Bear number sixty-one makes a friendFor a while some of the others tried to listen in on Bear number fifty-nine’s whispers, but soon he sat up and said, “Go find your own stories.”
“We don’t need your story,” said Bear sixty, “I found a book on the bus that has much better stories. They are President Mandela’s favorites.”
I think “smug” is the word that best describes number sixty at that moment and the counselor knew he had to say something before an argument would start between the Bears.
The counselors had agreed among themselves a long time ago that in Bear training there was no room for competition. Competition was probably good for business and sports events and maybe even for deciding who should be president, but, as an old Mother Bear had said at a picnic once, “A Bear is a Bear is a Bear.” “Equal opportunities for equal gifts,” she had added when asked what she meant.
All Bears had the same powers when it came to making a child happy. Sure, some had eyes that sat a bit crooked in their faces, or their lips were slanted unevenly, or one of their stitches had loosened, but they were all best friends. They knew how to hug, how to tell stories, how to wipe a child’s tears, how to listen. And they all tended to sneeze when a leaf tickled their noses.
While the counselor, who was himself quite young, thought of the many Bears he had trained, a bit of a commotion broke out near the video machine. Bear number sixty-one had just met a sad little girl and was about to give her a hug when sixty started to read aloud from the book he carried around.
“There was once a mantis who tried to catch the moon,” he said and looked to see if the little girl paid attention to him.
“We don’t need your story,” said Bear sixty, “I found a book on the bus that has much better stories. They are President Mandela’s favorites.”
I think “smug” is the word that best describes number sixty at that moment and the counselor knew he had to say something before an argument would start between the Bears.
The counselors had agreed among themselves a long time ago that in Bear training there was no room for competition. Competition was probably good for business and sports events and maybe even for deciding who should be president, but, as an old Mother Bear had said at a picnic once, “A Bear is a Bear is a Bear.” “Equal opportunities for equal gifts,” she had added when asked what she meant.
All Bears had the same powers when it came to making a child happy. Sure, some had eyes that sat a bit crooked in their faces, or their lips were slanted unevenly, or one of their stitches had loosened, but they were all best friends. They knew how to hug, how to tell stories, how to wipe a child’s tears, how to listen. And they all tended to sneeze when a leaf tickled their noses.
While the counselor, who was himself quite young, thought of the many Bears he had trained, a bit of a commotion broke out near the video machine. Bear number sixty-one had just met a sad little girl and was about to give her a hug when sixty started to read aloud from the book he carried around.
“There was once a mantis who tried to catch the moon,” he said and looked to see if the little girl paid attention to him.
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