Stuff on My Pooh

Like a secular Jesus, Pooh forgives. Consider this: After I'd gone years without contact, I encountered Pooh in Heathrow Airport in the late 1990s. And did Pooh turn a cold shoulder or ask, "Where were you during the hard times, leaving me with grumpy Eeyore in the Wood?" No. He smiled warmly as he almost always does and said, "I wonder what exciting will happen today?"

Since then, Pooh and I have been almost inseparable*. He rode shotgun on our drive from Nashville to Los Angeles -- 2,000 miles with no complaints. Later we braved a bitter Austrian winter, experienced San Francisco street festivals and struggled through Houston humidity. Wherever we traveled, Pooh insisted on avoiding paparazzi.

Now, after years of keeping a low profile, Pooh is letting me post photos from his private life. He trusts that you will keep these photos in context if sharing them; Pooh doesn't like the hassle of silly Enquirer scandals.

^{* Pooh's note: I spent more than a year in a Texas storage facility with NO HONEY.}

For all his sweetness, Pooh isn't terribly bright by certain human standards. You might remember when he ate too much honey and became stuck in Rabbit's door? The situation was embarrassing, not to mention inconvenient for everyone involved.

A smart bear would learn from that episode -- but a similar thing happened when Pooh discovered beer. He drank far too much. The poor bear drank so much that he couldn't fit back inside through the cat door. He passed out on my deck and was pecked by a bird.

When Pooh awoke he had a terrible headache. He vowed to never drink beer again. He was also bothered by blackouts until he observed, "A nice thing about blacking out is you always make new discoveries."

A few weeks ago Pooh became especially bothered by people regarding him as young. It seems that he was turned down for a Costco membership on a day when he especially craved honey. I suggested that he grow a mustache to appear older.

Well, Pooh doesn't keep up much with styles. He initially grew something that was like a Hitler mustache. I thought about how to broach the subject.

"Pooh," I said, "I haven't seen a mustache like yours in a long time."

He smiled and said, "The things that make me different are the things that make me!"

I felt absolutely crushed. "Aw, Pooh. You don't understand. That mustache was made famous by a man who didn't want people to just be themselves."

"Charlie Chaplin?"

"No, Poohbear... I'm just afraid that people will misunderstand you."

"If that happens," Pooh said, "hand them a Pabst and we can forget the whole affair."

The Pooh mustache issue disappeared with time. Pooh found an old Rollie Fingers baseball card and decided to grow a handlebar mustache instead.

"I have a tail, too," he boasted. "It isn't much but I'm attached to it."

Pooh is a big fan of folk music and would like me to leave you with a song. I've chosen "House on Pooh Corner."

Pooh is especially proud to have indirectly launched the career of Kenny Loggins. Loggins wrote "House on Pooh Corner" in high school. The beautiful song about returning to childhood helped him earn a recording contract. Here are some of the lyrics:

I wandered much further today than I should

And I can't find my way to the wood

So help me if you can 

I've got to get back to the house at Pooh Corner by one 

You'd be surprised there's so much to be done 

Count all the bees in the hive 

Chase all the clouds from the sky 

Back to the days of Christopher Robin 

Back to the ways of Christopher Robin

And Pooh

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