gift from a co-worker who thought it was a mortal sin that I had never owned a teddy bear, not even as a wee babe. More damnation as it was learned that my siblings did, however. This was a gross neglect that needed to be corrected! So for for my birthday, golden haired Waldo arrived perched on my office chair with a birthday balloon tied to a paw, large shiny brown eyes, and a magnificent bow around his neck. I remember being almost afraid that it was a mistake, he was such a magnificent bear - surely not meant for me. I spent most of the morning with a cuddly 3 foot bear in my lap, preparing the morning tills for the attractions at Old Chicago Amusement Park, before donning my costume and makeup as Jokeamo (Yoak-a-moe, meaning laugh more) the clown, and hitting the mall portion of the building.
On that day, Waldo's and my adventures together began. Sixteen was a tumultuous year for me, and Waldo was there to bare witness, just as he was often the only witness to the abuse I suffered at home, his fur often soggied with the tears and cries I tried to muffle, lest my father heard, and because the reason was never good enough, I'd be given a reason to cry. He was there to console me, when the boy I was to marry after graduation, broke my heart. He was my companion that year, when I became a walk away, and lived on the streets, often serving as a pillow for my weary head or riding , squashed in my backpack, with his head poking out, sometimes wearing a plastic bag like a rain bonnet, while I, myself became drenched in pouring rain. He traveled with me along dusty, country roads, and down dark city alleyways.
I was always small for my age, but even being mistaken for 12, folks tend to think you aren't quite right in the head when you're lugging around a bear. Let them think you're crazy, because crazy gets left alone. It can also move folks in strange ways. Once looking for a meal in a dumpster, a busboy saw me. He turned right around and came out with an older woman, his Mama, I think. She didn't speak English, but called me 'Kim', which is about the extent of my Korean and means 'Child.' With motions she made me understand I was to come in and eat. In answer I turned my pockets inside out, showing I had no money. She patted me and shook her head saying, "wassda" which I gathered to mean 'come.' I was shown to a sink and given soap to use, while she made washing motions. The boy tried to speak to me in English, but I only shook my head at him as if mute. I was too afraid to talk. What if they called the cops? I knew my parents weren't looking for me - but I would be taken back to there, and what would my fate then be? I couldn't imagine , but I knew my father would spin his way out of any trouble and I would be made to look like a liar, and to blame. The beatings I had gotten before would look like nothing compared to what ever 'punishment' he devised, that I was sure of.
I was shown to a small table and chairs, and had a moments panic when Mama took Waldo from my pack and turned him around looking him over, and inwardly sighed relief when she sat him in his own chair, next to me.
Mama came with plates, starting with a bowl of soup for me. I had to smile as she placed a small dish holding what looked like a teacake in front of Waldo, and patted him on the head. She then placed her hand over mine, stopping me midway to mouth and said something I couldn't understand. The boy told me it meant to slow down, as my stomach would reject it, if I ate too fast, especially since it had been awhile. She had seen many like me, back home, during the war, I should breathe easy, they would not tell the authorities of me.I was asked to stay, and although tempting as it was to sleep under a roof that wasn't abandoned, I shook my head no. Not so much from fear, but what if they got into trouble for helping me somehow? That would be wrong. Mama looked me deep in the eyes, and gave me the most understanding smile, speaking words I couldn't understand with my ears, but my heart knew they were of comfort. The boy said, she understood, but it would pleasure her greatly if I came back at closing to eat with them. "A simple meal with friends, is better than a feast with Kings."
After the meal Mama gave me a packet of food because it was a long time until supper, and I should not know such hunger again. I safely stowed it in my backpack under Waldo's furry butt. While silently thinking, perhaps if the Fates were kind, I would be back for supper, but when you're a walk away it's hard to make promises of where you'll be the next day.
I won't go into all my street adventures, but Waldo was there for them all: as far west as California, East as Virginia, and South to Texas. Pay phone calls to my Mom now and then, just to check up on her. Learning of her worsening illness, I came back to Illinois, but I never lived nor slept in my father's house again.
Waldo was with me, when I moved in with an old friend to help care for her children. He was with me as a new bride. He was my son's first 'playmate', and my daughter's 'best friend'. Through the years, he had operations to put back escaping stuffing, repair ears, and other bear calamities, but he stood fast, and watched my babies grow. When I had my home child care , he entertained other people's children as well. For a teddy bear he led and extremely active life, never being banished to a box of outgrown toys. In 1993, when my impending divorce forced me into full time work, and I had to shutter the child care, Waldo remained vigilant, seated in a rocker, practically more patches than fur, but obviously very much loved, and still part of the household.
Waldo left us in 2003, extremely threadbare, and not able to sustain one more patching, he succumbed to a harsh case of puppy love. Teddy bears shouldn't be used as chew toys, but then none of us ever dreamt he could be gotten from his lofty perch in the rocker. In a way, it was befitting he'd leave at this time. I was on the move again, this time with my daughter in tow, Josh having left us on his own journey beyond the veil. Perhaps in the great beyond, a golden furred teddy bear follows after a young man on yet more adventures.
Val, what a beautiful beary tale, bitter-sweet and wistful. There's still kindness out there, even in the cruellest of times. When the way ahead seems so dark, you'll somehow find moments to smile or be surprised by joy.
The world would be a warmer, kinder place if everyone had a teddy bear to love and remind them of their inner child. You're never too old to have a teddy bear. I know of at least 2 grandmas in their 70s who collect teddy bears. Not forgetting Fergie, who has a teddy bear too.
About a dozen years ago, T-Rex's brother gave me a 3-foot tall brown bear. He has the grumpiest grimace ever on his face. We call him Big Ben - he now sits and guards the back door to the courtyard.
A few years back, when one of our neighbour's son was about 10, he found out that I collected bears. He asked his mum for permission and then knocked on our door with 2 huge bears almost as tall as him. He said he was too "old" for bears and wanted me to have them. The big white one is called Toddy and the other brown one is Oscar. I've knitted a jumper for Toddy, while the others wear Size 3 t-shirts I bought on special from Target. I'll have to write about their story one of these days.
I like to think that Waldo's keeping Josh company beyond the veil. All that love would have raised a positive energy of its own.
I'm also sure that somewhere out there, there's another bear waiting for you....
Val, I have just gotten around to reading your story. I am trying to type a reply, through a mist of tears. I am crying for you, Josh, and Waldo. That is one of the most touching stories I have read in a long time.
Jadeite, yes, I have a little white teddy bear that I inherited from Angel. Her name is Rosy; Shen named her. Every time, except the last one, Rosy would accompany Angel to the hospital for treatment or operations. Rosy was bought at a hospital gift shop, at Shen's insistence, shortly after Angel's problems started. I think Rosy gave Angel comfort.
I am adding the only pic I have with Rosy in it - me still hugging my bed one winter's morning, and Rosy peeking out from her new home, behind our head-board.
