This is the baby hat I knit for Zack. See the "Z". Doesn't my Ted make the handsomest model ever? I think the cap looks like a batter's helmet on him.
When I was 15 months old, I told my Gramma that the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a black teddy bear -- not a brown bear, not a panda bear, a
Black bear. She searched the entire Detroit metro area and finally found one. I loved my Gramma and I love my Ted Bear. When I was a kid, one of my favorite books was
The Velveteen Rabbit because Ted Bear had been loved into "real" and every kid in the neighborhood knew it. (You too can probably tell by how smooshed and worn from kisses his nose is.)
I have my Gramma's good sterling flatware and a lovely eggshell thin porcelain sugar and creamer set, which are both very fine, but not a patch on my Ted. You can't cuddle cutlery.
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Hmm... Today's blog entry didn't go where I thought it would. I was going to make a snotty remark about saccharine subjects, but then I thought about my Gramma. She died before I turned five and I missed her horribly. I was totally disconsolate until my Aunt Mary, her oldest daughter, assured me that we could send her oranges in heaven.
Sometimes I wonder if the reason she shines so perfect in my memory is because she died before I was old enough to see her feet of clay. They say that everybody has them. But I don't think that she did. She was perfect.
