Teddy Bear picnic planned for June 7

FALL RIVER — Teddy bear lovers are invited to the Fall River Public Library’s 20th annual Teddy Bear Picnic at 11 a.m. Saturday, June 7, at the side entrance of the Main Library, 104 N. Main St.

Children and parents are invited to bring picnic lunches, blankets and their favorite teddy bears. In case of rain, the event will be postponed to a future date.

The day’s activities will include a story hour featuring the children’s book, “What Next, Baby Bear!” by Jill Murphy. There will then be a teddy bear puppet craft, and a beauty contest, with prizes for the prettiest, funniest and most original bears.

The library’s teddy bear mascot, Theodore Bear, will be on hand to greet friends, pose for pictures and lead children in a teddy bear parade around the library. All children attending the event can enter their names into a raffle drawing to win one of several prizes.

For further information, contact David Mello or Assistant Administrator Paula Costa Cullen at (508) 324-2700.

Source: http://www.southcoasttoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080529/NEWS/805290370

Teddy Spud and his first adventure on a Pirate Ship 4

Spud crouched behind the railings as the waves dashed over him. At that moment he felt very alone and very cold. The horizon tipped and rocked queasily but he did not feel sea-sick any more and the long knife at his waist was a constant reminder that he would see death soon. The bandolier with its three pistols seemed a dead-weight, and he had no idea how to fire them, or more importantly, how to load them again and his knees felt decidedly weak. On each side of him crouched the pirate hoard, bears of all shapes and sizes, manufacturer’s labels fluttering madly in the salty wind. Rascal stood in the prow, swinging a grappling hook. His long red hair and his long red beard had been woven into a Medusa of snakes, and from the end of each one hung the tarry rope used by the gunners. They smouldered and glowed as they blew about him so that the ship appeared to be captained by the devil himself. The pirate to Spud’s left was a long-shanked old bear with a rumbling growl of a voice and chest completely threadbare, His nails were long and thick, digging into the timber of the rail.
“Are you scared?” asked Spud.
“Grrrrrrrr-of course I’m bloody scared.”
Spud watched the damaged schooner get nearer. Through the spray he saw the gun-ports along her side flip open and the stubby black muzzles of cannon poked through.
“They’re going to shoot at us! We’ll be hit. We need to hide!”
A cruel paw grasped his shoulder and the nails bit deep. “Grrrrrrrrrrrr- lilly-livered spawn of a whore, stand thee firm – grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”
Spud closed his eyes (which he could do now) and tried to pray the way he had heard Hattie pray, before she got too old to kneel down. “Our father, who art in heaven-”
“Grrrrrrrrrr!”
He stopped, and watched the ship get closer and closer. When they were so close he could see rifles bristling along the deck, and blue uniforms strutting to and fro, the deck heaved below him and he was thrown on his back. The broadside was a shattering roar as cannon after cannon fired, and the enemy ship vanished in a dense cloud until the wind whipped it away. The ship was now astern but gaping holes ran along the side and Spud could only guess what the carnage would be like in there, the air a mass of flying daggers of wood. But the ship came about and this time, it fired first and the deck shivered.
Longshanks was shaking his fist at the enemy ship, waving his cutlass and growling terribly until another cannon fired. The railing was gone in an instant and the bear was gone, whirled away across the deck. Spud ran after him as another cannon ball crashed into his comrades. He ducked falling timbers and leaped over a body, sliding on his knees to the side of the stricken bear. Musket balls twanged and whined about him, punching holes through the flapping sales.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Oh grrrrr. Grr,” the old bear panted. “Do I’s look all right, matey? Tell me the worst, tell me if I’s dying. I needs to make my peace with God.”
Spud looked at the bear’s body and he was not all right. The cannon ball must have struck his legs, for one was gone completely and where once a metal plate might have existed, or a simple joint, there was now a horrible mess of bone and raw meat. The other leg was missing below the knee, but the stump was neatly furred and the peg-leg had been plunged into the mast like a lance by the force of the blast.
“Grrrrrrr – well?”
Spud wiped away a tear.
“That bad?”
The little bear nodded. “It’s your leg. It’s gone. You’re bleeding all over the deck. I don’t think-”
Something very strange happened at that point. The abomination that had once been the bear’s hip seemed to change and it was like looking at shapes in the mist. Spud rubbed his eyes and the mist cleared, but now he was looking at a metal plate, and the bear that had been alive was a stuffed toy once more. Spud tried to lift the bear’s head but all he heard was a rusty growl from a bear left out in the rain.
“Look lively, over there!”
He jumped to his feet in time to see the masts and sails of the enemy ship collide with theirs, and battle-lust gripped him like a fever. He drew the sword and screamed as he followed the others over the side, and into the battle.

Teddy Spud becomes a Pirate: 3

Rascal stood on the tipping deck, staring into the rain. The Centaur bucked and slid through the waves and every part of the old ship creaked and moaned, whistled and flapped as she struggled onwards. The wind came in solid walls, each long blast preceded by a lull as if the storm was breathing in, and the wind grew in strength each time until Spud’s fur was blown straight out and the little bear had to cling on with all his strength. He was far above Rascal, near the top of the treacherous webbing and the sails billowed and strained around him. His foot slipped and he fell, hooking an arm over the rope and clinging on whilst his body blew out horizontally. He was shouting and begging but the wind blew his words away.

“Please, Rascal, let me come down. I’ll work in the kitchens, I’ll scrub the decks, anything.”

Rascal stood firm, his wooden leg planted on the deck as if it had grown there, and his one good eye stared redly through the driving rain. He pointed upwards, and pulled out a pistol from his belt, aiming it at Spud.

“I can’t go any further,” Spud yelled, his squeaky voice breaking. “I can’t.”

The pistol fired, and the lead ball flattened against the mast inches from Spud’s head. A splinter of wood stuck in his leg and he smelled burned fur. Now the Crow’s Nest did not seem so far after all and he scrambled the rest of the way, pulling himself up into the safety of the lookout. For a moment he lay there, panting with the effort, and actually laughing that he was still alive. It was the first time that he had not thought about home, and the old lady who looked after him. His Hattie, whom he had known since she was very young, and since he was brand new. He pulled the splinter from his leg and looked at the tear and at that point, something very strange happened. Instead of seeing the brown stuffing he was used to, he felt a pain, and the end of the splinter was red. He closed the tear and the edges joined, leaving a scar behind.

“What is this?” He looked at the leg once more and tugged at his fur. “Ouch!”

He was real, no longer something made that could be unmade. He was real. “I am alive!” he shouted into the wind.

“Belay there, ye landlubber. What can ye see?” Rascal’s voice blew up to him, reminding where he was, on an impossible pirate ship, somewhere in the place where toilets led to, and somehow, somewhere along that journey, he had become real. He looked over the edge.

The view from the Crow’s Nest was both wonderful and terrifying. Each time the ship rode a wave, the mast swayed what seemed an impossible distance and he had to cling on tight to stop himself being thrown to the floor. The deck was so far below that Rascal appeared to be tiny, and the waves that heaved themselves up around the ship were more like mountains of water over which they had to climb, their tops whipped away in the wind. Beyond the blackness of the waves the sky was an angry red, and the ceiling of brick that had been there on his arrival seemed to have mysteriously dissolved, to be replaced by clouds so thick that rain fell from them in solid cascades. The sickly billows of cloud rushed overhead as he swayed and pretty soon, he felt awfully sick. A faceful of rain cleared Spud’s mind and he picked up the telescope that hung from a nail, and tried to focus it onto the distance, not sure what he should be looking for. At first he could only see mist, but as he turned the barrel of the telescope (which was difficult, because his paw was small and slippy), the distant views became clear and he saw – another ship. It looked to be in trouble, wallowing horribly, and the biggest mast was broken, the sails trailing in the sea. Waves were crashing onto it, and beyond the ship, in the farthest distance was a long, low darkness. He fiddled with the telescope again, resting it on the edge of the Crow’s Nest and cried out with joy.

“Land!” he screamed into the wind, waving his paw. “Land Ahoy! Ship in trouble! Land!”

Rascal was talking to a tall bear and they both looked up at him. He shouted again and waved, and Rascal might have waved back, it was hard to tell with the monkey, for his arms were always on the move. They moved out of sight and it dawned on Spud that he would have to somehow, make his way back down the rigging, over the swaying sea and the hard deck. He turned round, losing his balance and discovered that the way in and out of the Crow’s Nest was actually through the bottom, which had a trapdoor in it and so he summoned his courage and opened it. The climb down was worse than going up, for every time he looked at where he was putting his paws he saw the sea heaving and crashing and the mast swayed out alarmingly. The flapping canvas deafened him and by the time he fell onto the deck, he was exhausted. A wooden leg stamped into the deck by his face and the metal hook scooped him up by the neck.

“Well?” asked captain Rascal. “What did ye see, little bear?”

Spud grappled with the hook, trying to pull himself free. “I saw an island in the distance, and in front of it was a ship. I think it was in trouble. I think we should go and help them.”

A large wave thundered over the deck. The captain held onto the wheel, and Spud clung onto the end of the hook. When it was past, the ship shuddered and groaned, but Rascal was laughing heartily. “Says ye! Well, maybe we will, lad, but it’s treasure we’re after, and entertainment. Maybe we’ll find someone to walk the plank, and if we don’t, well, we’ve always got ye!”

Spud had had enough. He put his paws on his hips and looked the captain in his one eye. “Now you listen to me,” he squeaked. “I’ve had enough of this. If you want to kill me, do it right now, or leave me alone.”

Rascal bent down and stared at Spud. He stood up and stroked his knotted beard, and fiddled with the gold ring in his ear. Then he kneeled down, still holding the wheel and drew out his long knife, and he took hold of Spud. The small bear closed his eyes, prepared for the worst, but he felt the knife handle in his paw and opened his eyes.

“Welcome to the crew, master Spud,” the captain said. “Ye have become a pirate this day. There is much to learn but ye have a great heart. Great enough to learn the Secret, I’ll be bound. But that’s for another day. Now get ye below, for we’ve got a ship to catch. Tell everyone it’s action stations!”

Teddy Bear Celebrities

Some of my Friends and Relatives
This is my hero Alfonzo
The Grand Duke Michailovich of Russia gave Alfonzo as a gift to Princess Xenia in 1908. When she visited Britain before the start of WWI, Alfonzo came with her. The war made her return home impossible, which save her from the fate of her relatives in the Russian Revolution. Alfonzo stayed by her side until her death in 1965. Alfonzo is one of my heroes.
This is my friend the Berliner Bear
Berliner Bear adorns the flag and the city seal as the symbol for the city of Berlin, Germany. You can see him on postcards, souvenirs, and sitting in shop windows in Berlin. I visit him and his friends whenever I am in Germany.
This is Bussi Bear
Bussi is the star of his own magazine in Germany. The children’s magazine “BUSSI-BÄR” contains stories, coloring pictures, arithmetic games, rhymes, and many other interesting things, including bedtime stories. I love these stories.
This is my relative Fozzie
Fozzie was a television star in America, on Jim Henson’s Muppet Show. The Muppet Show also featured Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy. I loved watching this show. It was very funny.
This is my friend Lars
The stories of Lars are famous around the world. They have been translated in over 20 languages. Lars lives in the Netherlands, but his ancestors are from the North Pole. We sometimes go skiing together.
My friend the Paddington Bear
Paddington is famous and beloved around the world, second only to Winnie-the-Pooh. Paddington showed me around London on my first visit there and whenever I come back to London I say hello to him. He lives at Paddington station and he waves to all the commuters rushing by every day. So he is a very busy bear.
The Roosevelt Bears
“The Roosevelt Bears” became famous in a series of newspaper stories written by Seymour Eaton. They were my dear friends when I was growing up.
My relative Smokey Bear
Smokey became famous when he was found in a forest surrounded by flames. To escape the fire, he had climbed up a tree. By the time the fire fighters found him, he was charred, blackened and hungry. Soon the story was broadcast around the U.S. Smokey soon moved to Washington, DC, to live at the National Zoo. He was a dear friend and one of my heroes.
My friend Winnie the Pooh
Winnie is the most famous of all my friends. Millions of his books have been sold and he is a star in some very popular Walt Disney movies. I love to watch his movies. Well, actually I love to watch all Disney Movies, preferably with a bunch of friends and a big pot of honey for each of us.

Yours truly,

Teddy

Teddy Spud in questionable company: 2

Spud caught sight of Buster staring into the toilet bowl before the roaring water carried him down the pipe. He held his breath for as long as he could (which was not long at all, as he is a very small bear), and finally, breathed out his last breath. The pipe he was being carried along was horribly small and the water tasted terrible. He was about to give up when with a whoosh, he was blasted out into still water. With his remaining strength he kicked his stubby legs, pulled with his little arms, and forced his way to the surface. He paddled his legs, trying to keep afloat but teddies are not good swimmers when heavy with water. He had time for a quick breath before he went under again, but he had time to see that he was in an underwater cave, and the roof above his head was low and curving, with lights dotted along it. The water was terribly cold and his strength was sapping away. “Hattie!” he shouted, but his voice was not much more than a little squeak. “Hattie, help me. This is spud-”

He was going to shout more, but he sank too quickly and his mouth filled with water. For the last time, he kicked his way to the surface, and shook the water from his one and half ears. He prepared to shout again, when something grabbed him by the neck. Spud reached up with his paws to try and free himself. It felt like a metal hook was around his neck, cool and hard. He struggled to free himself and someone laughed.

“Wants to drown, does ye? Wants to go to Teddy Bear heaven, does ye? If ye keeps struggling like that, I’ll let you go, so help me, I will.”

A strong brown paw reached down and grabbed him by one arm, and he was hoisted high into the air before being dumped on something very hard, but wonderfully dry. He lay shivering, fighting back the tears and trying to be brave.

“Not another one, skip!”

“Cor blimey, why does they keep fallin in, I wants to know.”

And a small rather mean voice that seemed to belong to a female of some kind. “Throw im back, e be too small, e be.”

He wiped the water from his face, and sat up with some difficulty, still heavy with water. What he saw made his mouth fall open. “My word,” he said. “My word, this is amazing. Wait until I tell Hattie.”

“Wait until I tells Attie.” The small mean voice was mocking him and now he could see the owner. It was another teddy bear, even smaller than he, and she was dressed in an extraordinary way, with high boots that were too big, flopping over at the top, and a leather jerkin with no sleeves so that he could see a tattoo on each of her arms, and on her head was a red spotted bandanna. “You won’t see no Attie again, little bear. Not ever.” She cackled with laughter.

Spud turned around slowly. Four or five bears stood watching him, standing proud with paws on hips, and behind them billowed a white sail. The floor below rocked gently, and as he continued to turn, he came across his rescuer. It was a monkey with dangly arms as loose as old rope, one of which ended in a gleaming hook, and it stared at him with one good eye, like a pinprick of light. The other eye was hidden behind an eye patch and it was chewing on something. It took the banana skin out of its mouth and pouted thoughtfully. “Does ye,” it bega,. “Does ye know how to fight with a sword or a belaying pin, does ye?”

Spud shook his head.

“Then does ye know how to cook, how to clean the toilets and do the dusting? The Aardvark is very dusty, she is.”

Spud nodded reluctantly. “If I must work,” he began politely.

The hook whistled past his head and caught him around the neck and he found his face almost touching the monkey’s. “Ye will be the cabin boy of the Aardvark,” he said and his breath reeked of peanuts. “I be captain Rascal and these scurvy knaves, well, they be my crew. And you, you’re technically what we calls flotsam. Maybe we should call you that, what d’ye think, me hearties?”

“But my name’s Spud,” said spud and the cheering stopped as if it had been cut by a cutlass.

Rascal roared with laughter. “That be a good name for ye. There’s spuds need peeling, I’ll be bound. Now, we’ve a journey to make, and tums to fill, so get ye to the galley, spud.”

Spud raised his paw and Rascal lowered his brow. “What?”

“Where are we going? Only, I’ve got to be at home, waiting, when Hattie comes back from her sister’s .”

Rascal clapped him on the back. “We’ve got no time for sitting on beds waiting for old ladies to come home. We’re on an adventure.”

“What kind of adventure, if I can ask.”

Rascal tugged at his gold earring and took off his tricornered hat to scratch his hairy head. “If I might ask? Ye better start speaking proper, get us a bad name ye will.” He looked to left and right with his good eye, and leaned close. “Ye’ll not breathe a word of this, or I’ll open ye up like a kipper. The adventure we’re on is-” he leaned even closer. “Treasure,” he said, and spat.

Teddy Spud his Adventures: 1

Teddy bears play a part in the lives of innumerable grownups. Often, even after a childhood teddy has been worn into a threadbare, shapeless lump, the affection is inspired still remains. Our stories ranging from mystery to humor to romance pay tribute to the special relationship that exists between a teddy bear and its owner. Our story starts with Spud, a small very old teddy bear:

Spud was a very small, very old teddy. He was so old that Spud could even remember when he was born. All he could remember was the day when the brightly coloured wrapping paper was torn away and he saw Hattie for the first time. She was only three years old on that day, but he knew the moment that she picked him up and cuddled him, that Hattie had a big heart. That was sixty eight years ago and now, well, you might be able to work out for yourself how old Hattie was, but she still had the same sparkle in her eye, she still lived in the same house, with the same toys, but only Spud lived downstairs and the others had to make do with a stuffy old toy chest in the room her grandchildren played in. Spud spent most of the day simply sitting, watching the world outside the window and he had seen such changes in that time. He had been born in a war and these windows used to be criss-crossed with black tape to stop them shattering from bomb blast, and he had seen the search-lights sweeping the sky, looking for enemy planes. And when Hattie went to the shelter, screaming for Spud, he had been left here on this very window-ledge, and that was when the bomb fell on the house next door. After the explosion, which was the loudest sound he had ever heard, Spud lay in the corner of the room and he could smell his fur smouldering, which explained the bald patch on his tummy. He could not see properly, because he had lost one of his eyes, but he could hear very well indeed, despite the ringing in his one and a half ears.

Now, he stared out of the window at a different street, filled with noise and with cars, and he watched the little children going home with their parents and remembered Hattie. A growl disturbed him and kept quite still, hoping that he had not been spotted, but he was too late. Buster stood watching him, his little stub of a tail wagging, but he was baring his teeth and his little eyes glinted with mischief.

“Hattie loves me,” he said. “She needs me, she doesn’t need a toy like you. You’re not even real, are you?”

Spud stood up with an effort and stretched his back. “Shoo!” he said, waving his little paws. “Be off with you.”

Buster opened his mouth wide and laughed and his jaws looked big enough to bite Spud in half. “It’s the end of the road for you. You’re falling to pieces, look at you. I’m doing you a favour, mate.”

Spud edged away from the dog, wondering if he could manage to climb the curtains, or perhaps, leap over it onto the table. Buster laughed again. “Don’t even think of it.”

Spud thought desperately. The dog looked like it was going to jump at any moment and so he took a deep breath, and jumped. Buster leaped straight up in the air and his jaws clamped shut on the little teddy’s body. He could smell the awful dogfood smell of buster’s breath, and felt the hot air as he panted. Buster did not stop to chat. He trotted through the sitting room, past the neat little chairs, through the simple hallway wit stained glass windows in the front door, to the downstairs toilet. He dropped Spud into the toilet bowl, and as the little bear tried to swim, reached up and pulled the silver handle with his teeth. Spud heard a terrible roar as cold water poured onto him and the next moment, he was whirled away into the darkness.

How a Teddy Bear was born

How I was Born

There are at least two popular stories about how I was born. One story is a legend. It took place when American President Theodore Roosevelt went on a hunting trip in Colorado. After a day of unsuccessful hunting, some maids at the hotel where he was staying created me out of scraps of cloth and gave me to Roosevelt to cheer him up. Later, after he killed a real bear, his daughter Alice admired me saying, “I will call you Teddy.”

The other story is true. While President Roosevelt was on a hunting trip in Mississippi he took pity on a terribly injured bear. The bear had been beaten with clubs and tied to a tree. Roosevelt’s party wanted him to make sport of the bear by shooting it, but he refused. Instead, he ordered that the bear be killed quickly and humanely, to relieve it of its misery.

Washington Post political cartoonist Clifford Berryman illustrated the event and later redrew the bear as me, a cuddly cub. The cartoon and story became very popular, and a Brooklyn storeowner saw the drawing of Roosevelt and me. His wife then created the real me and placed me in their shop window with a sign reading “Teddy’s Bear.” The storeowner later founded the Ideal Novelty and Toy Co., which still exists today.

At about the same time in Germany the Steiff firm created my brother, whom they exhibited at the Leipzig Toy Fair in March 1903. They soon created 3000 more of us for export to the United States. Many other manufacturers joined in, and soon we were so popular that ladies carried us everywhere and children loved being photographed with us. Roosevelt even used me as his mascot in his bid for re-election.

I now spend a good bit of time at the American Museum of Natural History, in Washington, DC. If you happen to visit, please stop by to say hello to me.

Yours truly,

Teddy

Teddy Bear Museums

My Favorite Teddy Bear Museums

There are lots of Teddy Bear museums around the world. Here are three of my favorite museums that currently have web sites:

Teddy Bear Museum in Jeju Island
http://www.teddybearmuseum.co.kr/newteddy/
Chungmoon Travel Complex
Jeju Island, Korea

The British Bear Collection
http://www.thebritishbearcollection.co.uk/
The Rhodyate Lodge
Banwell Castle
Banwell, Somerset BS29 6NR
UK

The Dorset Teddy Bear Museum
http://www.teddybearhouse.co.uk/
Eastgate, corner of High East St. & Salisbury St.
Dorchester, Dorset, DT1 1JU
Tel: +44 (0) 1305 266040
UK

Teddy

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