By Mr. Newman
Ahh, young love. Now, I’m not talking about that first kiss in middle school or that first crush in third grade (for me, it was Nicole Vance). No, I’m going back further than that, to the “loveys” we received as babies, the stuffed animals, the blankies, the little squares of fabric that we clutched to our chests for so many years and then let go of when we grew up (unless we didn’t and they’re still there under our pillows).
According to Babycenter.com, these “comfort” or “transitional objects” can “ease separation anxiety and help your child adjust to new situations.” They support babies as they “make the journey from wholly dependent newborn to independent human being.”
I roamed the halls at Lovett in search of some students who might tell me about their loveys. In a second-floor alcove, I came across sophomores Brooke Babbit and Olivia Pryor. Brooke’s lovey was a stuffed pink cat that she said “looks like a cheetah.” Olivia had two: Itty Bit, a little white bunny, and a nameless pink bunny head attached to a monogrammed blankie.
In the library, I spoke with seniors William Malone and Drew Schipper, both of whom fondly recalled their loveys which are still very much present in their lives. When I asked them where they are, both said unapologetically, “On my bed.”
William’s is a small gray square of fabric called “MineMine,” so named because whenever his parents tried to take it away from him, he’d growl “MineMine!” Like Olivia, Drew had two, “Jorge,” an English spaniel stuffed dog with high floppy years, and “Baby Lamby,” a Carolina blue lamb head attached to a blankie.
Though loveys are inanimate, children have no trouble interacting with them as if they were alive. Drew would take his on trips and treat them like royalty. While Olivia said she didn’t talk to her loveys, she wasn’t surprised when Brooke said she did. “She definitely talked to it, she’s an only child,” Olivia said, laughing.
This kind of intense attachment can present challenges to parents. Olivia had to replace Itty Bit with a second “Itty Bit” when she lost it. Drew’s mom, exhausted from having to keep track of “Baby Lamby,” bought him an entire family of Lambys so there could be a car Lamby and stroller Lamby and bed Lamby. And you can bet that when little William left “MineMine” at his grandparents’ house and his dad suggested they perhaps should leave it there, William objected. Grandma mailed it back.
When my first child was born, he received a rather luxurious blankie as a gift. Because he chewed on them so much, they would stink after a few days, and so we had to buy a half-dozen of these expensive blankies to keep on rotation. Unfortunately, he became very particular about how they should feel–just shy of extra crispy–and so I once had to spoon some yogurt onto a brand new blankie, mash it around, wash it, then dry it just to get it to the perfect texture. With our second child, we bought the cheapest burp cloths we could find in bulk…and called them blankies.
As we know from First Corinthians and Toy Story, there is a time when we give up childish things. While “MineMine” and “Lamby” may still live in William and Drew’s beds, the young men do manage to separate themselves each day from their old inanimate friends and hang out with their human ones at school, not to mention study for science tests (as they were in the library before I started hassling them), play sports, lead the honor council. Brooke gave up her pink cat at eleven. Olivia left her first “Itty Bit” at a hotel and she thinks the second one is somewhere in her room.
It’s hard not to think of Jessie from Toy Story 2, abandoned on the side of the road. Or worse, the trash incinerator scene from Toy Story 3. But it struck me that the spirits of “MineMine” and “Lamby” and “Itty Bit” were very much alive in the eyes of these students as they recalled their old friends. Drew said they used to wash “Lamby” with Drift detergent, and now whenever he smells that smell “it takes me back.”
And it may be that we don’t really give up comfort objects as we get older, they just change. We get real-life pets. We get friends. We get phones. And we get other objects that we imbue with meaning. When Brooke’s dog King died a few years ago, she got a stuffed animal version of it.
William told me about a Lovett Lax sweatshirt that has “the perfect sleeve length.” Drew rhapsodized about his grandfather’s hunting jacket. “It makes me think of him and the family tree…and be happy…,” he said.
We adults have to cast our lines much further back in time to hook our own memories of loveys. I actually couldn’t remember if I had a comfort object, so I called my mom, who told me I indeed had a pink, blue, and yellow blankie. She then pointed out that we got our first dog Becky when I was five, and “she was your animate stuffed animal.”
When I met up with Rev Allen in the senior lounge, he told me about his stuffed Snoopy that he had until its stuffing came out and it looked like “a limp noodle.” At one point, they had to sew its head back on.
It never totally disintegrated but Rev Allen said it was clear even to his very young self that “Snoopy was no more.” They had done everything they could, he said, as if Snoopy was a loved one dying in the hospital. Pretty soon, it became clear that we weren’t just talking about Snoopy, but childhood. “You do everything you can to hold onto your childhood,” he said, “until you can’t anymore.”
Of course, Rev Allen hasn’t stopped trying to hold onto things. “There are shirts I have worn and worn and worn, and if it gets a hole it’s disappointing and sad,” he said. “I’ve worn stuff that’s got holes and ratty…until I can’t anymore.” Even then, he said he doesn’t get rid of it. “Then I transition it to the rag bin.”
Life can be chaotic and unpredictable, so it’s understandable that even adults want to cling to objects that symbolize stability. Here are just a few headlines from Google News that confirm as much: “Meet The Adults Who Still Sleep With Security Blankets,” “Research Reveals 1 in 10 Sleep With Their Childhood Teddies,” and “How These 22 People Feel About their Comfort Objects Will Break Your Heart A Little Bit.”
In the Chicago Tribune article, “Is it OK To Hold On To Your Childhood Comfort Object?” University of Pennsylvania psychologist Vivian C. Seltzer points out how overwhelming life can be, whether it’s our work, our jobs, or our social lives. The transition is especially difficult for young people leaving home for the first time.
Speaking of which, Drew doesn’t plan to take “Lamby” with him when he goes off to college. But I’m guessing he’ll take his grandfather’s hunting jacket. After all, it makes him happy. And if he does decide to sneak “Lamby” into his bag at the last minute, I would totally understand.
