For as long as I have known her and for longer still, I
think as far back as her childhood, Ebony has had a teddy bear. She told me
about him, perhaps concerned I might tease her, but I first became aware of him
when I moved in with Ebony.
On nights when we were apart – if I was in Newport visiting
Mom on one of those weekends that she was flying – she would come home and
snuggle up on the couch with Mister Bear and watch television. When I returned,
Mister Bear would hang out on the sofa watching over Ebony and keeping an eye
on me.
Whenever she was sick, maybe with the flu or just run down
and tired from work, she would take her medicine, cradle Mister Bear in her
arms and go to sleep.
I have heard from her best friend, Mariska Hargitay, that
Mister Bear was popular with her pit bull Q, and often ended up in the Q’s
kennel being licked to death. Then Mister Bear would get the full Whirlpool
treatment in the washer and dryer. He has been through so much over so many
years that whatever features he was once adorned with have faded and now the
best way to describe him would be “beige.”
Nevertheless, Mister Bear is a member of the family and
since Ebony’s illness, has been with her almost constantly. When we tuck her in
at night we make certain that Mister Bear is with her. Ebony reaches out
instinctively for him and hugs him to her chest where he remains until morning.
When we traveled to Newport for Thanksgiving, Mister Bear
rode with us, sat in traffic with us and hung out at my Mother’s with us. He’s
been there before: when Ebony first started at jetBlue, she was being trained
out of Boston and Ebony came up to stay and brought Mister Bear. So he knows
Newport.
This time around, for Christmas, Mister Bear made the trip
with us; and Ebony kept him close even when she was in her wheelchair. She
seemed to want him near and if she wasn’t holding him, sat him next to her
while we watched “Love Actually,” “Die Hard” “Donnie Brasco” and “Star Trek II:
The Wrath of Khan.” Mister Bear was also present for my non-credit lecture
series: Why “Die Hard” is a Christmas movie; Al Pacino should play Columbo; and
the next Star Trek series should be not about a starship and crew, but about
Khan and his crew from when they are first exiled until STII.
On December 27, the day we left Newport, Mister Bear was
with Ebony while I was packing the car. However, my Mother put Mister Bear on
the couch while she and Ebony’s Mother Sundai, put on her coat, hat and scarf.
It was only when we got back to the apartment that we realized Mister Bear was
still in Newport.
I called my Mother the next morning and she went to the Post
Office to send Mister Bear overnight. She sent him Priority Express and told us
he’d arrive by Noon on Friday. Mister Bear would be taking an unscheduled trip
but certainly it would be an adventure he could share with Ebony when they’re
alone.
The thing is, Ebony had her cancer treatment on Friday and
we were out of the apartment all day. Naturally, we expected to come back and
find Mister Bear in his new box, waiting for us. But that was not to be: the
United States Post Office does not leave Priority Express packages in New York
City. So we returned to a little notice advising us how to schedule a
redelivery. So I did.
Today, Saturday, we waited all day for Mister Bear to
arrive. I told Ebony he would be coming today and she lit up and even gave me a
Billy Idol smirk.
But Mister Bear never arrived. Sundai worked for the Post
Office for 30 years and told me it’s unlikely that they’ll deliver on Sunday,
New Year’s Eve and that we may not see Mister Bear until Tuesday.
Ebony seemed to take this in her stride, perhaps knowing that Mister Bear was on a adventure worthy of a children’s book, but I was pissed. I feel like Liam Neeson in “Taken” and want to call the Post Office and say, “I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let Mister Bear go now, that’ll be the end of it.”
Ebony seemed to take this in her stride, perhaps knowing that Mister Bear was on a adventure worthy of a children’s book, but I was pissed. I feel like Liam Neeson in “Taken” and want to call the Post Office and say, “I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you let Mister Bear go now, that’ll be the end of it.”
I doubt anyone there would care. But if I find out Mister
Bear is in Paris, I’m going.
Meantime, Ebony is sleeping peacefully and we are patiently
awaiting the safe return of Mister Bear.
