Sometime in the late 90’s we took a family day trip down the coast to Monterey.
We were going off of the 101 and came to this one-lane road that went through a fairly med-size town with old looking buildings, drab but distinguished, lining some little main strip beneath graying skies,the only color found in the vibrant crepe paper banners strung across the sky like lace and ones you’d see during the Day of the Dead. We were winding through that strip. At the bend in the road, up ahead I could make out someone waving their hands and swaying in a dirty knock-off character suit of Winnie the Pooh. If he had a significant red shirt, and maybe some pants, it wouldn’t be so startling to see. But there it was, Winnie the Something all creepy with his slumping smile that somehow brought the kids to the yard.
We passed the bear and the little children that were laughing and dancing around him. They were so happy and still he was just a dirty, naked bear.