Bears are taking over the boardroom

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 10/10/2018 (2838 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

If you happen to drop by the Free Press offices today, you will probably notice a much smaller, fuzzier version of myself sitting in the swivel chair in front of the computer in my office cubicle.

This tinier, funnier little Doug is covered in brown faux fur and sporting a souvenir B.C. Lions jacket that was made for a regulation-sized toddler.

What I am trying to say is that today, Oct. 10, the second Wednesday of the month, along with being the 283rd day of the year, is also National Bring Your Teddy Bear to Work/School Day.

According to a host of holiday-related websites, this is an annual day wherein otherwise normal human beings are supposed to dress up their stuffed little buddies and bring them to the office or the classroom.

“Since over half of adults still have their childhood bear, there’s a good chance you’ll be able to locate yours and celebrate the day by bringing it to work,” the site Checkiday.com gushes. “One way to celebrate the day is to take pictures of your teddy bear doing things that you usually would be doing during the day. For example, take pictures of your teddy bear typing at a computer, talking on the phone, or driving a vehicle. Tell your co-workers and school friends about the day so they bring their teddy bears as well.”

Yes, you should definitely tell all your office colleagues about this special day because I can’t imagine any of them would think there was anything remotely odd about a fully functioning adult bringing a stuffed toy to work and encouraging it to attempt assorted occupations, such as dentistry or law enforcement.

The truth is, despite the fact I am 62 years old and roughly the same size as a convenience store, I am not ashamed to admit that I still have a teddy bear.

His name is (prepare for a massive surprise) Ted, and he became my bear on the occasion of my 21st birthday. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking: “You got a teddy bear when you turned 21? Is there anything else we should know, such as you are legally prohibited from eating with a fork?”

As best as I can recall, when I turned 21, I jokingly complained about the fact that no one in my family had ever given me a bear, and when my maternal grandmother — who, for reasons I can no longer remember, I always called “Gramma Goo” — heard about it, she was beyond delighted to send me the bear that I plan on dragging to work this morning.

I lost my grandmother not too long after that, which means this pint-sized bogus cub has a special place in my heart.

For the first couple of years, this little guy basically sat around my house in the bear buff, if you catch my drift, but during a trip to the West Coast to visit family, I was able to purchase the baby-sized B.C. Lions souvenir jacket that he has sported for more than three decades.

I am also man enough to admit that when I park myself in front of the big-screen TV in the den to watch my beloved Lions, I am accompanied by three things: an ice-cold beer; enough grease-containing snacks to stop an elephant’s heart; and my teddy bear in his team jacket.

You would think people would respect a man’s deep emotional attachment to a stuffed animal presented to him by his late grandmother, but you would be wrong.

I am referring here to a horrifying incident that occurred a few years ago when I invited a group of close friends over for a barbecue wherein we would stuff our faces with grilled meats and watch the Lions tackle the Blue Bombers in a televised game.

When I marched into our den to check on the game and let everyone know the burgers were ready, I was confronted by a sight that chilled me to the bone — my friends had found some rope, which they wrapped around my bear’s neck before hanging him from the ceiling.

So, yes, there I was, covered in barbecue sauce, a burger flipper clutched in one hand, looking at my teddy bear swinging back and forth in front of the TV, hung in effigy.

“You people are MONSTERS!” I snorted. “Also, what’s the score?”

I like to think the emotional scars from that dark day have healed, but suffice it to say I’m glad my granny wasn’t there watching the game, because she was one tough customer and would have wrung my friends’ necks.

For the record, I should point out that teddy bears like mine were inspired by arguably the manliest president of the United States in history, Theodore (Teddy) Roosevelt.

As the story goes, the 26th president of the U.S. went on a hunting trip in 1902 in Mississippi, during which his companions trapped a small bear and tied it to a tree, urging Roosevelt to shoot it, which he steadfastly refused to do because he felt it would be extremely unsportsmanlike.

A political cartoonist lampooned the president’s refusal in a famous drawing in the Washington Post, a sketch that prompted a Brooklyn candy-shop owner by the name of Morris Michtom and his wife, Rose, to create a stuffed toy bear they displayed in their window and dubbed “Teddy’s Bear.”

The toy bears were mass produced, and here we are today, the day on which you, the kind-hearted readers, are being urged by me, the mushy-brained columnist, to take your bears to the office and take photographs of them engaged in whatever it is you do for a living.

After all, we live in a city that famously lent its name to the most popular toy bear in history, Winnie the Pooh. So I suggest you slap a tie on your teddy bear and take him in to the big board meeting this morning, because you can’t have too many stuffed shirts at those things.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca