This is a picture of my teddy bear, Benjamin.
Its His name is nothing shorter or abbreviated.
You’re saying/thinking something right now, and it could be a combination of one or even all of these:
- You’re 30 years old.
- What are you trying to prove?
- That will get you laid.
- That will not get you laid.
- Your childhood called, it would like its memories back.
While thinking of topics to write about for my very own Throwback Week, one idea was right in front of my eyes and on my night stand.
- It’s on your night stand?
- That will not get you laid.
The bear roams around the room, and that stirs up the aura. It’s like the Superman in Seinfeld. It’s never in the same place consecutive episodes, it’s not always a figurine or a magnet, but it’s always there. I like Seinfeld, and I also like to pretend that I am keeping myself guessing.
Stop swinging from that light, Benjamin!
The store where I first spotted Benjamin: I cannot remember its name; it had Rainforest in the name from what I remember. What stood out was that he was my type of bear. He is dressed to the nines with his bow tie, plaid shirt, and overalls. He’s a handsome son-of-a-gun! There is no describing the elation displayed that one Christmas morning when he came into my possession. I took him on every trip. He had two friends as well: Fuzzy, a koala, and Willie, a wombat. Poor Willie fell out of the car one day, and the location probably was Binghamton, New York. We didn’t notice his missing until after we were on the road. He will be forever missed, but never forgotten.
Some brat kid probably picked him up and gave him a shitty home life, but we’re not going to dwell on this. All of our stuffed animals were kept in pristine condition. We–my brother and I–treated the inanimate animals as pets, because we could never have one. My brother was born with this condition called allergies.
Yes, there was a whole Australian theme going on in the Malone household. My brother was the Koala King, displaying his obsession with the marsupial on a regular basis. He owned a plethora of koala stuffed animals. We even went to see the koala, which came to the Buffalo zoo years ago. The zoo served Kiwi-Strawberry Snapple for the occasion. The cheese factor was high, but it’s great marketing.
Having a stuffed animal, in my opinion is better than an invisible friend. Don’t get me wrong, an invisible friend isn’t a terrible thing, but a stuffed animal is tangible. From experience, we all know that this invisible friend:
- Is only seen by the child.
- May, in fact, be an apparition.
- May be a demon.
- May be an angel.
- Nothing good can come from any-one/thing invisible
Next thing you know, your kid’s eyes are rolling back into their sockets and howling the sound of a squeaky door.
Getting back on topic, Calvin and Hobbes was the quintessential comic of my childhood. I never brought Benjamin outside to play, however. I did wish he came alive.
But that’s the power of imagination. He fought monsters and eased nightmares. What else can I ask for, especially since I never asked to begin with?
What was your favorite stuffed animal?
I play with words and invisible objects.
A mind, a pen and a piece paper have the best relationship ever.
"Remember this--if you shut your mouth, you have your choice."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald