Woke up thinking of teddy bears today.  Odd, since my dreams had nothing to do with these made-man animals.  In those dreams I was leading an Amish-like family through the first modern grocery store they had ever been to.  They didn't look Amish, and they didn't say they were Amish, but they certainly displayed the gentle and child-like nature that my sub-conscious mind seems to associate with the Amish.  Not that it matters much, since we no sooner turned the corner of the first aisle and there was Woody Allen, apparently helping his security people shop for meat.  Instead of chatting up this obviously talented man in an attempt to shake loose from him at least one idea that might yet save this journal from utter worthlessness, I immediately turned away and became thoroughly intrigued by a bottle of sassafras tea. 
     There's a good reason for this, and it has less to do with certain pharmaceutical experiments I performed on myself three years ago than with the fact that I learned just yesterday that America's only bottler of sassafras tea is located a mere 12 miles to my north as the thirsty crow flies.  It turns out that it takes several tons of bark from the roots of the sassafras tree at $6 to $8 a ton to supply our country with the 4.5 million cups of sassafras tea it craves every year that ends in a whole digit.  Mormons especially like it because their religion forbids caffeine and the bark of the roots of the sassafras trees which grow in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia, the Carolinas, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Ohio just happen to lack that evil ingredient.  A 12-ounce bottle of concentrate, which sells for between $1.69 and $2.99 depending in part on how far it must be carted from my region of Ohio, makes 12 cups of hot tea or 8 glasses of iced tea according to those who should know.
     I'm not sure if it was a 12-ounce bottle I was reaching for in my dream or not, but I do know that Woody would have been much the better conversationalist.  Alas, it seems that even in my dreams I have an aversion to famous people - at least to famous people I know to be famous.  Had I never heard of Woody we might have had a great talk (if only about meat), but then had I never heard of him, I suppose his agent would never have been able to get him a gig in my slumbering head.  
     Ain't that the way it goes?

     I think my aversion to famous people has something to do with the fact that the clutter of expectations that I bring to the situation gets in the way of the nitty gritty mechanics of human interaction.  At least that's been the case with the several non-famous people I've attempted to talk to in my life....
     Not that sassafras tea isn't famous.  It may, in fact, be even more famous than Woody Allen, in Utah if nowhere else.  It's just that I've seen Woody's films and I've never once tasted sassafras tea.  
     And although this may come as a shock to a certain woman I talked with in an Excite chat room back on March 25, 1997, I've never knowingly tasted tequila, either. 
     Yes, I lead a sad and lonely life.
     Which might be why I ended up thinking of teddy bears at 7 this morning....

     I never had a teddy bear.  I never wanted one, either.  At a school festival held sometime during my three years in first grade I did win a large, purple stuffed bear, but the thrill of winning it was what made the occasion special.  The bear itself was too grotesque for anything but repression.  Only hypno-therapy has permitted me to recall it for this entry.
     That therapy makes clear that I never thought of it as a teddy bear, and I never used it as such. 
     The proper use of a teddy bear, of course, is cuddling.
     Basic cuddling seems to be involve the following elements:

• You.
• The Other.  (Preferably something or someone soft and non-threatening, or at least lacking in real teeth.)
• Using your arms and hands to pull The Other close to your face, neck, chest, and possibly belly.

    Because teddy bears aren't the artificial bear substitutes they appear but, essentially, labor-saving devices.

    What labor are they saving us?  The labor of having to make or track down a parent, lover, leader, or god to curl around whenever the mood strikes us.  Of course we give them our most vulnerable parts because those are the parts that reside most naturally at the center of our curls.  Just try curling around something atop your head, on your back, or under your feet, and you'll see exactly what I mean - especially if you take the time to rent a camcorder with a super slo-mo function as I did.
     Another way of looking at it is this: Teddy bears are safe, effective placebos for those children and adults whose systems are allergic to such stronger and often more expensive medicines as over-affectionate aunts, disciples of Leo Buscaglia, and prostitution.
     It is hardly a coincidence that the first teddy bears were made when Teddy Roosevelt was alive and over-affectionate aunts, disciples of Leo, and prostitution were all still under the patent control of the major drug companies which invented them.  Indeed, that's one reason why today's aspirin and acetaminophen pills will set you back several dollars instead of several pennies - these companies have to pay for the research and development that might lead to something half as able to relieve the suffering of mankind as a visit to a generic hooker somehow! 

     Anyway, that's the analysis of teddy bears as labor-saving devices I penned at 7 this morning as I struggled to wake up enough to safely go and feed my cat.  The results others might get from penning their own analysis might vary.  Fatigue, headaches, blurred vision, and nausea are some of the more common side effects reported.  If you suffer any of these side effects for more than three weeks, or experience such rare side effects as blindness, limb loss, permanent giddiness, or abdominal explosion, do NOT attempt to operate heavy machinery even if heavy machinery is the only way to get yourself to a hospital emergency room.  Thanks to recent changes in your HMO designed to serve you, the customer, none of these complaints are covered any longer, anyway.
     Most HMOs will, however, send you a little card with suggestions for emergency self-care if you send them a self-addressed, stamp envelope.
     Where do you think I got those explicit instructions about how to cuddle a teddy bear?
 

If you're one of those people who has put off their Sweetest Day shopping til the last minute, you might check out the artwork of Cindy Higby.  If you happen to be shopping for me, I'd be especially happy with her mind-expanding "Push That Truck" but, really, any of her offerings would be just great.  

A good site to keep in mind as well when it comes time to shop for Thanksgiving, Christmas, President's Day, the Solstices - oh, heck, ALL the holidays, all year 'round...

(And no, she's NOT paying me to say this, o ye cynics of a cynical age!  Grow up already!  Geez...)