On Comfort

I recently discovered that Ze Frank is making videos again, which is just about the most amazing thing ever.  More on that later.  But in catching up, I ran into this video:

TMMTO something of my own:


This is Mr. Neilson.  I’ve had him since I was, I think, five.  I remember opening a package in a dark family room when I received him.  My sister got a stuffed owl.  The only part of all that that I’m 100% sure of is that his name is Mr. Neilson, but those are the memories associated with him, so there you go.  I also remember standing on the stairs to our basement and noting that his tag said “Gund”.  I also remember that his name wasn’t always Mr. Neilson, I think it was actually Peanuts, but then I became obsessed with Pippi Longstocking.  And if you’re curious, I’m still obsessed with Pippi.

Because Mr. Neilson has been part of my life for so long (and, since he is my “comfort object”, he typically doesn’t sit idly on a shelf), he’s a little worse for wear.  Since my early teens, he’s had this hole in his tail.


Then in or shortly after college I discovered he had a small hole in his head.  On which my sister commented “HAHAHAHAHA!  I mean, Oh no!”


And now, a month or so ago, I noticed he had a large split in his side.


On top of all that, his stuffing has clumped into a couple solid masses, leaving much of him unstuffed.  If only I knew someone with stuffing, a needle, and some thread….


Head wound all stitched up


Side wound all stitched up

I didn’t bother fixing the tail.  There’s no stuffing in the tail, so it’s not really causing any harm.  I stuffed him perhaps a little too full, but he now sits up on his own again and the stuffing will eventually compress.  And I will likely have him until the day I die.  I’ve laid in bed at night thinking that if the house were to start on fire, he’d come with me.

And maybe that’s a little crazy, but the video got me thinking.  There are a lot of things I do in my life, and likely there are a lot of things you do in yours, that make you happy, but that others might find weird.  And I think that if you don’t have some oddball happiness, then I might feel sorry for you.  And if you look down on others’ oddball happinesses, then I think I feel even more sorry for you.  I mean, unless looking down on people is your oddball happiness.  Which…. I guess I don’t really know where I stand on that one.  I think I’d recommend branching out.

Now.  Go forth and find comfort.


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