A Very Young Bear

I've begun the long process of sifting through the contents of our house, sorting and boxing and jettisoning, ahead of our eventual move. On the back of a shelf in the living room, I came upon my hard copy of Ramblings and Ravings and after breaking from my chore long enough to read it cover to cover, decided to add the first new posting in over three years.

There was a bear at Grandma and Grandpa's house. He was a stuffed bear that grandma had picked up along the way somewhere in their travels. He was light brown and lanky with long, articulated limbs and a stoic, slightly melancholy look perpetually on his face. His butt was full of beans. His name was Bear, a name that was either creative or lazy or ironic, and I'm pretty sure I know who it was that gave him the simple moniker. He had become something of a mascot of the two, appearing most notably in a little book that Grandma had pieced together. It featured snapshots of bear getting into all sorts of anthropomorphic hijinks around the house and dialogue of bear begging to be included on their next trip.

Growing up, going to Grandma and Grandpa's often included a lot of tradition, whether for Easter brunch or a Tuesday afternoon mac and cheese fix. I'm not sure if it was a tradition or just a game that we'd play with Grandma and Grandpa, but it was something that I loved and looked forward to at every visit: ergo, a tradition. Before leaving, one of us would steal away and find bear, help him into a compromising position and leave him for our grandparents to find. They'd find him parked in Grandpa's chair with his jar of peanuts, salt shaker and the TV remote. Or he'd be at Grandma's desk, checkbook and pen in hand. It was silly and simple, but it had the humor and creativity that made it decidedly Ruszel.

When I got to the end of the book I came upon three sheets of paper that I'd tucked in the back. It's a letter from my Grandpa to me. It's on Ruszel Woodworks stationary, dated 'Tuesday, 22 August 1995', and written in his own hand. His handwriting has the loops and curls of Walt Disney's, yet the sloppiness I find in my own penmanship. It has masking tape and pin holes at the corner of each page, a result of having been on display in my bedroom growing up. He writes:

Dear Tom,
I am concerned about bear. I realize that he is still a very young bear, but he thinks that he can do most anything. As an example, after you & your dad went sailing on Sunday, Grandma & I found bear with his back paws in my slippers. Grandma & I figured that since the slippers were to large for him to wear as shoes, he must have thought that he could use them as kayaks, imitating what you were doing on the water. Our fear is that he would have snuck out and tried to go kayaking. He could have drowned because he didn't realize that the slippers have big holes in the soles.

Several weeks ago, we found him with his paw inside our coin jug — he probably thought he could go to the store & buy candy or something. You see, he doesn't know that Safeway or even Baskin-Robbins won't serve bears.

So I'm asking if you wouldn't please talk to bear (you must be kind to him as he is a very gentle bear) and tell him that he can't do a lot of things that human children do. He seems to understand children more than adults, That's why I am asking you, Tom.

Thanks

Grandpa

P.S. Bear really has fun when all you kids come over. Maybe that is when he gets a lot of his ideas!!
Grandpa

Somehow, the eleven your old me know that this letter was a gem. I knew that it was a window into my grandfather's character and into our relationship. Somehow, the eleven year old me knew that the twenty-eight year old me would appreciate having it. It hung prominently on my bedroom until we moved and it found its way into a footlocker containing my personal memorabilia. When I got rid of most of the Animal House posters and concert ticket stubs, the really important artifacts like this rose to the top and found their way to new places of safekeeping. The next time this letter finds its way to a spot hanging on the wall, it'll be framed behind glass.

As I sit here and type, my son Liam is playing on the living room floor. I'm sad that he and his great grandfather never got to meet, but I'm heartened to know that his family has enough great stories and memories to allow Liam to know him in some way. He had so much to offer to us kids, spanning the spectrum from goofy to wise to intellectual. Sometimes I don't realize that so many of the lessons, knowledge, values that effect my daily life came directly from him. They've just always been there.

Some of these things came from Grandpa via my Dad, and I know that without my consciousness, they are making their way to Liam. That thought makes me happy.