Some Days You Just Need Your Buddies

As you will recall, when my soul needed rejuvenating, I fled north to the cottage to lick my wounds and heal.  This was no longer a luxury for me. My parents lived at the “cottage” now that they called their home.  It was a three bedroom ranch on Houghton Lake right next to the Cut River.  It sat on a dead end street so there was no traffic and very little activity except for the few seasonal families that came up for their summer vacations. It was a slice of heaven for me.

We would go to the cottage to visit my parents.  My brother, his wife and his son, would also come up and spend the weekend, but it no longer held the solace it had offered me in my youth. 

It was not a place to escape from your troubles any longer as your troubles packed their suitcases and traveled with you. I still enjoyed the cottage, laying on the deck and reading a book or climbing on the Cindy Marie and paddling out away from the noises of a family filled house.

When Killer had taken me to Toronto, we had rented a paddle boat.  It was fun, but it was not something that I yearned for.  In 1981, he bought me one of these paddle boats from Toronto and had it shipped to the house.  We kept it at the lake to use on the few occasions we traveled there in the summer.

I took up sewing. I went to Ken Edwards Sewing Center in Lansing and I bought a very fancy sewing machine from whom else? Neal’s mother. It is truly amazing how small the world is when you get out in to it.

I taught myself to sew.  While everyone else was all snug as a bug in a rug, I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, in the stillness of the house and sewed. I was not alone, as Killer and Worm were in the house, but they were in bed and I had the peace I so desperately sought right there at the dining room table.

I had taken the basics of sewing in middle school, but I did not see myself as anyone who would be sewing for fun.  My Mother and her sisters were beautiful seamstress.  My great grandmother was a seamstress at Maurice’s for years. My maternal grandmother was a seamstress.  These women sewed and they made clothes, finely tailored suits, draperies, I dabbled in animals at first.

Killer had a penchant for stuffed animals.  He referred to them as his “buddies.”  I know! I can hear you chuckling as your read this. This man that was such a controlling freak liked stuffed animals!

When I met Killer he had eight stuffed animals.  Each had a name and a story that accompanied this plush comforting creature. There was Ted E Bear who was a pocket sized bear that his mother had made and was featured in many of her cards.  Ted E. Bear was about five to six inches long and resembled a Flat Stanley.  He went everywhere with us.  He had his own wardrobe and often he could be found in Killer’s suit coat inside breast pocket.  Ted E. Bear liked to dance the night away in the palm of your hand and there was a ditty that was sung as he did.

Terribly Timid Timothy the Tiger was a knitted multi colored orange and yellow stripped tiger.  I think he slung hash at Sambo’s Restaurant when he was not travelling in the buddy bag to exotic places. Soft Dog was also one of the original eight and so was Kermit the Frog who was a brightly green knitted frog with long legs and arms. Leopold was a black and white panda bear that origins came from somewhere overseas.  I cannot recall each of their names and the stories.  One would think I would remember them clearly, but too much time has passed.  I just texted Worm to see if she could recall and even though these stuffed animals were a part of our everyday existence, it is hard for us to recall their stories.

When Killer and I traveled to Toronto the second or third time, the buddies had multiplied and they had gone from little hand buddies, to large life size dogs.  My first sewing project was Spot.  He was a brown short plush simple looking dog that was sewn to constantly sit. He did not have the capability to run or I’m confident he would have.

I had sewn a large bag for the buddies and they traveled with us to Toronto on more than one occasion. As we checked into this five star hotel, the bag attendant attempted to put the maroon twill colored bag drawn tightly closed by a draw string on to the cart to deliver our luggage to the room.  Spot was in the car. Killer loved this dog that I had sewn.  He was so proud of his new buddy.  He grabbed Spot off the seat and carried him under his arm to the room.  

The bag attendant followed us to our room, in a very distinct British Canadian accent he asked Killer what was in the bag.  With the straightest of faces and in his own fake British accent that he pulled out of his ass when he first met someone, he responded, “ Dear Chap, those are our buddies.” He proceeded to open the bag and introduce each to this bag attendant. I honestly thought I would die! As he neared the end of his introductions he reached into his suit coat pocket and removed Ted E. Bear, who was dressed in his tux and had been preparing for this performance of dancing the night away in the palm of the baggage attendant.

I often wonder what this man thought as he departed from our room.  I know that I would have flown down the stairs to share this freak show with my coworkers. Long live the buddies!