Zero is Twenty-five

For the Christmas of 1988 or 1989 Jory got a cuddly, soft brown stuffed bear, with a red bowtie. He was only $10. I thought he would help Jory sleep better and could be his pal. At three going on four years old or maybe a year older, age really mattered to Jory. He love the bear and packed him around a lot, or just let him sit on his bed, during the day when he ran to play. At night all was quiet as they slept together. Sometimes the bear would sit up to eat meals or ride in the wagon. One day Jory asked us how old his bear was. That was thoughtful question for a child. Knowing the bear was brand new for Christmas, we told Jory he was zero years old. That answer satisfied our little three year old. But now, the bear needed a name. Everyone gave suggestions from big sisters, to parents and so on. Jory couldn't decide what to call his bear. Because he couldn't pick a name for the bear, he chose to call him Zero. And Zero it has been for twenty-five years.

As Jory got older, Zero got less and less attention. In time, he was moved to the toy box. Zero didn't even complain. What a great sport he was. Later he went to the playroom to sit on the beds. For some reason when the time came to clean out the toy box, Zero was passed over. Many other stuffed animals, bears, monkeys and such that were cuter than Zero, went to new homes via the Deseret Industries. The big squishy bear stayed. Maybe it was because he had a name and was part of the family. Now the next generation has taken to sleeping with and packing Zero around. I guess we will let him stay as long as he is needed. One day little Max, Jory's own son, will ask, "How old is Zero?" We will say, "Real Old! Almost as old as your dad!"