Clever Magazine, Vol. V, #5 "Teddy Bear Story " (www.clevermag.com)

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Barumplesby Bear

by Art Hambach

A story for the little ones at Christmas!

Some people think teddy bears don’t have memories and that makes me sad because it means you’ll miss all the wonder and magic of Christmas.

But I can remember a family of toys that were together way back in 1939 in a small store window on Central Avenue in Jersey City. Oh! We were a happy family because we knew we were the very heart of Christmas, for it was our destiny to make some small child happy, and what could be more Christmas than that?

The window was decorated with a beautiful red and gold Christmas tree with a set of American Flyer electric train running on tracks around it. In the lower right-hand corner of the window there was Marcel, the Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman with his red tunic, black jodhpurs, shiny black boots and broad brim hat, who told the most wonderful stories about the Canadian west .

Most people don’t know that toys continually talk to each other, but they do. Humans can’t hear them because they’re on a different wavelength. On a shelf in the upper left-hand corner was lovely Angela whose blonde hair, pretty face and filmy wings were set off by an exquisite white gown. She carried a harp to support the Christmas songs that she often entertained us with. She was a true believer in the wonder of Christmas.

Harley Dogg, my closest friend, sat half way back in the window just to the left of the tree. He was all gold except for his long red tongue and black, rhinestone collar. Whenever a child would squeeze his paw, his tail would wag and he would bark. He was such a good-hearted fellow. Often he would just sit and daydream about bringing a little child some happiness.

In the upper right-hand corner stood Princess Marianna, who was regal, to say the least. Tall and slender, with long black hair; she wore a stylish dress of gold and silver brocade. The princess was the wisest of all the toys. She had knowledge that was almost mystical but never was she proven wrong except once, and that's the story I want to tell you.

But first, before I forget, I sat halfway back to the right of the tree which was a wonderful spot to watch all the people go by on Central Avenue. Not all toys get to see their child before Christmas day, but if they do, they know him or her right away.

One day Harley, Angela and I were listening to one of Marcel’s stories about the wolves that live in the Canadian Rocky's, when I gazed out the store window and there he was -- Michael, my child. We knew each other immediately and he stood staring at me, enjoying my red vest over my light brown fur and my green alpine cap with a purple feather rising from its top. I was just ecstatic to see him. He was obviously a good boy who would appreciate a guy like me.

I began telling everyone, "there’s my boy, there’s my boy," and the whole
family was glad for me, but Princess Marianna sounded a warning.

“The boys family is very poor," she informed us. His father is a writer who works as a waiter because his stories don’t seem to sell. He doesn’t make much money as a waiter, only tips, and times are so hard with the Depression that very few people go to restaurants. The boy’s family lives in the apartment house right around the corner where the husband and his wife are the janitors. That way they get the apartment rent free. Michael’s parents have been talking lately about how hard times are, and whether they will have any money to spend on Christmas. So Barumplesby, maybe you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high.”

“But that’s my boy!” I insisted.

“Perhaps not,” the Princess replied.

Then Angela spoke. “Have faith my good bear. Christmas is a wonderful time and all sorts of miracles happen.”

The days went by and one by one the toys left to be with their children. On one hand, I hated to see them go, especially Harley, but then I thought of the joy they would be bringing to the little ones and, after all, that’s what being a toy is all about. But, I did not go. Eventually, I was alone in the window with the Christmas tree and electric trains, experiencing a sadness that was deeper than I could ever believe was possible.

Angela’s miracle happened on December 23rd. I have heard this story told so many times. Michael's Mother and father were sitting at the kitchen table.

“How much money do we have then, Dorothy?” Michael’s father asked?

“Three dollars and forty-seven cents, Adam,” the mother responded.

“We’ll need that to eat with. I might make another dollar in tips tomorrow, but the restaurant will be closed on Christmas day. It’s so
sad. We just don’t have any money to buy Michael a present.”

“I’ll go check the mail,” the mother said. “Maybe Aunt Louise has sent
five dollars. She did once in the past.”

So, she went out to the lobby and picked up the mail. There was no card from Aunt Louise. Just a few cards from friends and family who were no better off than they, and a rejection slip from a magazine. She took the mail back into the apartment and handed her husband the rejection slip.

“He opened it up to see which story bounced and said, “Oh my!”

“What’s the matter, Adam?” his wife asked.

“This isn’t a rejection slip, Dorothy, I won the writing contest! There’s a check for two hundred dollars.”

So I became Michael’s bear and I stayed Michael’s bear until he had a
son of his own, and then I became Daniel’s bear. Daniel now has his own
son who he named after his father, so once again I am Michael’s bear. I
have been so happy. I have been so blessed.”