Mr. Buckles

BuckleBear.jpg

This post is from Mr. Noodle from Noodle Junction. Thank you, Mr. Noodle!

He was an out-of-the ordinary bear, that’s for sure.

There was some zig-zaggy stitching on his belt and he wore a vest that had seen better days for sure. But there was something about him that everyone in Bearsville sort of admired and, perhaps, even loved.

They all called him Mr. Buckles and I’m not sure that I ever knew his real name.

The reason behind his name was everything he wore included a buckle of some sort. There were ring buckles and clasp buckles and hook buckles, silver buckles and black plastic buckles and bronze buckles. There were even buckles that lit up and blinked. If there was a buckle he had it.

Younger bears would see him and giggle, as he passed by, about his eccentric clothes but he didn’t seem to mind. It was like he knew some special secret about his buckles that they weren’t privy to. Some inside joke that only he knew.

He was that kind of bear. He had that quiet ego that made the other, older, bears respect him, even with his oddities. Everyone always knew that ultimately he would end up in a home that would love and respect him for being the odd bear that he was. Everyone was a little jealous of that fact, I believe. Not one single bear in Bearsville wanted to end up in a home where they were just “eye candy”, which was how teddy bears in Bearsville referred the ones who ended up on the top shelf of some spoiled little girls bedroom with no love or affection. You know the girl… she begs and pleads to her rich daddy to take the poor teddy out of Bearsville, promising to love it and care for it and, within a week, the bear is on the top shelf, collecting dust, wishing they had been the kind of bear who gets cuddled and roughed up so much that they eventually end up in a treasure chest with a missing eye and two or three stitched-up “love repairs”.

I remember the last time I saw Mr. Buckles.

It was a week or so before he was taken out of Bearsville and put with the little boy who likes buckles so much that he will stop whatever he is doing—playing at the beach, digging sand castles, running around on his front lawn, to go and play with the buckles on his stroller. I heard he is a smart little boy who is fascinated with clamps and clasps and the way things work. I asked Mr. Buckles, “Why is the buckle so important to you?”

His answer came easy to him. Sort of like he had thought all of this out before and expected this question. He suavely replied, “The buckle is one of the simplest mechanisms there is. But so completely complicated at the same time. You see, my friend, the buckle is the meaning of life. Whether it’s trying to make ends meet with your budget or two people finding a mate. To find two things that connect so tightly that tension, resistance or friction can’t break them apart is why we all wake up everyday. People think I am strange because I love the buckle. I think I am normal, I just wear my buckles on my sleeve instead of hiding them.”

As he walked away I found myself marveling at how, even though his heads and arms didn’t quite fit together like a perfect Teddy Bear, his buckles made him one very incredible bear…

If you would like to guest post on this website, please email me (SAJ). I will be posting guest posts from now until September 15th.

p.s. If you need an SAJ fix (?!) there is interview with me over here at Creative Construction: Life & Art. Nothing you haven’t already read here but still kinda fun.

Uh…YEAH You Are

trying to draw a cute boy

This post is from Abbey from indulge*laugh*create. Thank you, Abbey!

I like to think that I have a great memory. Yeah, I may still count on my fingers or not know the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite or never remember how to spell simple words like definitely (had to spell check that) …but, darn it, I can remember stuff that happened years and years and years ago! It’s my one true talent.

One of my very favorite memories comes from high school. And while fifteen and may have been many moons ago, this moment is still very, very, embarrassingly clear in my mind…

It was the final period of the day, and I sat in psychology class just counting the minutes until play rehearsal at 3:30pm. To kill time before our movie, The Breakfast Club, I decided to indulge in my favorite pastime…staring at Hardin Field.

Hardin Field was a well known person in Woodford County. His family had owned the farm across from the Kmart for generations. In fact, Hardin wasn’t just Hardin…he was Hardin Field the V or IV or XXIX…whatever…they’d been around for awhile. And while Hardin was one of those “popular kids” that played for the varsity baseball team (where I was a Stats Girl), he was actually nice to the rest of us…the ones not cool enough for cotillion, the ones who never got invites to private parties on Friday night.

I was one of those people…and I was completely and utterly smitten with him.
Hardin was sitting across the room from me, his head down, shoulders slumped. He must have felt me looking at him because he sat up suddenly and look right into my eyes. I thought I was going to melt into the floor.

He crooked his finger at me and said, “C’mere.”

I pulled a Molly Ringwald, a la Sixteen Candles, and looked to the left and then to the right. I pointed to myself and incredulously asked, “ME??”

“Yeah you…c’mere.”

I didn’t think my pubescent legs were gonna hold me as I made the long trek from my desk to this magical space before me. I sat down next to him just wondering why oh why he wanted little ole me to sit with him.

Just then, his head rose once again…eyes penetrating mine for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he spoke:

“Um…could you tell me if I’m hot?”

I sat stunned. Maybe this means he likes me…maybe he wants to date me…maybe he has always secretly been in love with me, too!! Are you hot?? Of Course You’re Hot!! You’re gorgeous!

“Uh…YEAH you are.”

There was a moment of intense silence. He was looking at me strangely. Why was he looking at me strangely?

It was right then that I realized…he wanted me to feel his forehead to see if he had a fever.

If you would like to guest post on this website, please email me (SAJ). I will be posting guest posts from now until September 15th