From the Archives (1996): Bear Redux

To Binky, J.B., Duckie and Caryn: may you always find happiness with your favorite toys.

Special Thanks to Tom, for his patience and forbearance (and for kindly letting me use his computer).

doo-fus (‘dü-fus, -fis) n. (slang) a stupid, incompetent, or foolish person.

“Note that it says person” — Dufus (the Bear)

Home

Hi! My name is Dufus, and in these few pages, I mean to tell you a thing or two about myself. About my life. My home. My friends. My owner. My ambitions. About Caryn.

I’m a stuffed bear, but please, please, don’t call me a Teddy Bear. The very thought of it conjures up images of a tattered, drool-soaked, bear-shaped bag being dragged around by its one remaining ear by a hyperactive 3 year old (and of course, this sorry excuse for a bear has button eyes, and its name is some sort of duo-syllabic gibberish like NaNa or BoBo. Yuck.) While at first glance I’m just a bag of beans, I believe I’m much different than those fellows. And the difference, I think, is personality. To wit, I happen to have one. I laugh, I cry, I love, and (on rare occasions) I loathe. I try and sometimes I fail. I ponder the world around me and wonder what my place in it might be. I cogitate.

I live with my owner Tom in an oh-so-trendy loft condominium in Chicago. My stomping ground is the living room — it’s where I spend all my waking and sleeping hours. This is a pretty good picture of it, though just between you and me, there’s usually a LOT more stuff on the floor. And on the couch. But mainly on the floor.

I share this space with Tom. He’s not around too much, and when he is, he can be found nerd-ling around at his computer. So I’ve really got a lot of freedom.

Duckie’s here too. So’s Ma. And, sorry to say, Gorilla. More on them later (though the less said about that oaf Gorilla, the better). Caryn (sigh) stops by a lot also. On Friday’s Caryn will come by and they’ll go out to a place with a funny -sounding name (Me Castle-Shoe Castle?), and come back silly (I present, as evidence of their silliness, their propensity to talk my ear off upon their return. Humans!). Anymore, there’ll more about Caryn (much more) later.

One of my favorite activities is staring outside the large front window in Tom’s place. Sometimes Tom sets me up on the couch, and I’ll stare out the window for hours, sometimes days. I know the main reason he puts me there is to scare away would-be burglars, but I sure like that vantage point. The view isn’t the greatest, but I love staring outside, watching the world go by, and wondering what it’s like out there (I don’t get out much.). I’ll never forget the day of the Chicago Air Show. The jets were flying by and it was all ZOOM! and WHOOSH! and SOAR! and ZOOOOOOMMMMM!! Those were the happiest moments of my life. Until a bus came by, shook the building, and I dropped on the floor. But it was fun while it lasted.

Thursdays are great too, because it’s train day! Around noon, a locomotive lumbers up Lakewood Ave., carrying fresh corn syrup for the candy factory across the street (I MUST get there sometime!). And then it’s CLANG! CLANG!! HONK!! HONK!! TRAIN NOISE!! TRAIN NOISE!! Way cool. Sometimes Tom is home on Thursdays (working, nudge, nudge) and we watch it together. He get’s so excited. It’s pretty cute.

Family

Mom and Dad. I haven’t seen them since I was bought, of course, but in my mind’s eye I can still recall their every feature. Dad was really something. We were cut from the same cloth, I think. A bulky little bear (I have his belly), he used to tell me, “Dufus my boy, there’s an old saying, `Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.’ This is about taking naps.” Never a day goes by when I don’t heed this practical advice.

Mom. Gosh, I miss her. I remember earlier this year when Tom’s mom died. He was really sad. I tried to tell him that I understood his sorrow, that I’d lost a mom myself, but I couldn’t penetrate his grief. I’m just a stuffed bear, and I couldn’t make him see. Luckily, Caryn came over that night and helped him. Tom is sure fortunate to have her! I think that Tom is feeling better these days, but like me, he still thinks about his mom a lot.

Mom would say, “Dufus, because you’re physically nothing more than cloth and beans, you will never change size. But you will continue to grow and become a better bear. Someday you’ll see.” Now I think I do. It comes from watching the world around me, taking things in, and trying to make sense of them. It comes from being a good companion for Tom, regardless of whether he’s happy or sad. It comes from feeling sad when Caryn leaves on Sunday and missing her, but understanding that I should treasure the moments she was here and knowing that she won’t be gone forever. It comes from being my own bear when I have to be, even when it’s easier not to be. Maybe a lot of these things apply to humans also, but I can’t really say. I’m just a bear.

Friends

Binky and J.B. are the best friends that any bear could want. Period. Paws down. It’s funny — I don’t see them very often, but when I do, it’s as if we were never apart. We laugh so much my beans shake, and the warm feeling lasts for months.

The two are really quite different, but I love them both. Of the two, J.B. is the reputed party animal, but he’s really just a naive bear who likes to have fun. Binky’s got the innocent name and the cute face, but she’s the diabolical mastermind behind all their schemes (I can picture you shaking your head incredulously, but it’s true!). If fact, Binky likes to take advantage of J.B.’s easy-going tendencies. J.B. will often go along with one of Binky’s suggestions simply for the fun of it, without realizing what mischief is being made until it’s too late. Witness the chocolate pudding incident…but, I swore I’d never tell what happened, and I won’t. It’s just a good thing that Caryn was gone that weekend.

Binky and J.B. live with Caryn, and she treats them like royalty. Most nights, they even get to sleep in a real bed! With Caryn! I have to admit that sometimes I’m quite jealous. Being tucked in by Caryn every night after several hours of deep and meaningful conversation (and she knows just what to say to a bear, believe me). And when Caryn’s not there, they have each other.

Taking everything into account though, I count my blessings. Binky and J.B. may have a life of ease and comfort, but they rarely leave the bedroom. I’ve got my splendid view. And when Tom is at Caryn’s, I’ve heard they’re relegated to the floor to make room. The couch may not be the best, but it’s always there for me. Besides, I know that my place is here with Tom. And, I’ve got Duckie.

Duckie’s a bit quiet, but he’s a really good friend. Did I say a BIT quiet? He makes Tom seem like a chatterbox. If he said a word it’d be a filibuster. Unlike most rubber ducks, you never hear so much as a squeak out of him. “Duckie,” I say, “How’s it going today?” Nothing. “Duckie,” I say, “rotten weather, what?” Nothing. “Duckie,” I say, “that was some big bus drove by.” Silence. “Duckie,” I say, “If you disapprove of me, just say so.” And he never does. I like him. In fact, I think it’s his steadying influence, his unvarying approach to life, that keeps me sane.

Until Tom cast him in his first movie, Duckie spent a lot a time in the bathroom. Now, I’ve never been in Tom’s bathroom, but what I’ve heard makes me glad that I don’t have bodily functions. Duckie’s movie was really great (despite the presence of a certain banana-chomping simian). The range of emotions he portrayed just blew me away. He could say more with a single wiggle than Shakespeare could convey in an entire Act. Incredible!

The only thing that disturbs me about Duckie is his friendship with that missing link, that would-be primate, Gorilla. I thought it was due to propinquity, and would fade at the end of the movie shoot, but so far it hasn’t. Still, there’s no accounting for taste, and by now I’ve learned that you can’t tell your friends who their friends should be. Unless you don’t want them to be your friend anymore.

Binky starred in a movie too. That was an exciting time. It was shot in Tom’s living room, so I got to spend a lot of time with Binky, despite the rigorous shooting schedule. I even had a cameo appearance, peeking out from behind Tom’s couch. The plot of the movie is far too complex to explain in the limited space that I’ve got available, but I hope I don’t sound too immodest when I say that my little peek from behind the couch was a pivotal scene. Coming on the heels of Binky’s “jumping up and down” scene, it served as a dramatic counterpoint to Binky’s entire journey through the living room. Anyway, if you haven’t seen this little gem, please do so. You won’t be disappointed. Two paws up!

A more recent addition to our household is Ma. She arrived last June, and at first she was hard to take, because she was constantly going on and on about her vacation in Yosemite with Tom and Caryn. I know it doesn’t cast me in a good light, but a lot of my animosity was due to envy. I couldn’t see why Tom and Caryn would prefer this little plaything to me. Then I found out, while watching TV, that she was just a McDonald’s Happy Meal (TM) toy, and the whole scenario became clear — she was simply picked up at a fast food place and taken along for the ride. During one of our early fights, I came this close to belittling her for this, but then I looked in her eyes, and I could see that she had no idea of her humble origins. And that it would destroy her if she knew. So I held my tongue, and we’ve been friends ever since. I guess that was one of those days when I became a better bear.

Caryn

Caryn bought me. Is that the reason I feel this way about her? If so, does her oven feel this way? Her couch? Her toothbrush? Or is it that she’s such a paragon of kindness and delight that one can’t help but love her.

Maybe it’s because whenever she come’s over, the first thing she does is look for me, Dufus. She says “Hi Dufus!” and the words are like a grand and glorious symphony. She props me up when I’m hunched over and it feels like a miracle. She uncovers me from scattered newspapers, and I rejoice at the sublime sparkle in her eyes. She talks to me and I hang on every word. She studies me and I feel like a great work of art. She pokes my belly and we laugh.

Ever since she laid eyes on me in the mall I felt the magic between us. I knew she’d pick me, and when she did, I felt like the greatest bear that ever lived. Better than Winnie. Better than Yogi. Better than Smokey. A giant among bears.

Sometimes I wish Caryn were a bear, or that I were human, but I know that will never be. Anyway, what we have transcends ordinary relationships, and I know it will last forever.

Tom

Tom’s my owner, and he’s a pretty good fellow, all things considered. Over the last year I’ve grown to love him too. Different than the way I love Caryn, of course, but it’s love just the same. The main thing is that he really needs me, and that’s been more than enough to give my life meaning and purpose. I wonder sometimes what he’d do without me. He’d get by I suppose, but his life sure wouldn’t be as fun. And I never thought I’d say it, but the same goes for me. What would I do without Tom? I guess I’m the kind of bear who needs someone to care for, and Tom fulfills that need.

Not that our relationship is perfect, mind you. One thing that irks me about Tom is that he’s a bit of a slob, and unfortunately I’m more of the Felix Unger type. I’ve spent days at a time buried under newspapers on my couch. While this isn’t a bad spot for taking naps, I get bored with it eventually and long to be free.

Tom spends a lot of time at his computer, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as it allows me time to catch up on my reading (there are a lot of books here) and play with Duckie. Once in a while, Tom pulls out a tiny camera, and more often than not, it’s yours truly whose picture gets taken. One day, Tom made a computer game based on his pictures of me. It’s called the Dufus Game, and it’s pretty cool. If you get the chance, you should check it out. Sure, it’s a bit simplistic, but the pictures are awesome, if I do say so myself. Duckie even makes an appearance, and happily, there’s no trace of that black furball whose name I won’t mention as I’m a gentlebear.

Tom and I really have a lot of fun together. The good times are really too numerous to mention. Sometimes when I’m with him, I almost feel animate, and that’s an exciting and a wonderful feeling.

Anything seems possible. Now and then Tom and I like to play horsey. Ride em, Cowbear!! Yee haaaaa!!!

Of course, we have our quieter times too. Tom will sit down on the couch, and we’ll just talk. Man to bear. Unlike me, however, Tom’s very guarded. I don’t always know what he’s thinking, and often I have to work pretty hard to draw him out. Sometimes he’ll come home after a long day at work, and he’ll just sit on the couch strumming sad songs on his guitar. I can feel his melancholy, so old Dufus goes to work. First, I’ll start dancing a bit to cheer him up a little (Take it from me, my dancing would bring a smile to the surliest grouch!). Then, in my inimitable round-about way, I steer him to the heart of his problem.

I begin. “Rotten weather, what?”

“Ummmhmmmm.”

“Tough drive home?”

“Ummmhmmmm.”

“Poignant tune there.”

“Ummmhmmmm.”

“Lachrymose little ditty.”

“Ummmhmmmm… Dufus?”

“Yes Tom”

“I’ve had a rough week. Not today, okay?”

“Ok Tom.”

I continue. “Tom?”

“Yes Dufus.”

“WOULD YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG INSTEAD OF SITTING THERE MOPING LIKE A THREE-YEAR OLD ALREADY??!!!!!!”

And then it comes pouring out. The boring job. The long drive. The seeming drudgery of life. The Thanksgiving away from home. The endless vicissitudes of day-to-day living. And the pain is somehow less severe because it’s shared between two. And so the bear serves the man, and the man the bear.

Mondays

On Mondays, something strange happens. Tom leaves in the morning, but doesn’t come back at night, and I have no idea where he goes or what he does. At first, this was terribly worrisome — I’d fret that something awful had happened and that he’d never be coming back. But invariably, he’d saunter in Tuesday night as if nothing were wrong, as if being gone for forty hours were as natural as, well, talking to a stuffed bear. His absence is still a complete mystery, but I’ve gotten used to it now, and I’ve found that Monday nights are a perfect night to enjoy having the place to myself. I watch my sitcoms, and even stay up late for the talk shows. I do have one complaint though — on Monday morning Tom shuts off the heat, and it can get awfully cold by Tuesday. It’s a good thing I have plenty of fur.

Monday is also a good time to hone my skills on Tom’s computer. In fact, I began this memoir as a way to improve my typing proficiency, and so most of it was done on a Monday. Unless you’re a bear you’ve probably never thought about this, but typing with paws is EXTREMELY difficult. Thank god the backspace key is relatively large. I almost think I spend more time going backwards then forwards. I feel this way about life sometimes, and so I think back to my typing and realize that progress IS being made.

Monday also has a certain sadness. Blue Monday, it’s called, and I certainly understand why. Monday comes on the heels of a full and exciting weekend. Not only is Tom around most of the time, but Caryn spends a lot of time here too. Then Monday rolls around, and suddenly there’s a great emptiness. It’s as if a dark cloud has passed overhead, and I wonder, why can’t the good times just go on and on? Why does the good have to be balanced by the bad? Is it true that we can’t have happy without some sad? Full without empty? These are the things that a bear considers on a cold, silent, Monday, when his owner is away.

End

And so my story ends. Thank you for staying with me this long. If I’ve told my story well, you now have some insight into the ups and downs and ins and outs of a bear’s life. And if I’ve truly succeeded, you now realize that my life, even with it’s limited opportunities, is no different from yours. I cavort with friends. I laugh. I love. I serve and am served in turn. I am not a stranger to sorrow, pain, and longing. I’ve come to realize that life is all of these things, and to remove just one would upset a delicate and precious balance.

Binky and J.B. Duckie. Tom. Caryn. These are my heroes, and I know that a special part of me has helped make them so. A lone bear is nothing, but then a life is formed from an alchemy of friends. An assembly of cloth and beans is chosen by one from many, and so becomes real. Thank you, Caryn.

I gave a printed version of this to my girlfriend (now my wife) on Christmas, 1996.