about a bear

In 1980, the Soviet union held the summer Olympic games. The games have gone down in history for generally all the wrong reasons, such as the US boycotting, but in general they were something of a success for the Soviet Union. Huge stadiums and hotels were built around the country, including the monstrous hotel Rossia, which at the time was the biggest in the world. Interestingly for games set in the heartland of Socialist austerity, the 1980 Olympics was also the first sporting event to launch a mascot that achieved large-scale commercial success as merchandise. Designed by childrens’ book illustrator, Victor Chizhikov, Misha the cuddly bear cub became the hero of the games, presenting a warm fluffy image counter image to that being broadcast in the (boycotting) West. Misha was used extensively during the opening and closing ceremonies, had a TV animated cartoon version of himself and appeared on several merchandise products. Despite his international fame, Misha for me was always personal. My father attended the games, whilst I stayed home with my mother, as I was only about 18 months old and unlikely to appreciate the significance of the event. In Moscow, however, family friends knew of my existence (I am sure my father presented them with all kinds of photos) and the mother of one of my dad’s friends wanted to give me a present, to remember the historic moment by. Inspired by the games, but unable to afford one of the official Misha bears being sold to the tourists, this Soviet babushka made me my very own misha bear. The outside of the bear she knit herself, and then stuffed it with cotton balls. She then knit bit warm eyes and a smiling face, as well as a little red heart over the bear’s chest. The result was a humble looking beast, and one just the perfect size for a small child to slobber on and drag around. And drag misha around I did. The bear made many trips to and from the Soviet Union and later Russia. I took him all over the place for over 30 years, stuffed in a variety of suitcases. His head got a bit wobbly over time, and I chewed off the heart at some early moment in our relationship, but until this past weekend when he was savaged by my kitten, Misha was a reliable companion. Although I realise a stuffed toy is just a bundle of fabric, I was still upset to find him on the floor, his stomach torn open and stuffing spread all over the place. Given the care and attention that went into making him, Misha deserved a more dignified ending. He will be missed.