Take a right at Albuquerque, pump the breaks on Memory Lane and drop in on the Throwback of the Day.
This here teddy bear. Circa 1975.
41 years! I have had this bear for 41 years. And, all things considered, he looks pretty good, despite the apparent nosectomy that was probably performed decades ago.
If he ever had a name, it’s been long forgotten, so for our purposes, today, we’ll call him Ted.
I met Ted on a cobblestone street in England (where my father was stationed with the Air Force), as my brother, E. and I were walking with one of our foster parents (we would end up in three foster homes, in England, due to the abuse from our birth parents, but we would end up back in their home once we returned stateside).
I was 5 (or about to turn 5) and my brother, E. was about 3 years old. We stopped by a street vendor and our fosters bought us each a bear; a yellow one, for me and a brown one, for him. I remember that day so vividly, because directly after we got our new bears, E. began having a terrible tantrum that made our fosters very angry; angry enough for us to be moved to a new foster home, a short time, later.
Ted has been kind of like my security blanket, ever since, and a vivid reminder of my life story. He’s proof of the things that have happened to me, for better or worse. He’s a reminder of how my brothers and I had been fostered, so long, in the England, that when we got back to the States, when I was 7, we had British accents; my parent’s friends thought that we were adopted.
Ted was adopted in England and moved with me to California, Germany, Nebraska and Colorado. He’s seen me through elementary school, middle school, high school, college and starting a family of my own.
I’ve seen many beloved stuffed toys come and go, in my life, but Ted has had staying power; likely, due to his British origins. He’s a souvenir from the past and from a foreign country; not easily tossed in a garage sale box.
Not sure where he’ll end up when my card finally gets punched, but I hope that whomever inherits him will treat him as carefully as I have and maybe take him back to England to see where he was originally adopted.
Long Live, Ted!