(2.16.10) Security Objects

I don't have any distinct memories of a "favorite" stuffed animal from my childhood. Sure, there was the lost triceratops puppet that I liked to sleep with and I came unhinged when my Raggedy Ann Doll was given away, but there was no one object that retained my lasting affection through childhood and into adulthood. I remember feeling as if I ought to have a beloved blankie or tattered rabbit. I even tried to establish a relationship with a blanket once, but it did not stick. By the time I reached middle school, I had resigned myself to a life without a security object.

Enter the Peace Bear.

Remember Beanie Babies? When I was thirteen, my uncle gave me a large Beanie Baby Peace Bear. I quickly latched onto this bear and he became a source of comfort as I traveled through the turmoils of adolescence. On September 11, 2001, I went to my room and cried, with the bear in my arms. Nameless as he was, the bear became a sense of stability for me. He went to college where he bore more teary cuddle sessions. While packing up my room at the end of one spring semester, I decided to keep him out for the summer. He represented a sense of home, I concluded. But at the end of the summer, in a frenetic attempt to pare down my possessions, I put the bear in storage in my grandparents' basement. It was time to move into adulthood.

Enter Ichabod.

My senior year of college was a rough year. Relationship strains intersected with an unknown future, I was left lost and lonely with adulthood looming before me. Ichabod, a lovingly beheaded stuffed moose, entered into my life and we became fast friends. He is a large stuffed animal, the perfect size and shape for a hug or a nap, because his head does not interfere. He belonged to a friend, and my visits to my friend's apartment always involved a hug or two from Ichabod. Ichabod even had a few sleepovers at my house, once my roommates recovered from the oddity of a headless stuffed animal presiding over the living room. Ichabod was safety, he was embracing, he was love. He quickly filled and overflowed the comforting role that my bear held before he was relegated to the basement.

With graduation ceremonies looming, a different kind of ceremony took place on campus. I officially adopted Ichabod. Cheesy, I know. On the cusp of adulthood, my favorite graduation gift was a stuffed animal. I have had a nomadic life since graduation, but with Ichabod at my side I do not feel as if I face these transitions alone. When human hugs are absent, Ichabod is there. In one of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, Ma talks about how the china shepherdess must be in her place before a dwelling is "home". Ichabod provides that sense for me. I feel a bit ridiculous and childish for the role Ichabod has in my life. Am I really dedicating a blog post to Ichabod? I do have friends and family who support me and love me, and I would not have survived without them. At the same time, I am desperately trying to figure this whole adult thing out, and Ichabod provides a link to my childhood. He is a connection to a time when a stuffed animal truly could provide confidence to face the outside world. I find peace in this link, as immature as it may be, so for the time being Ichabod is staying by my side. Think and say what you will, Ichabod and I can take it.