Looking for Baobab

From the time I was a small child and listened to my mother read to me, I have loved words. Some developed their own identities, fascinating me with the meaning I attributed to them. First, I probably was around four, there was “Dennoch.” “Dennoch” is the German word for “nevertheless.” I would ask my mother to read a particular story to me – over and over – it was a story about a giant. This giant accomplished many difficult tasks; I assume that my mother said “dennoch” with extra emphasis to show his courage, and in my mind it became his name. “Dennoch” became synonymous with “winning in spite of.”

Then there was “Krimskrams.” It was sometimes spoken in an admonishing tone, when small pieces of furniture from my shoebox dollhouse littered the front stoop. “Odds and ends” is the translation for it. And even though “Krimskrams” raised my mother’s eyebrows, I delighted in the crisp pronunciation of its vowels. “Krimskrams” was the sound of marching forward.

Over the years my list of favorite words grew. When I was around twelve I read adventure stories. That’s when I discovered “Baobab.” The upside down tree of a far-away land. The word that escaped from tightly shut lips. An unsolved mystery.

I am sending Bear number fifty-one out into the world to look for Baobab.