YOUNG CHANG -- Reporter’s Notebook
I wonder what A.A. Milne was like.
I hope he loved his friends and that he had a sweet tooth, especially
for “hunny.” Maybe he was chubby, maybe he had a favorite red shirt. But
most of all, I hope and assume the author was kind and gentle and able to
touch people.
Just like his star character, Winnie-the-Pooh.
There’s something about that “silly old bear” that gets me every time.
The way his little, red shirt flaps upward over his not so little tummy.
The way he devours honey and gets it all over his face. The way he
cherishes his friends -- Piglet, Eeyore, Tigger, Rabbit, Owl, Kanga and,
of course, Christopher Robin.
I visit the Disney Store because I know Pooh is there. I adore Pooh
key chains, Pooh dolls, even Pooh bedsheets. I once almost bought a denim
jacket with a big Pooh face sewn on the back. It was last year -- I was
22 -- so I bought a Pooh book instead.
I cried reading it. The pictures were glossy and beautiful. Pooh’s
expressions were heartbreaking and adorable. When he slept, he wore white
pajamas and a salmon-pink night cap. When it was windy, he wore a yellow
scarf.
Last weekend, he wore his usual red shirt and carried his pot of
“hunny” on stage during “A Winnie-the-Pooh Christmas Tail” at the Trilogy
Playhouse in Costa Mesa. Matt Bartosch, the character of Pooh, had an
appropriately sweet and mild voice.
In the play, Eeyore lost his tail. Pooh and the gang searched for and
found it -- Owl had stumbled upon the tail in the forest and used it as a
pull-string for his new doorbell. They presented it to Eeyore at a party
with other thoughtful Christmas gifts. The lesson was that friendship is
important.
I agree.
My closest friends who are fellow Pooh fans get to share his name. In
college, Cindy was Cindy-pooh. Diana was Diana-pooh. My friend Torus is
Torus-pooh. Tami is just Pooh. I address her by her real name only when
colleagues are around.
Sometimes I also wonder what Ernest H. Shepard -- the illustrator of
the original Pooh books in the early 1900s -- was like. Milne invented
Pooh, but Shepard’s hands brought him to life on paper. I’m grateful for
the way he saw that silly ol’ bear.
Most of all, I wonder about Milne. How he thought up a name like
“Pooh,” how he thought to misspell “honey,” how he decided Pooh’s red
shirt wouldn’t fit exactly right.
I wish I had known him. I guess, through his books, I’m getting to
know him. But I would like to shake Milne’s hand and thank him. For
several reasons.
For making me smile while I’m stuck in the car during rush hour
because the car next to me has a huge Pooh sun shade inside its passenger
window.
For helping me relax in the office because a colleague of mine has
countless Poohs on her Winnie-the-Pooh screen saver.
For reminding me that some things really can be universally, eternally
sweet.
* YOUNG CHANG is the Daily Pilot’s features writer. She is, and always
will be, a Winnie-the-Pooh fan.
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