Barry was near the end, close to losing his home.
He had turned into Elvis trying to be cool in the 1970s. His charm and talent were gone after a pair of kids in Belmont had gotten him for Christmas three years ago.
Nowadays, Barry is seen as big. Maybe a little too big. The children who once played with him outgrew him. But like a twist from the plot of “Toy Story,” he found a new role in life.
“I was going to donate him to Goodwill,” said Kate Lewey, whose master plan has led to an invasion that has nothing to do with a virus. “He served no purpose, he is huge, and he takes up a lot of room. But we can’t get rid of him now. He’s the symbol of comfort and hope in New Hampshire.”
That’s a heavy burden to lay on one teddy bear, but Barry has been up to the task since Lewey began a coordinated effort to recruit bears and have their owners leave them outside, in cool places. Like a tree. Or behind a tree. Or sitting on a stoop, getting some sun.
Barry is the poster-bear for Lewey’s not-so-screwy idea. He stands, or sits, outside Lewey’s home and greets people. Makes them feel good. They wave, chat from a distance, emerge from the experience with a tad more bounce in their steps.
Lewey’s social media activity has spread the idea around the state. To Concord, Manchester, Laconia. She got the idea online, from New Zealand, and it’s spread around the globe, like something else that we all dread these days. She’s now our unofficial state leader in a national effort to raise our spirits.
Lewey says it’s like a full-time job. She calls it the New Hampshire Bear Hunt. Look around, Lewey says. Find the bears. Feel the hopeful energy, enjoy the never-ending cuteness associated with them, and forget, at least for a moment or two, that the coronavirus is still with us.
And remember, this is a scavenger hunt, not a give-away. Earn your bear.
“It’s a hunt,” Lewey said. “You just don’t show up and find the bear. It’s helping everyone along the way. It’s a place where you can go and deflect and release any of the stressors you might be feeling because of the outbreak.”
She thanks her mother, Pam Frazier, for thinking of this selfless act. In fact, she thanks her mother for just about everything, because her mother raised her alone and apparently did a great job.
“She is my inspiration,” Lewey told me. “Growing up in a single-parent home is tough, and as teens you go through ups and downs, and looking back, I see what I put her through. She dedicated her time and energy for her main goal, which was to raise me.”
Lewey mingled with lawmakers and others involved in environmental issues in Florida, where she grew up. She founded a youth group down there and attracted 500 families, taking them on field trips around Florida, showing why land and water should be respected.
“With each endeavor, I make sure it involves kids,” Lewey said. “It’s important for the kids to have a voice.”
Lewey and her husband, Noah, met at a Florida sub shop, lost contact, then reconnected years later and married. They’re raising two children, one of whom, Hannah, was born with craniosynostosis, which impedes the brain’s growth. She had surgery at three months old and has made great strides since.
They’re using bears to get their point across, and for good reason. After all, have you ever seen a Teddy Bear that made you feel lousy?
And Hannah is loving bears these days, traveling with mom in search of them. Just the other day Lewey said they saw 49 bears while driving from Londonderry to their home in Belmont.
49!
Ellen Burger of Concord has the bug. The Barry Bear Bug. It began sometime last month, when she heard a little boy say, “There’s one,” through an open window.
She looked outside and saw a boy, not much older than 5, sprinting ahead of his mother and the family dog. He had a bear in his sights, and not even the rain on this day was going to slow the kid down.
“He was hunting for bears,” Burger told me. “And you know what? It worked.”
And now other animals have joined the party. That’s happening everywhere. A bear and a unicorn. A bear and a giraffe.
At Lewey’s house, good old Barry, reborn, steals the show. He’ll sit under a tent if it’s raining. He’ll stand on the porch and put his paws on the white wooden railing when it’s sunny.
He’s not going to Goodwill after all. Not yet. Barry is cute again, with a role, morale officer, that’s vital these days.
“The hunt keeps the kids engaged,” Lewey said. “It brings us so much joy and excitement when we find one.
“In a silly little way.”