never grow up, never surrender.
Jan. 24th, 2011 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themegalooSo, it's a well known fact that a- I don't update enough and b- I never see movies in a timely fashion. Okay, that's two facts. I finally saw Toy Story 3 tonight, mom got it on Netflix. Upon announcing to twitter that I was about to watch it, Anez tells me to get BOXES AND FACTORIES OF TISSUES, which I laughed it, because let's face it, it was funny. My dad went and got me a roll of toilet paper AND A TRASH CAN, Jessi agreed with Anez, and my mom is just sitting over on the couch being all knowing and "you WILL cry." I really should have known better.
My reaction, other than sobbing my fucking EYES out, as was apparently anticipated by anyone who had seen it, was to go to my room afterwards, go to my bed, and then proceed to walk around like this:
Actually, I'm still sitting like that, typing this entry. Only less with my face on his head because it's hard to see the screen like that. (except periodically WHEN I HAVE TO HUG HIM)
That, flist, is my oldest and most treasured toy from childhood. His name is Grandpa Bear and he has a story. Probably more importantly, he still lives on my bed, though many other stuffed animals have come & gone. (seriously, you cannot even understand how many stuffed animals I have owned, it's sort of scary) From the time that Grandpa Bear came into my possession, he has never lived in a toy box, though he didn't tend to travel overseas with me. I felt bad squishing him into my suitcase because he really wasn't a good size for it at all, I never had enough space. When I was little, I couldn't sleep without him. I still can't sleep without a stuffed animal of SOME kind in my arms, and I think that goes back to Grandpa Bear. I remember one time when he'd been left in the playroom & I couldn't find him crying until I had him in my arms so I could sleep again. I remember accidentally leaving him at home on a trip once and being bereft all night, unable to sleep. I love this teddy bear. So after that movie? Yeah, I had to go grab him (no finding required!) and hug him tightly.
This is Grandpa Bear's story:
His name is because of his origins. I never met my great-grandfather, he died when I was very young. He was in the hospital just after I was born and had seen a teddy bear in a store and he told my great-grandmother that he liked it. She bought it for him, but, as the story goes, he told her that he didn't have a use for a bear and to give it to me. Now, my family didn't live very close to them at all, and the first time I actually went up there to see my great-grandmother, he was long gone. She had this fantastic basement with a laundry hamper of old toys and I had the time of my life playing with them. I don't really know how old I was, maybe 3 or 4 (I know my youngest sister wasn't born yet, and I don't remember if the middle sister was or not, if so, she was an infant) but I still have vague memories of that visit. Most of this, however, is the story as my parents have told it to me.
I found Grandpa Bear among the other toys, my great-grandmother hadn't been able to bring herself to mail him to me, she'd kept him. But from the first day I found him, I adored him. I was devastated to have leave him behind in the way that all small children are when they're losing their new favorite toy, but it didn't last for long. She told me that "he was always meant to be yours" and I had a stuffed friend for life. He went home with me, but I made sure to bring him back again the next time we visited, so that she could say hello. (I'm pretty sure I had him write a letter too, but that could just be my overactive imagination.)
We've had some adventures, me and Grandpa Bear. And we're still going to have a lot more. And even if he doesn't go EVERYWHERE with me anymore, he'll always be at whatever place I'm calling home. Because if my teddy bear is not there? It's not really home.
My reaction, other than sobbing my fucking EYES out, as was apparently anticipated by anyone who had seen it, was to go to my room afterwards, go to my bed, and then proceed to walk around like this:
Actually, I'm still sitting like that, typing this entry. Only less with my face on his head because it's hard to see the screen like that. (except periodically WHEN I HAVE TO HUG HIM)
That, flist, is my oldest and most treasured toy from childhood. His name is Grandpa Bear and he has a story. Probably more importantly, he still lives on my bed, though many other stuffed animals have come & gone. (seriously, you cannot even understand how many stuffed animals I have owned, it's sort of scary) From the time that Grandpa Bear came into my possession, he has never lived in a toy box, though he didn't tend to travel overseas with me. I felt bad squishing him into my suitcase because he really wasn't a good size for it at all, I never had enough space. When I was little, I couldn't sleep without him. I still can't sleep without a stuffed animal of SOME kind in my arms, and I think that goes back to Grandpa Bear. I remember one time when he'd been left in the playroom & I couldn't find him crying until I had him in my arms so I could sleep again. I remember accidentally leaving him at home on a trip once and being bereft all night, unable to sleep. I love this teddy bear. So after that movie? Yeah, I had to go grab him (no finding required!) and hug him tightly.
This is Grandpa Bear's story:
His name is because of his origins. I never met my great-grandfather, he died when I was very young. He was in the hospital just after I was born and had seen a teddy bear in a store and he told my great-grandmother that he liked it. She bought it for him, but, as the story goes, he told her that he didn't have a use for a bear and to give it to me. Now, my family didn't live very close to them at all, and the first time I actually went up there to see my great-grandmother, he was long gone. She had this fantastic basement with a laundry hamper of old toys and I had the time of my life playing with them. I don't really know how old I was, maybe 3 or 4 (I know my youngest sister wasn't born yet, and I don't remember if the middle sister was or not, if so, she was an infant) but I still have vague memories of that visit. Most of this, however, is the story as my parents have told it to me.
I found Grandpa Bear among the other toys, my great-grandmother hadn't been able to bring herself to mail him to me, she'd kept him. But from the first day I found him, I adored him. I was devastated to have leave him behind in the way that all small children are when they're losing their new favorite toy, but it didn't last for long. She told me that "he was always meant to be yours" and I had a stuffed friend for life. He went home with me, but I made sure to bring him back again the next time we visited, so that she could say hello. (I'm pretty sure I had him write a letter too, but that could just be my overactive imagination.)
We've had some adventures, me and Grandpa Bear. And we're still going to have a lot more. And even if he doesn't go EVERYWHERE with me anymore, he'll always be at whatever place I'm calling home. Because if my teddy bear is not there? It's not really home.
