My Aunt Lucie gave me this Steiff bear for Christmas in 1954. How I loved that bear! He knew everything about me. Baerli could talk, but only on Christmas Eve. Not that I ever actually heard him speak, but I tried to stay awake many a Christmas Night to catch him chatting it up with the other toys. Before I went to sleep at night, I'd tuck Bearli under a blanket beside me, that is, until the year that I was married. When I left for America, he stayed behind. My sister must have felt sorry for him, because she took him in and let him sleep beside her, even though she was married.
Years later Baerli made it to the States. By then, stuffing was poking out here and there through the worn out fur, and one ear was entirely missing. His voice had gone silent years before. How I miss his deep, comforting growl! When he finally got here, my children were too old to form strong bonds with him. Today Baerli is great friends with my grandchildren. They hold him, rock him and dress him up. He's not too old for that sort of thing, and I think he likes the attention. Sometimes he winks at me.
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