Teddy Bear Day is Friday, September 9.
No, I don’t have my childhood teddy bear. I do have a picture of it.
Years ago I discovered a great bear pattern using quilted material. Since then I have made several for children and grandkids. I experienced great satisfaction making bears for people. It was hard to believe that within a box of old clothes or old quilts a bear was waiting to be found and given a home. The bear or bears became an essence of their owners.
I had two old quilts to work with for several sisters. The grandmothers were represented in two quilts and there were more than two people who wanted a piece of the memories. And I made 5 or 6 bears. And I was rewarded with smiles and tears.
There are other stories from other boxes.
One of the last stories involved my dad’s plaid shirts. Some were wool. Some were cotton flannel. They met the scissors. And became 3 bears for 3 of his grandsons. In the pocket of each bear was a playing card because Dad loved to play cards.
There were bears out of mostly new material for grandkids. The youngest granddaughter’s needs a trip to the hospital. Her dad fell asleep on her bear and when she pulled, the leg started to tear. Tears followed. Her bear was made of velvets and corduroy and brocades in all the colors of the rainbow.
My bear I always associated with my paternal grandfather. The bear along with a couple of dolls I believe were gifts from him. Of course the best gift couldn’t be held. It was riding with him in his 1958 blue Plymouth heading to the farm. My feet just stuck out over the edge of passenger seat. Those moments were the essence of pure childhood happiness. I thought I was the luckiest person in the world.