The other morning at the airport in Nashville there was a team of female college athletes getting on the plane to Baltimore with me. Most of the girls carried a favorite stuffed animal with them. One sitting near me had an Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.
I asked her, “Is that Eeyore?” She replied, “Yes, I’ve had it since kindergarten.” That reminded me of my own Eeyore. I told her, “My Grandmother made me a stuffed Eeyore when I was a kid.”
When I was about 6 or 7 years old, my Grandmother Erickson made all her younger grandkids a Pooh character stuffed animal. I got Eeyore.
I kept my Eeyore and he moved with me everywhere I moved until I was about 20 years old. That’s when something happened.
In the mid-1980s, I went a few months without a job. I had let a friend stay with me when he was out of work, so he returned the favor. I lived with him and his two roommates for a couple of months. Little did I know, one of his roommates was a bully.
One day I came into my room to find some of my personal items missing. When I asked about it, Mike-the-bully, told me to look out of my window. There was Eeyore, and a homemade pillow, out in the parking lot. They were both soaking wet from the rain. This was in the Seattle region.
Mike-the-bully provoked me and made fun of me for holding onto the items of my childhood. He claimed he was helping me to grow up. I am little ashamed of what I did next.
Nothing.
I just left Eeyore out there in the rain. I was too proud to go out and get him. I wish I would have. As for Mike-the-bully, he wound up committing murder about 10 years later.
I hope the girl on the plane holds onto her Eeyore forever.
Let’s stay in touch. – dse