Copyright 2008, Susan DeLay
Anytime someone reaches the half-century mark, it’s a pretty big deal. Maturity has set in (for most) along with knees that snap, crackle, and pop. Retirement is not something that’s way out there in the future; it’s just around the corner. Not only do 50-year-olds need reading glasses, they also need good light—at least if they’re going to be able to read the tiny print (that seems to get tinier all the time)..
Guess who is turning 50? Paddington Bear. Born on October 13, 1958, the gracious bear from deepest, darkest Peru, arrived in Paddington Station in central London, with a beat-up suitcase, a bush hat, marmalade sandwiches, and a sign pinned to his duffle coat that read: "Please look after this bear. Thank you.” I think it’s nice when the abandoner is polite.
Discovered by the Brown family, Paddington was a stowaway sent to London on a lifeboat by his Aunt Lucy. So, Paddington was not only abandoned—he was put on a slow boat to England. Although stowing away on a lifeboat seems improbable. Where would one hide? A luxury liner maybe, but a lifeboat? And one that came all the way from Peru to England? Okay. It’s fiction, so I guess anything can happen.
Paddington Bear’s Aunt Lucy was preparing to enter a retirement home for bears. So she sent her little nephew away. Far, far away. Over 6300 miles. Bolivia would have been closer, and Paddington could have returned home for Christmas, so I can only assume Lucy never wanted to see her nephew again. On the bright side, had Paddington stayed in Peru, he never would have developed his charming British accent.
Since no one could understand his Peruvian name, the Browns named him Paddington because he was found in that particular railway station. Naming someone after the depot in which he is found displays a frightening lack of creativity. If they’d discovered him in London’s Tube, they might have called him Tuber . Or perhaps Mr. Potato Head.
The Browns took the little lost bear to their home at 32 Windsor gardens near Nottinghill. And that’s how Paddington began the adventures (and misadventures) that have captivated kids for 50 years. He started out as the central character in books and, cottage industries being what they are, he eventually became a soft, cuddly toy—complete with hat and coat, and accessories to match every imaginable occasion.
I never had a Paddington Bear, but I definitely had a Teddy Bear. My parents brought bears home for my sister and me after a trip they’d made to Cincinnati and I’ve had mine ever since. (And I didn’t name him Cincinnati.)
He’s half blind because our Cocker Spaniel chewed off one of his button eyes. Today, the FDA, the FTC, and the CSPC would never allow a child to own a toy with button eyes because=2 0it could cause choking. And the ASPCA wouldn’t be too happy either. A dog choking on a bear’s eye is clearly cruelty to animals. But that was in the day before we worried about such things as buttons on bears and the Heimlich maneuver.
I mostly remember how much I loved that bear. He’s still around, but now he wiles away his days on a shelf instead of listening to all my dreams for the future, the fears that gave me bad dreams, my longings to see the neighborhood bully get caught red-handed in a flagrant act of bullying, and ways I would celebrate when that happened.
My Teddy Bear’s fur has been loved off with a lifetime of hugs, his eyes have dropped out, and he’s very shabby. But, like the Velveteen Rabbit, that only makes him real.
Real bears rarely live past the age of 10. Some can live to the ripe old age of 30—as they’re not hunted down and turned into bearskin rugs. For a bear to reach 50 is quite a feat. Had Aunt Lucy not sent Paddington packing from darkest Peru, who knows what would have happened?
Life in jolly olde England has been good—and safe. Paddington may be 50, but he hasn’t aged a day. Although rumor has it he’s in the market for a good pair of reading glasses.
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