Picture a teddy bear, worn out by the years, sitting forlornly on a shelf in a room whose other decorations have far surpassed it in both use and fashion. The teddy bear’s purple color is faded and some rice is spilling out of the seams, but overall, it is in fairly good condition. Its button eyes are gazing sadly at the teenager lying on the bed nearby, as if remembering the days when it was loved and cared for almost obsessively. My favorite object is such a teddy bear. I received it one year from my brother who got it at a party along with some bright orange shoe laces. I’m not exactly sure why I became so attached to the bear, but for a long time he was practically an extension of my arm. I took ‘Jerry’ everywhere, I slept with it, and I would set it on the table while I ate.
Jerry is a Beanie Bear yet I never thought of him as one. He was always a member of my family, my best friend, the one who I told everything my young mind could think of to. I loved “his” bright purple color and the 44 sewed in gold thread to the front beside his name. His last name, West, is stitched on the back in larger letters by a larger 44. Jerry isn’t very big-about the size of a kitten-which was just perfect for the arms of a 5 year old. He is very cute and cuddly, with his small round ears and fuzzy fur. At nights I would hold him close as my eyes sought kidnappers and evil-doers in the shadows. Whenever I would get a cut or bruise Jerry would be there to silently take in my tears, and in return, give me comfort when no one else could seem to do so.
Jerry would be the honored member of mine and my friend’s tea parties under the hot sun. We would sit under a tree eating crumbly cookies made by loving mothers feeding lemonade and morsels of chocolate chips to embroidered mouths of stuffed animal friends. Chirping birds and barking dogs would be our background music. Those were the good days.
Another reason Jerry is so worn out is he travels with me everywhere (even now). He, truly, has seen the world. Jerry has been to Mexico, New York, California, and Florida. I’m not exactly sure why he still accompanies me on such voyages, though I believe it is partially because if I die while on vacation, or become stranded, I will want to have been with my favorite object.
Finally, I will tell you the history behind his name. I did not come up with it; it was merely sewn onto his torso when he was handed to me from my brother whom I doted on so much. Jerry West is the name of a famous basketball player of the L.A. Lakers (which is who he was technically named after), but it is also the name of the author of the Happy Hollisters’ series, an old children’s mystery series. I like to think that he was named after this author, because I love his books. My mom read them as a child and passed them on to me, who devoured them. So basically, that is who he was named after.
After stating all these reasons I hope you can see how much Jerry-the teddy bear-means to me. As I reflect on my memories of times with him, I smile with love as I remember these happy days in the sun, just me and a purple teddy bear.