An English Diary ~ Edward Bear
Edward Bear was sitting on the bed to greet us when we opened the door to our room at the Lamb Inn on Sheep Street in the small town of Burford on the River Windrush in the Cotswolds, about 70 miles west of London. He was holding the hotel's information card, the kind you'd usually find on a table or desk, the card with room service hours, check-out times, and such. Lynn tossed the card aside to give Edward a long hug. "That's very clever," I thought. "They must sell a million of these guys." I picked up the card, and on the back was a note about how nice it would be to take Edward Bear home with you—for only £40. I sat down on the bed.
In 2008, the US dollar was worth about half a pound sterling. Practically speaking, we'd probably picked the worst time in history to visit England. Everything was double what it would be back home, making Edward Bear a cute $80 bundle of marketing genius. As I watched Lynn snuggling Edward, I knew it would be a well-spent £40, though. Besides, I had gotten used to thinking in a foreign currency; I was no longer trying to figure out how much things cost in dollars. For instance, a Big Mac isn't really $6.40, only £3.20. £40 for Edward would just be £40. (Welcome to the inside of Tom's brain.)
England was one of the few places I think Lynn felt most alive, the others being the beach, AACRAO conferences, and the set of Jeopardy. She was healthy in 2008, before her brain injuries. The days in London were spent without a car. (London has the world's largest Congestion Charge Zone: it costs £15 a day to drive a car in central London.) We walked everywhere and took the Tube whenever we could. Rye was small, and I was still new to right-side driving and the very, very (have I mentioned very?) narrow streets, so again, we walked everywhere. The scent of roses everywhere; the cobbled sidewalks; passers-by chatting with English accents; the sight of a Roman arch: Lynn wove these things into her soul, tying the loose ends to the hundreds of books she had read. She was glowing with life, like playing paddle ball on the beach or talking to an admissions officer from Nigeria at a conference.
Lynn sat Edward Bear back down on the bed and said, "He wants to watch the playoff!" Like many other, um—creatures in England, Edward Bear was following the US Open, specifically Lee Westwood (from England's East Midlands) and Tiger Woods. Westwood just missed tying the leaders on the final round, coming in 3rd. The day we checked into The Lamb Inn was the day of the playoff round of the Open between Rocco Mediate and Tiger Woods. We couldn't find coverage on the hotel TV, so we set the laptop on the bed so Edward could watch. You can see how interested and happy he was.
As we set off to explore Burford, I asked Lynn if she wanted to take Edward along on our adventure. She picked him up and held him to her ear. "No, he doesn't really like adventures; he's happiest in his room. Besides, he wants to watch Tiger, even though Tiger's a tiger and not a bear." By the time we got back, Edward was watching endless reruns of what turned out to be a very short playoff, with Tiger winning on the first hole of the sudden-death round. It wasn't until we got back home that we learned Tiger had been playing on a broken leg!
As we finished packing on our last morning in Burford—we were off to David Austin Roses on our way to Lincoln—I handed Edward over to Lynn to carry downstairs.
"Oh no," she said. "This is where Edward lives! He stays here, right Edward?" She sat him back down on the bed, ready to greet the next guests, as happy and relaxed as when we first saw him. I was so surprised. "Are you sure?" She snatched up the carry-on and headed out. "We'll come back and visit him one day."
I had gotten a Facebook account early on but never used it. When I did start using it, Lynn suggested I use the picture of Edward Bear for my profile picture. "Why?" I asked.
"He's you. Friendly and happy. You like it best when you're at home, puttering around in the garden, or just relaxing and watching golf. You never complain, and you're quiet. You're proud of your little town and never want to leave. And you're snugly and smell good too!
"I knew it the minute I saw him. That's why I didn't mind not taking him home. I already have him. Always."
I think about Edward Bear often and wonder if he's still there, waiting. Maybe Lynn was right; maybe he is me.